Miro Kopčalić and I spent much of the afternoon on the hotel terrace. Having had our fill of food and drink, we got up from our table, picked our way down the wrecked cobblestone ramp leading up to the hotel entrance, and walked into the steep archway that connects the two main Motovun squares. As we were walking past Benjamin’s restaurant, which stretches along one side of the archway, we decided to walk in for a quick chat with him and his entire family. They were nowhere in sight, but Ana Krnjus was sitting alone between the bar counter and the idle fireplace. “Ana,” yelled Miro from the door. “Yes,” yelled Ana with gusto. We all laughed. There was something wonderful in Ana’s affirmation both of herself as a person and of her name as such. A lady in her sixties, she is usually on the quiet side. Miro and I could not but sit down with her for a chat that ended up being far from quick. That boisterous “yes” disarmed us both.