I’ve got the same driver on my way back to Croatia. We catch the other’s glance in the mirror above his seat. He rolls his eyes at the pack of tourists who chat across the aisles so loudly that it feels we’re on a bus bound for elementary school. I try to cast back a look of sympathy and compassion.

We pass a woman selling produce on the side of the road. A local lady in the bus would like to buy some. The driver calls out the window to the woman, perhaps negotiating a deal. As he pulls the bus over, passengers watch the lady hustle across the street to fetch a bag of oranges. She is back to the bus in less than a minute, but the Italians now want to stock up as well. We’re halted for nearly 15 minutes–a man buying a bag and returning, so…