The truth be told, I have had enough of tourists this season. And enough is surely the word. Even though the unseasonable weather is not exactly to my taste, I often feel that it is just what the damned tourists deserve. Go home, for crying out loud! Of all the tourists, though, the adolescents among them annoy me the most. Actually, they drive me nuts. They screech their heads off for no reason whatsoever. They dash about with utter abandon bordering on premeditated mischief. They stomp their feet. They throw things around. They laugh like hyenas. And they shed rivers of tears whenever an opportunity arises. Among the adolescent tourists, I abhor those between the ages of three or four and eleven or twelve the most. Some of them come with their parents, but most of them are part of school excursions from Croatia and the neighboring countries. The pits. But the worst bit is that it is quite obvious that they do not wish to be here, either. They are forced up and down the Motovun hill for some inane reason concocted by their bewildered parents and/or teachers, but they would rather be somewhere entirely different. Alas, nobody is listening to them, let alone to poor old me!