CRF: San Marino

"CRF" is not a crime show you've never heard of, it stands for "Cutting Room Floor." Below are some of our favorite pics that never made the blog. We figured we'd reminisce a little while we vacation "off map." (Back on the trail April 14th).

A little over a year ago we were in San Marino. Every microstate is strange, but this little country is one of the strangest.

We explored San Marino with a kind of frantic, springtime jubilation. The weather had finally warmed up after our long, soviet winter. There were flowers and plenty of sunshine. We hiked to every corner.

We had a goal of having an Aperol spritz in each of the country’s nine municipalities – we can’t remember if we actually accomplished the feat or not, but we came really close. This was what remained after a group of young kids shared a bucket of “sprizz” (as they call it). We look back pretty fondly on the “apperativos” they serve with drinks.

Tiled roofs in the capital, which has some of the best views in the country and some very cool towers.

We camped for more than half our time in San Marino, at the country’s only official campground. The on site restaurant was called “Garden,” and we ate there more times than we should have. The pizza was so good we couldn’t help ourselves.

A police car hood – we thought about doing a post about all the different military and police divisions, but never ended up doing it. Somewhat comically, tiny San Marino has two different types of police and six different divisions in its military - including the fearsome Crossbow Corps. (We're not making that up).

Flowers at the weekly market in Borgo Maggiore.

One of the few gas stations.

A burnt tree near where we illegally camped one night.

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Gypsy Kitchens: Tomato-Apple Bruschette

Bruchette are among the most common things one finds on Italian menus and restaurant tables. It's a good use for stale bread - bread goes stale when it sits out at a bakery all day, then is left unwrapped around the house for a few more hours. At our little campsite, we concocted a slightly unorthodox version with apples added to the mixture.
Lacking a toaster oven, we cut the bread up beforehand so that it would get harder faster. We bought pesto - which is sold from the deli counter at the supermarket - to spread on it as a kind of base layer.
We mixed tomato, apple and red onion with salt and olive oil for the top, then let it sit for a few minutes so that the flavors would meld with one another. The apples added a nice crunch to the tomato, and the pesto added the herb flavors we were looking for.

