Medriatic Sojourn

It does not inspire confidence in passengers for the guide to shout to the bus driver in two languages, “What the hell are you doing?“ Of course, he had just turned onto a one-lane dirt road. But more about that later.

We spent the morning in beautiful San Marino, one of the micro-states of Europe. It is the oldest and smallest republic in the world, and its citizens are rightly proud of that. The city-state flings its thirty-six square miles down one side of a very steep mountain side, giving breathtaking views of the Adriatic Sea.

When Giuseppe Garibaldi unified the Italian states into a single nation in 1861, San Marino said, “No, thanks. We prefer liberty.” The tiny nation is not part of Italy, and the citizens want you to know it. The word “liberty” appears on their flag, on their street signs and over the altar of their basilica. For the people here liberty is sacred. Their refusal to align themselves with Mussolini and the Axis powers during World War 2 put them in a position to save the lives of more than 100,000 Italian citizens who refused to support Hitler.

The republic here is one of the purest examples of that form of government. Their system began in the year 1243 and has remained largely unchanged. There is a legislature composed of 60 members elected to five-year terms. Each of the nine townships receives proportional representation. However, the most interesting feature is that there are two chief executives, called Captain-Regents elected by the legislature to six-month terms. One Captain-Regent is chosen by lawmakers from each of the two political parties, so that the two Captain-Regents must come from different parties. Can you imagine how it would be in the United States if the Democrats in Congress elected their President and the Republicans elected theirs, and the two Presidents were required to govern together! The Captain-Regent cannot make a law. Only the legislature can do so. There is no such thing as an “executive order.” Their Constitution makes it clear that their “President” is an executive, not a king. She has the power of persuasion but not the power of the purse. Many women have served as Captain-Regent, and one of the current occupants of the office is openly gay. This notion of a dual head of state is a direct survival from the old Roman republic in which two consuls shared executive power. Once a Captain-Regent’s term ends, citizens have three days to file official complaints against them, and if warranted, the former Captain-General may be indicted and tried for misconduct.

The accompanying photos show the stately ceremonial governmental palace in which the legislature meets. However, it is no more beautiful than the city-state itself. Steep streets pass houses and restaurants clinging to their mountain terraces. Views of the surrounding countryside stretched for a hundred miles on this clear Sunday.

Glenda and I stopped at a local restaurant for a Nutella crêpe and a cappuccino just before we had to leave. The wind picked up and gray clouds gathered in the west. Shortly after we started our bus ride back to Ravenna, the rain started. Our driver disregarded the directions given to him by our guide, and eventually they started arguing like an old married couple. Finally, our guide threw up her hands, and muttered something in Italian. She kept silent until the driver turned onto a one-lane dirt road full of potholes. Then came her wide-eyed shriek, “What the hell are you doing!” He shouted something about a short-cut, but her shouting continued. Glenda got tickled and start laughing. Out loud. And we were in the seat behind our bus driver. He turned his head and shot us a sneer.

I patted her lap and said, “Now, Florrie!” (Those of you who knew Charles and Florrie Mercer will understand.) Glenda laughed louder. What should have been a ninety-minute drive had already taken two hours. Suddenly we saw our ship. The problem was that it was on the other side of the canal, and the nearest bridge across it we had passed fifteen minutes earlier. By this time Glenda was laughing uncontrollably. Tears were coming from her eyes and she had gone hysterical.

I kept on soothing, “Now, Florrie . . .”

The bus driver was not amused.

Glenda did regain enough composure to allow herself to start humming the theme song from the old TV show “Gilligan’s Island.” She kept singing the words “a three-hour tour . . . a three-hour tour.”

Our guide pulled out her cell phone, loaded up Google Maps and started barking orders for our driver to turn: “RIGHT! LEFT! LEFT! When we finally crossed the bridge that put the bus and the ship on the same side of the canal, everyone on the bus broke out into deafening applause. The trip back to the ship, that should have taken an hour and a half, took two and a half hours. We got through security as quickly as we could and screeched our tires into the ship’s buffet less than a minute before it closed. Now we are back in our stateroom well fed, dry and warm, reliving and absolutely wonderful day in a magical place. If you ever have a chance to visit San Marino, don’t pass it up.Leia mais