On the winding road down the Croatian coast, a couple gazes toward the turquoise sea one usually only glimpses in movies. She sighs, ”We’re driving in the clouds.” But he grumbles: “It’s just a high fog, you know.” She sighs again.

Under the rosary that hung from the rearview mirror and no-smoking sticker mandated by the bus line, the driver expertly lights a cigarette. Nobody moves, except to blink in their nicotine envy.

An antique woman flags down the bus. She climbs the stairs quickly, then returns to feeble as she stares down a tourist occupying the front seat. The tourist hoists his backpack onto his lap to make room, then tries to read his guidebook under a pile of gear. The old woman makes loud small talk with the driver for about five minutes, then he drops her off where she points, though it seems the middle of nowhere…