Things Sammarinese People Like

Cranes. Not the feathered type or the paper type, but the type that lift things. Warm weather always brings construction and in San Marino that involves a lot of cranes. It's a country built up the sides of a mountain, so it seems pretty logical- especially because a lot of the buildings they're working on are not only built on seriously steep hills, they are also surrounded by narrow streets that would never fit a construction truck.
We realized that there were so many cranes when we found ourselves saying, "Wow, that would be such a great picture if that crane wasn't there" multiple times per day. In fact, we toyed with the idea of publishing a post simply called "Great Pictures of Cranes Ruining Great Pictures." After a while, they just became part of the scenery for us. If you look at some of Merlin's favorite views, you can definitely spot a crane.
Double-Decker Tramezzini. Like aperitivo, this was a case of the Sammarinese taking something Italian a step further. A tramezzino is a sandwich traditionally made with an oversized piece of white bread (cut diagonally, de-crusted) and a simple filling. In San Marino, however, there were three pieces of bread (or 1 1/2, really) and two different sets of fillings. The combinations we ran into most often were tuna & artichoke + lettuce & tomato and mushroom & mayo + ham & cheese. I thought that it was pretty nice to be able to, essentially, have two tramezzini, but save eating a piece of bread. Merlin thought of it as having two tramezzini and getting one less piece of bread. We concluded that the Italian variety was better either way you (diagonally) cut it, because these were a bit of a mushy flavor overload.
San Marino Adventures is a pretty big deal here. It's the "biggest Adventure Park on the Adriatic Riviera," according to its promotional literature and you see signs for it posted along every major road in San Marino. We visited a few times, because the parking lot adjacent was a perfect home base for several hikes, and played with the idea of trying it out ourselves. In the end, we only watched as other people 'adventured' across ladders strung up high in trees and across zip lines. Laughing at people laughing at their loved ones who are not laughing at all as they try to untangle themselves from a net is pretty priceless.
Air Guns. We spent a lot of our two weeks in San Marino trying to figure out what the heck all the air guns were about. A set of google searches led nowhere. Are they legal here and not in Italy? Are there actual guns sold inside, too, that can't be advertised? Up in the Historic Center, the amount of military and arms-ccentric shops is baffling. We passed by seven of them just looking for postcards. Along with air rifles and air handguns, they sell camouflage duds, pocket knives, swords and the like.
Needless to say, we saw many a teenage boy and grown man carrying around sword-sized boxes. Initially, we figured it was some strange tourist thing - but then we saw Air Gun stores along the highway and in other parts of town devoid of tourist attractions. My theory is this: The three towers lend themselves perfectly to a sort of Medieval Times brand of tourism, which led to the Museum of Torture and the Museum of Modern Weaponry, as well as shops selling swords and shields. Over time, sword and shield shops evolved to include air guns and the tourism bureau pushed to get some sort of law in place making it easier and/or cheaper to buy those things in San Marino than in surrounding Italy. But that's just a theory.
Local Wine on Tap. Every bar and cafe had San Marino wine on tap. It was always the white, sparkling (frizzante) variety and shared the tap with either a German beer or Coca Cola. They like their wine on tap so much, that at most casual eateries, there's no way of ordering wine by the glass. You chose between 1/4, 1/2 or 1 litre, each of which would be placed on your table in a branded carafe like the one above. It's an excellent way of doing things, really. In San Marino, we drank tap wine and bottled water. (For the record: tap water is totally potable here, just -like most of Europe- not served in restaurants).
The Funivia runs from Borgo Maggiore to the Centro Storico, arguably the two most popular towns in San Marino. It seemed to be running constantly and the parking lot at the bottom was perpetually full. The fact that driving up and into the historic center is sort of difficult, parking is more expensive and access is quite limited adds to the funivia's popularity. There was a walking path up, as well - the Costa dell'Arnella Footpath - which Merlin and I preferred. We figured, the twenty minute climb was actually faster than waiting for the tram, yet we saw only three or four people (2 of whom were on mountain bikes) in our dozen or so trips up/down.
Looking down from the top, we could see why more people didn't take to the trail and why they all liked the funivia so much. Of course, you don't actually walk the 475 foot gradient straight up like the funivia, there are enough turns to make it pleasant. (It was still amazing, though, to see the mountain bikers coming up alongside us).

Honorable Mentions

L'Agretti. On a few hikes, we ran into people poking around in the grass with a stick while carrying a handful of weeds. Then, we had lunch at a restaurant in Serravalle and were served a vegetable called agretto, which looked like steamed dark green grass and tasted like sweet spinach. The proprietor told us that they don't have agretto in America and that it grows "right in the sand." The next time we saw a hiker doing some casual weeding, we put two and two together. If you're ever in an Italian or Sammarinese supermarket and see a bundle of vegetable that looks like chives, but firmer and with a purplish bottom, I highly suggest you get some and cook it up.

Guard Dogs. Unfortunately, we learned how much the Sammarinese like these firsthand. Bark, bark, bark was basically the soundtrack to most of our walks anywhere close to a house. They were all very intent on protecting their owner's property. In fact, we didn't pass a single dog that didn't yelp and growl at us. Luckily, all of them were either fenced in or chained, which was comforting. Merlin thinks that the reason they were particularly aggressive was the fact that they were fenced in or chained. Chicken and egg.

Hello Kitty. I have seen the following Hello Kitty branded items since arriving in San Marino: necklace, keychain, purse, backpack, sweatshirt, sweatpants, car visor, sunglasses and more that I'm sure I've forgotten. Babies, little girls and grown women all really like the pink-bowed feline. I definitely saw a commercial advertising a Hello Kitty powdered sugar sifter - for decorating cakes.

