There are only two ways that you might stumble across tiny little Trogir, Croatia, right on the Dalmatian Coastline. 1. You are meeting your charter yacht on a Saturday for a week of sailing among the beautiful Dalmatian Islands. But, you would have made your reservations through a company in Germany, not locally, so you'd have to be "in-the-know" to have even done that. 2. Like me, you would have bounced away from Split and its ugly Diocletian's Palace, with the bad vibes, after being in charming and romantic Dubrovnic. You would have caught the #38 bus and gone a few miles north to find this tiny gem of a medieval city, wee little Trogir, all tucked away on a very small island in the middle of a river. Oh what a place! You will walk through the warren of its winding streets with your jaw dropping, as the discoveries mount up. You vow to sample every restaurant and to shop in each boutique and to see every art gallery and museum. If the town is full to the gills, you will get rescued by Mario on his bike and led to his mother's rental apartments where you can stay as long as you like. Trogir is even a philosophical town and it taught me a lesson that I brought home and hung upon my wall. As its symbol, the little town has displayed a bas relief statue of Kairos, the Greek God of the Fleeting Moment, a well-known statue from the 3rd century B.C. In the small museum of Trogir, I bought a little replica of that statue and have framed the quotations from the pamphlet explaining this philosophy - which I have incorporated into my own psyche. The naked Kairos has a tuft of hair streaming from the front of his head. This represents the favorable moment which must be grasped before it flies away without return and cannot be caught any more. That is illustrated by the fact that his head is bald in the back. Kairos is always in a hurry; he is quicker than the wind; sharper than the tip of a knife, and everyone who comes in front of him must grasp the tuft of hair or he will overfly them and they can never catch him again, no matter how much they long for it. The mysterious little museum is hard to find within the stone tunnels of winding medieval streets; it's only open sometimes; and after I discovered Kairos there, I vowed to buy a copy of him to take home. But, I got distracted with the other interesting exhibits and almost stepped out into the street again, leaving him behind, forgotten. Luckily, I stopped in mid-motion, turned around and bought my little plaster copy which has since graced my wall. He nearly overflew me, but at the very last minute, I grabbed his tuft of hair and took him home, where he teaches me daily to leap instantly into the unknown before the chance is gone forever. Trogir is all the more special to me for that lesson. If Brigadoon exists, its name is Trogir.