Fano, Italy, Bacheloor
The last few days of this trip, crowded with long drives and little sleep, became a little blurry. Like Giovanna said when we were getting close to Rome, it doesn't matter how much you're enjoying yourself when you travel; when it's time to go, it's time to go, and there's always at least part of you that's eager to go. Oh, and I wanted to tell a story about Giovanna - I meant to write it earlier, it was in Vinkovci. One of my favorite moments of the trip, when Vickie and Giovanna and I were in the van and Tim, Andy and Agostino had gone with Tony to see the sleeping arrangements. It's not much of a story, more of a moment where my delight in Giovanna shot through the roof, as the three of us talked quietly about, I think, the weather. The thought of hot summers in Catania reminded her of a man there who has a milkshake cart, a man with his own private recipe for milkshakes that somehow involved muffins and chocolate and... other things, but he'd hide the construction process from view, all was done in secret. She said these shakes were beautiful creations, and I believe her; but part of the reason why I believe her is because as she described the man, and his secretive methods, and the hot Catania summer, and the delicious shakes themselves, she was climbing up onto the front seat and turning around and getting loud and excited, and shit! she practically climbed over the seat! Maybe it's just the Italian way, and seeing all the gesturing and raucous activity involved in ordinary speech there, I think it's true; still, I fucking love that shit. It is delightful to me, she is delightful to me.

But I'm writing here about at least one of the last few days of the trip, this one starting with many hours of driving between Slovenia and Fano. I can't even remember those hours, can I? Where did we eat? Autogrill? Do you know that at Autogrill - a chain truckstop diner that's all over Italy - you can eat food that if it were served in an Italian restaurant here in Chicago people would come from many miles around to eat it? The fucking truckstop food! Delicious! Even the Sicilians can enjoy Autogrill. You know what, though: Italian potatoes. It's worth going to Italy just to eat the potatoes with sea salt and olive oil. Maybe I'll try to recreate the experience tonight, but I have my doubts I can do it, I really do. I want to try to make the potatoes, and I want to try to make the carbonara. Maybe I can come close, close with either one would make me quite happy.

That's all very important. So we drove many hours, got into Fano quite late, and I immediately got a capuccino from a little shop on the corner. It's worth going to Italy just to drink the capuccino. It is impossible to find a bad cup of coffee, just impossible. Truck stops, corner stores, bars, airports - any place that makes coffee makes great coffee. I don't understand it. But Fano, Fano was ... it was fine, it was fine! Okay? Very nice people ran the club, which was more rock-club-like than most other places we played, like real rock club with drinking and meat market etc. Fano is on the coast, and I don't have much to say! The club was in a mini-mall, I did not see the city, others went into town for gelato but I missed the boat on that one, oh I sure as hell did miss the boat on that one.

The next morning we woke in a youth hostel about 7 kilometers north of town. A huge deck in the sun, always the sun! looking out onto the Adriatic, and I took a quick walk to the beach. There were tire tracks in the sand and it was cold, but the water was so fucking clear and bright! it was lovely, and I want to go back but to Slovenia though where there aren't so many tire tracks. I walked back to the hostel, and found a mama sheep dog and her two puppies hanging around behind the building - so fucking cute. The mother, I wanted to take her home, she was such a doll; but the soon-to-be-cow-sized babies were out of control. We took many photographs, none of which will turn out, as we are cursed.

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