Views Inward and of the Appenines

San Marino is a beautiful place, as long as you look outward. There are pretty spots in-country (Montegiardano and Faetano are beautiful, small towns), but there is also a lot of bad sixties architecture and high-rise sprawl. Because it's a desirable place to live, a lot of people live here. Luckily for the Sammarinese, the Italian hills that surround them are very picturesque, and the views are spectacular. This is a westward view at dawn from a high point in Aquaviva. The mountains are in La Marche, the Italian region that borders San Marino to the south.
At sunset, looking east from a nearby point. The cluster of lights high up on the right is the upper town of San Marino proper, on top of Monte Titano. The low land to the left is the coast, where the lights of Rimini are visible in the far distance.
This is a view from Montegiardino, on the far eastern border of the country, looking westward at Monte Titano. If you look closely, you can see the three towers on the summit. Here, it's easy to put the country's size into perspective: the mountain, with the capital on top, is basically at the center of the country, so this picture essentially includes the entire eastern portion of the republic. We've mentioned this time and again, but this is a small country - with only twenty-four square miles of land, it's the third smallest in Europe and the fifth smallest in the world.
The ocean is clearly visible from San Marino town. Below, in the foreground, the town of Borgo Maggiore can be seen. Beyond, snaking along the road towards the left hand side, are the towns of Domagnano, Serravalle and Dogana. There is then a ten mile swath of Italy between the border and the Mediterranean. This part of Italy is the Emilia-Romagna region.
Looking the other way from the top of the mountain, the Appenine mountains begin to rise in earnest. The north-south range is lower here than in other places, but the peaks are still beautiful. The town of Aquaviva, the westernmost village in the land, is hidden in a valley just behind that closest, dark peak.
Looking up at Monte Titano, with the overdeveloped hills below it. Getting around on this side of the mountain isn't much fun. There is basically one very busy, winding, highwaylike road that curves up from Dogano (which is actually the largest town in San Marino - bigger, even, than the capital) up to the right of the peak and around to the top. It's full of hairpins and sudden roundabouts, police traps and crazy drivers, hidden exits and confusing signs. We've become accustomed to it, but prefer a back road that we discovered by chance.
Much of the lower republic, toward the ocean, looks like this: big buildings and big construction sites. This was our view from the apartment we rented for a few nights in the beginning of our stay. It was pretty in its own way, but not particularly appealing.
At sunset, from near our (probably illegal) campsite in parco Montecerretto. The Italian portion of the mountains - the border is just down the hill there - is almost empty. A few little towns are visible in the daytime, strung out on some of the hills, but there's not much in between.
A nearly identical view, during another sunset, from higher up the mountain. With these views, it's easy to find San Marino a beautiful place, even if its Italian neighbors don't enjoy looking at its sprawl.

