It was an uneventful day full of result less meetings in Rimini. We were a bunch of businessmen from East Euope, Russia & India, representing our countries for a business event. Things were starting to get on to us, meeting loud Italian men and snooty Italian women. It was then someone floated an idea of arranging a visit to a place called “San Marino”. Even though I have been to Italy often, San Marino sounded like an unauthentic Italian Restaurant in middle lanes of Khan Market. But the idea of getting away from business meetings and sitting next to the pretty girl from Estonia on our way to San Marino made me excited enough to join the group.

I was told enroute (by this women from Poland, who sounded like the actress from Old James Bond Movie), that San Marino is actually “The Republic of San Marino”, which means it is an independent country, without the restrictions of Visa or Passport to enter. It was a scenic ride from Rimini to the top of the hill, some 24 miles away, where TRSM is located. To me, it looked like a small town in middle of mountains of Himachal Pradesh. Probably comparable to Kasauli or Bhimtal. All I could see was a big fort with a small entrance, and a police man to control the traffic. When I say traffic, I mean 4 cars owned by the parliament, and very few cars & taxies which come from Italian cities. He was kind enough to stop the “traffic” and let us cross the road to get into the fort.

Once we were inside, the sheer luxury of the place was comparable to Champs Elysee, 5th Avenue & Ginza, all of them put together. All we could see were high end boutiques selling high end products, to high end tourist which visits the place. Being embarrassed for being at such a place, I decided to continue my journey to the top of the fort, which I overheard, had an amazing view of Italian cities of Rimini & Riccione. San Marino is also a duty free country, and thus the prices were much cheaper than Italy. Another interesting thing was numerous shops selling swords and guns (fakes, of course) of all types and kinds. They had Ninja Sword, and replicate of the one used in Kill Bill (Luv you, Uma Thurman). They had guns which Clint Eastwood carried, and I am quite sure, if I had insisted, they would have found Desi Katta, proudly made in UP (India). I crossed this building called the ‘Public Palace”. It looked like a church, or maybe a private getaway for the likes of Richard Branson and 4 beauties standing outside were just driving me crazy (Named Ferrari, Audi, Mercedes & BMW)

I continued my climb to the top of the hill. It was cold & crisp, and the Oxygen was getting thin. Actually, when the only exercise you do is to climb up 2 levels of stairs to reach your home, walking anywhere, anytime makes to gasp for more O2. Otherwise, it was not too steep or high. I don’t want to sound like a pervert, but I wanted to have a picture with this Estonian on the top of the hill, to show and brag to my friends, of me being the Indian George Clooney. And there I was, on the top of the fort. And yes, the effort was worth it. My “target” had already left, but I didn’t even think about her. I was standing atop centuries old fort, looking down at several tiny Italian villages, just starting to twinkle in the twilight.

It was getting dark, and I had to reach down to my bus at the bottom of the fort. I knew I had to make a few stops on my way, to buy the duty free perfume, and probably the Uma Thurman Sword. I didn’t buy either of them, but utilized my time having a locally made beer in one of the quaint cafes. It was unusual to have a micro brewery in this tiny country, and I wouldn’t miss a chance to savor the delicacy. The beer & weather were extremely cold. Thankfully, the server was not.

I was among the last ones to reach back to my bus. I knew from the faces that no body wanted to leave, but me. Me, because I have had beer and now, it was “pee-pee” time boys.