Does the soil speak to me? Yes and no. I'd pictured great tracts of farmland bursting with perfect produce. Instead, there are plots of every size in every possible place-in front yards, abutting gas stations, along the edges of the road. The vegetation is rampant, elbows flying-watch out, here I come! Just like the drivers in SD's town. There are hardly any signs, no working traffic lights, nobody stops. Except me. Then everybody honks as if I'm the crazy one. At 20:00, the streets are full of people. Chairs are set inches from roaring bikes, and nobody seems to notice. Anarchy is in the drivers, the fields, the town?in the Italian blood. I know. I feel it myself. Do you eat at 20:00 to waiting of zero-traffic? If Yes - what: ?

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