Aperitivo: A Love/Hate Relationship

It began in Italy, about a month ago. Literally the moment we crossed the border from Slovenia into Fruili-Venezia Guilia, we met Aperitivo. Too used to five or six o'clock dinners in short-days-Moldova, we had a few hours to kill before settling down for a meal. So, we ordered some drinks at a bar. With our first glass of wine, we were given peanuts and potato chips. Our second order brought finger sandwiches and our third, bruschetta. Early dinner after all! For the next two weeks, we ruined many an appetite (but saved many a euro) with aperitivo. If we stayed in a town for more than a day, we'd find ourselves referring to bars according to their offerings. "Where do you want to go for a drink? Popcorn Place or Pistachio Cafe?" Things were kicked up a notch in San Marino, though...
It turns out that, like Italians, Sammarinese people really like their drink snacks. However, they have a slightly different method of going about it. Around noon, bowls of olives, chips and nuts are set up on the corner of a bar. That way, if you came in for a drink, you can toothpick yourself a little snack. At around five, sandwiches that went unsold that day (my assumption) are cut up and stacked onto plates. Sometime after that, a fresh pizza will come out of the oven and join the aperitivo buffet. Somehow, eating a free dinner of potato chips has lost its romantic edge for us. So, early on in the country, we decided to sit at a table instead of subjecting ourselves to temptation at the bar.
But Aperitivo would follow! The bartender would inevitably come on over with a big smile and plate loaded with snacks. Now it was not only more difficult to stop ourselves from eating it, but we were having a much larger share of it than if we'd been sampling from the general pool. It's a small country, so we've revisited certain cafes over and over. When, upon our fifth visit to Garden Restaurant Merlin ordered our pre-dinner wine "and please no peanuts," the very friendly waitress smiled and laughed. And then brought us a bowl of peanuts.
The only feasible solution to this dilemma was to just start drinking at home (meaning in our tent or at a picnic table). The first barrier was to figure out a way to have a cold drink, when wine is sold unfrigerated, ice isn't sold at all and it's ranged from 60 - 80degrees most days. We filled up a pot with cold well water and set our Sammarinese frizzante inside. As we waited, we missed/longed for Aperitivo. From that time forward, we planned ahead. Piado with a slice of cheese, a cherry tomato and a fresh leaf of basil goes down a lot lighter than a cube of foccaccia. Picking up some marinated artichokes from a deli was an even quicker, easier method of aperitivo-ing we often employed.
Other times, we strayed from the usual drink snack fare altogether and went full-on Camp. In our two weeks in San Marino, we consumed two cans of King Oscar sardines (the best sardines on the planet) and this absolutely delicious can of sprats from Riga recommended by Merlin's uncle. We're not sure how he procures these Latvian sprats in Vermont, but being as we brought our King Oscars over here from America, we appreciate and understand how one would go to great lengths for the perfect can of fish.
With our homemade variety, we got back in touch with the real meaning of aperitivo - spurring one's appetite awake before dinner as opposed to completely killing it from the inside out. Three countries from now, or possibly even sooner, I can see myself at a bar drinking something other than an Aperol Spritz. Most likely a beer. I will turn to my right and wish I saw my old friend Aperitivo at the corner of the bar. I may even wind up ordering badly made martinis so that I can ask for extra olives. But for now, I am glad to leave this period of classy junk food behind me.

What is a Sammarinese?

What is someone from San Marino called? Why, a Sammarinese, of course! Plural: Sammarineses, or - in Italian - Sammarinese, the same as the singular. It's a strange moniker, and sounds a little like a garbled form of what you would expect them to be called... Our first few days, we were saying "San Mariner" and "San Marinite." These young Sammarinese were fixtures at a bar we frequented in Seravalle - usually they ordered their drinks separately, but one night they got a bucket of Aperol spritz. They drank it with long straws and had a grand old time.
The license plates here are rather quaint, namely because they aren't the typical European style. In fact, the microstate isn't even a member of the EU or a signee of the Schengen agreement, though they use the euro and have an open border with Italy (their only neighbor).
Saint Marinus was, of course, the original Sammarinese and the namesake of the country - a whole floor, practically, of the state museum was dedicated to paintings of the saint, many of them depicting him like this, holding up a miniature Monte Titano.
It's a prosperous country, with the lowest unemployment rate in Europe, a budget surplus, no national debt, a wealthy populace and subsidized lunches for workers. We aren't sure, exactly, how the lunch program works. The economic wellbeing is clearly made possible by the tourist industry - over three million people visit every year, and their spending accounts for more than fifty percent of the GDP. Because there are lower income taxes here than in Italy, it's quite difficult to become a resident and there are very few immigrants.

