Travel, 50+, San Marino

Most people arrive to San Marino from Rimini. After all, it is almost entirely "surrounded" by the province of. And it's convenient to pick a bus from the city of. So did I and here's how it went:

Our little travel entourage arrived to the bus stop with a light step. Certain of being in the right place, we stopped. Then checked the map and the surroundings. We remembered this is Italy and nothing ever holds in Italy. We checked the map and the surroundings again and something seemed off. The buses at this stop seemed to name other cities in other directions. We started walking up and down the streets for signs and we were not the only one's. There were packs of lost souls floating around the limbo, asking other lost souls "where is the stop to San Marino?" followed by a disappointed "Oh, I was looking for it, too..." There were no locals to ask. Just tourists. So many tourists. Probably a few locals pretending they were tourists so that they didn't have to answer "stupid questions".

Finally! We found the right place. The bus was already there and people were going in. Now... turns out the driver does not sell tickets (as so often is the case almost everywhere in the world). Instead, the guy pointed out "See that running woman over there?" Yes? "Run after her. You have to buy the ticket where she is going." Okay then... So we started running. I, as the only testosterone pulsating specimen of the entourage of the day, had the inalienable three-legged duty to carry all the sh!t. It was like back in the military basic training again, except I'm older, lazier, fatter (sexy dad bod, obviously, also known as "peak male form") more dehydrated and it's damn hot and I stopped playing professional sports too many years ago. And why am I carrying multiple random people's baggage? As a consequence, I enjoyed a delicious cramp that decimated my speed and endurance. A grand event! Especially in the light of what was to come.

Skip forwards, we got the tickets, arrived to the bus just as the driver was starting the old jiggle wagon. Panting and coughing and wheezing like we snorted cancerous nicotine sticks for breakfast and smoked hazardous waste for lunch. The driver goes: "Just a day trip?" Wait. What? No! Now, despite specifically explaining to the ticket sales lady that we are going to stay overnight and need tickets marked for return on another day, her "Uh-huh?" had meant "I'm no longer listening, everyone buys just a day-ticket and that's what you're gonna get. Capisce!" But here's where the relief of (sing this like you're a fat bald guy rooting for Millwall) "this is Italy, we don't care" stepped in. The driver, after our explanation, used a marker to mark a new date on the ticket and convinced us "It's fine, it's legit." And it was!

The Città of San Marino is, uh... a bit of a climb. Even though the bus stop is not at the bottom of the knolls and mounts. This is where the joys of injury kicked in. Grinning like that one famous cat, I pushed on, ripping muscle tissue, popping ligaments and joints out of place, roaring internally like it's a death metal demonstration for people who did not quite get convinced from your first few growls. Pushing on. Reaching a peak! Nay, a false peak. Pushing on. Murmuring naughty bits.

The grand reward of the climb is, essentially, a tourist hell. Daytime is flooding the streets with masses of people. You try to take a picture of a building? Masses of people. You try to get to your hotel? Blocked by masses of people getting physical. Shoulders in other people's eye sockets, elbows in ribs, knees in the valley of ancient sensitivities of some poor sod and theirs in yours, you push on and find your way around. Were you to need a break, you can always rest in a touristy and, quite probably, overpriced tourist shop. The atmosphere is close, tight, sweaty and warm, but no one is punching you in the face and ribs going "uh-oh, hehe". On a note, while pricey, the shops do have a little competition on price and variety. Compare and buy where you get the best price and the item of your dreams. Also goes for the euro coins (which generally speaking are only available in the tourist shops at tourist prices... unless you get some as change in Kosovo, as I did).

And then comes the night. All of the sudden, the streets are almost empty. The day visitors are all gone and you have only a handful of people actually staying in San Marino. The streets are all yours. The only downside is that the places with opening hours are, for the most part, closed. However, going to these as early as possible in the morning is a decent option.

The Judgment:
San Marino is small, extremely touristy and you can see everything in a single day. You will have to be very active for that, though. And fit. The summer sun is often a hint brutal despite the weather being slightly less scorching than in Rimini. The capital is, in my opinion, over 90% of all interesting places in the country. Outside, there are some shopping opportunities, some museums and, mayhap, some international football where La Serenissima is almost guaranteed to lose. But if they win, which has happened like once ever, maybe twice(?), they will lose it (as seen in videos and still images).

While Sammarinese are "almost Italian", the country is somehow more pleasant and less chaotic than Italy. Even with the hordes of drooling Romero critters. It's fairly safe, unless you're prone to having uphill heart attacks or spontaneous hip displacements in narrow steps. The museums are quite small and quickly ran through. You get a few nice snaps. One of the local euro coins will cause you numismatic pain (a more rare print than all the other values, just because). The food is pretty good and you will enjoy the time between the last busload out and the next busload in.

Would I go again? No.