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Summer Postcards 2013
When in Rome
July 06, 2013
Forty minutes later, my smile began to fade as my facial muscles rearranged themselves into a confused grimace. I shot a furtive glance left at my teammate Marion. She seemed equally perplexed as her gaze extended past the open window of the taxi and towards an all-too-close mountain village. Just a guess, but I’m pretty sure we will not be finding a polo field up here. But, maybe I’m wrong; the Italians do have their own way of doing, well, everything. Driving, that is for sure. I hadn’t been on an auto adventure like this since my first chaotic ride through Buenos Aires. Guess the Italians took that tradition straight down to South America when they emigrated.
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