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| Ancona - In Miniature |
We exited the highway and drove to the university on a road so rough and pot-holed that if you closed your eyes you’d swear you were driving through a minefield. Dentists should install these roads near their offices to loosen people’s fillings. School was starting in a week and the university was abuzz with activity. Even though post-secondary education has embraced the technological age, all official paperwork must still be submitted in person displaying the proper stamps in order to be stamped once again… it’s all very official you see.
While we waited, I was asked more than once if I was graduating as well; “no, I did that thirteen years ago”. Since nobody has figured out my age here, they looked at me as if I was some childhood prodigy…I said nothing and just smiled.
Marco’s paperwork was submitted and my unceremonious return to school was over; brief indeed. Marco offered a short tour of Ancona during which we came up with an anti-graffiti strategy that we really think could work. Any young person caught defacing public property would be shot on site. When outraged and distraught parents would demand an explanation for the police’s unspeakable violence and abuse of power, the explanation would not be the expected “because they were breaking the law”, instead it would be “because you were poor parents”. Evil laughter filled the Clio’s small interior.
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| Smile for the graffiti elimination strategy |
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| Setting up for the Pope. He's like Polkaroo... I missed him again! |
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| Eastern bloc sandals... WTF?! |
We started the return trip taking the long way along coastal roads and secondary highways. Marco displayed a driving talent that is likely common here, but definitely rare back home. After all, there’s decrepit women in their eighties here still driving stickshift! The smell of burnt clutches hangs thick in the air.
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