[Nov. 2009] San Marino is a foreign country in the province of Emilia Romagna, Italy.
We visited there, driving for 4 hours from Monza, a suburb of Milan, where we were staying.
This country, where one mountain is one country, is larger than the Vatican City, where one city is one country, but it is the fifth smallest country in the world.
And it is said to be the oldest republic in the world.
There is also an aspect that it is a tax haven, though nowadays because of the agreement with Italian government, it is not 100% tax free.
The language is Italian, with the accent of Emilia Romagna, and the currency is Euro, but the cars have their own license plate, which is different from that of Italy.
It also has its own national flag, consisting of white, which is said to represent purity, and blue, which means the sky and the Adriatic Sea, and has a coat of arms in the middle.
The mountain of San Marino is named Mt. Titano and is about 740 meters above sea level.
I understand that the beginning of the country was when a mason named Marino, who fled from the persecution of Christianity in the 4th century, settled in this mountain and built a community, but it is strange that it has been maintained as an independent country in the middle of Italy, isn’t it.
When we drove up to this mountain and got off, the fog was thick and the atmosphere was mysterious.
First, we had a quick walk around the Liberty Square in the centre of the old town.
By the way, the statue standing proudly in this square looks like a tough Roman warrior, but it is in fact the “Statue of Liberty”.
Looking at it again, certainly, it has got the breasts.
The small castle-like building behind her, that we could see vaguely in the fog is the San Marino government office, in which they have the Parliament.
After all, the visibility was poor and we had been driving for 4 hours, so we needed to take a break somewhere.
And it was quite cold because it was the end of November.
So we decided to have lunch, though it was a little early.
At this time, I ate a ravioli pasta called Cappelletti at a restaurant we entered randomly.
Cappelletti means small hats and surely they looked like that.
Apparently each woman in this region has been pursuing her own taste of this pasta for a long time, and the mother’s taste cannot be reproduced even by her daughter.
It seems that the ingredients inside also differ from person to person, but at this time it was meat-based.
I took a picture, but it’s completely out of focus and I’m sorry I can’t show it.