Eni Nurkollari drove me to Poreč today. I went for a regular blood test, which I take every eighteen months or so. Health maintenance, or so I like to pretend. “Gosh,” I exclaimed when we entered the town, “this is a real city now!” I cannot remember when I was there last, but it must be close to a full year. Everywhere we went there were new rotaries or roundabouts, a few of which I remember at various stages of construction. There were several new buildings, too. A few of them I also remember under construction. On our way to the medical lab, which I visited only twice before, I kept turning around in confusion. “I hope I know where I am going,” I confessed to Eni at one street corner. All went well, though. We found the lab quickly enough. On our way back to the car, I kept turning around in awe once again. After all, Poreč has close to twenty-thousand inhabitants now. “Slowly but surely,” I sighed as I opened the car door, “I am turning into a real hick.” Eni just laughed.