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About Genoa

So, I lean over, real gruff, say, “How much, lady?” She smirks, throws out a number—50 bucks! 50 freakin bucks! I’m pissed—highway robbery for 15 minutes of awkward! “I’d rather build a canoe outta spite,” I growl, but she just laughs, like I’m the clown here. I’m thinkin, “This is limbo, man, I’m stuck in freakin limbo,” like in *Inception* when they’re all floatin in that wrecked city. Surprised me, though—she didn’t flinch, tough as nails, gotta respect that. Made me almost happy, seein a gal hold her own in this dump.

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As the sun sets, we end up at this little gelato place. I get pistachio, and it’s heavenly. I’m sitting there, enjoying my gelato, and I realize, despite the craziness, today was awesome. Druento, with all its quirks, is my kinda place.

Tracing Family History: Eugenio Menegon in Druento (Piedmont, Italy)