Even though its military is tiny, there are six separate divisions within San Marino's armed forces, plus the police force. There are: the Guardians of the Rock, the Guard of the Council, the Crossbow Corps, the Gendarmerie (not to be confused with the police), the Army Militia and the Military Ensemble. This last division is really just a marching band, but they are probably more important to the republic than the others. Each group has its own set of uniforms - one of our favorites is this yellow outfit, complete with marigold gloves. This man officially keeps watch on one of the main gates to the old town, but really just directs traffic and looks aloof.
There isn't much flat ground in the country, and, although the Adriatic is visible from the eastern part of Mount Titano, it is completely landlocked. There is a lake, though, and this is it. I would call it a manmade mudhole, personally, but it's marked on the maps and is mentioned in much of the tourist literature. It's primarily used for fishing (it's stocked, of course), the purpose it was built for. We took a long walk in the sun on the hottest day of our stay, hoping to find the water more inviting than it was. It's been hard not to cross into Italy and head down the long slope to the shore - this was, needless to say, a disappointment.

Terra di San Marino

Tourism, banking, ceramics and electronics are the key industries in San Marino - basically everything else is imported from Italy. However, there is a little cluster of products made right here in the country. One of which is "Torta Tre Monti," the traditional Sammarinese cake which has been produced commercially by La Serenissima since 1942. (The "Antique Bake Shop" seems to have a monopoly on the industry).
Layers of wafer are stuck together with hazelnut/chocolate frosting and then its edges are "crowned" with chocolate fondue. It is completely handmade, using the same techniques as sixty years ago and is traditionally much larger and circular. We just didn't need that much torte, so we opted for the 21st century snack-size variety. La Serenissima also makes "Torta Titano," the other Sammarinese cake, which is basically the same thing but instead of wafers, softer puff pastry is layered. They both have shelf lives of about a year, so I can imagine they're quite popular around Christmas time and in college care packages.
They real pride of the Sammarinese gastronomic world, though, is their Terra di San Marino Consortium and brand. The agricultural cooperative is well funded by the government and works to ensure that the country's rural land is protected and promoted. Almost half of all the terrain here is agricultural, but being surrounded by Italy, it's a little more difficult to get a good "Buy Local" movement off the ground. In fact, when we set out to visit the consortium, we found just an office and returned to the Italian chain grocery store to look for the Terra di San Marino logo on the shelves. The first thing we found was this package of piada.
Piada bread and sandwiches created with it (piadinos) are ever present in San Marino, but come originally from the surrounding Emilia-Romagna region of Italy. It looks, tastes and feels exactly like a flour tortilla - though maybe a tiny bit thicker? Resisting the urge to make burritos, we warmed them, quartered them and coated them with a drizzle of olive oil and some paprika. Another few were dipped in honey. Unfortunately, the olive oil and honey were from foreign lands. They are two of key products in the Terra di San Marino collection, but we simply have too much of each to warrant buying some more.
The Vini Tipici Consortium is a large part of the Land of San Marino Cooperative. Merlin already spoke about our visit there and the wine itself. They also produce a few liquors and we tried out the "Acquavite di Une Moscato." Neither of us are big grappa fans, but it was actually quite nice: smooth, a little sweet....
...it also made for an excellent camping lantern! Just throw a head lamp on top and you've got yourself some nice mood lighting by which to enjoy the last of your Sammarinese cheese. That's it right there in the front. Not showing an up-close shot is a decision I've made. Let's just call this cheese a "full on Monet" in the immortal words of Clueless. It looked as much like a glob of slightly moist cream cheese as the piada looks like tortilla. Though, luckily the flavor disparity was more defined. It tasted like a tangier fresh mozzarella and had more of a stickiness to its bounce. I guess you could say it was halfway between a ball of fresh mozzarella and some run-of-the-mill brie.
Here it is packaged from the grocery store. Like wine, dairy products have their own cooperative subdivision: Centrale del Latte. They make sure that every aspect of the production process happens right here in San Marino and uphold cheesemaking traditions. Most of the cheese on offer is pretty new - I'm actually not sure if they have caves at all. It was nice to see Il Latte milk being used in almost every cappuccino we ordered, though we 've yet to find the local yogurt amongst the Dannon explosion of a grocery section. (It's really an Activia explosion, but that just sounded so wrong).