and a Via info point that was, of course, closed on a Saturday (although a cafe offers a stamp just as you enter the town, and the Commune was open).
Then a noisy, and slightly stomach-churning fenced section at the side of the busy autostrada, before a long stretch of narrow dusty dirt track, every car sending up clouds of dust in its wake, some drivers slowing down, others just churning it up. But lined with grand palatial houses, many with well-established pines standing sentinel along the drive.
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