Most tourists arrive at Ancona for no other reason than to embark on the ferry as soon as possible. Some years ago, having just returned from Greece, we were in search of a garage. The desperately needed part for the old Iveco wasn’t immediately available that Thursday. We were, therefore, obliged to stay for the weekend. The coming and going of big ferries carried a renewed atmosphere of longing for the other side of the sea. Their sirens reflected against the high wall of buildings along the harbour. We soon became enchanted by the overall atmosphere and the modest beauty of the city with its – to Italian standards – rather unspectacular sites.
The unspectacular but charming old city of Ancona – Italy
Now, having returned to Ancona to once more cross to Greece, we were eager to recall those memories by revisiting the city centre. Following our taste buds’ memory of that fantastic ice cream, we headed towards Ancona’s main street. Our search appeared to be fruitless. The ice-cream stall had stopped its business. It’s clear that memories should better stay where they belong. In our head.
Back on the quayside, witnessing the arrival of our ferry, then driving the car into the garage decks and somewhat later overlooking the city from some 20m above, it all smelled like adventure. But, apart from leaving the harbour, crossing the Adriatic is rather boring, especially when the sky and the water are grey. One becomes obliged to be lazy and just hang around on board. An ideal moment for studying your maps once again and imagining how things would play out on the journey ahead. If such dreaming is one of the more pleasurable aspects of overlanding (yes, in this particular circumstance, more a kind of ‘oversea-ing’), then why are we so eager to reach our destination? Because there are a lot of interesting things to see? Because we need to fill supplies? Probably, but maybe even more so because each destination is an inevitable source of renewed travel fantasies. Wanderlust is a chronic disease.
The arrival of the ferry: a taste of adventure in material form
The onboard restaurant appeared to be a good pastime for the evening. One of the waiters happened to be the funniest guy in town. Each time that he popped up with fresh dishes at one table or another, he started improvising crooning sob stories about his guests. He especially focused on the truckers, who were aware that the food in the à la carte restaurant was much better than the one in the selfservice for more or less the same price. Or maybe, it just tasted better due to this unexpectedly emerging human connection between all of the guests.
It’s reassuring to meet people who, despite the monotonous routine of their daily job, manage to create moments of joy that randomly connect people for a moment or two and leave them with a smile of understanding. I’m definitely not a fan of crooner songs, but I humbly admit: even they can provoke a feeling of all being in the same boat.