0497 Reaching the Adriatic Coast (Ita 022—new)

Pescara Travel Blog

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…And finally, I reach the Eastern Shore…

 

Pescara is just a few miles from Chieti, but the contrast is immediate.  There’s no old town,  no ancient stone alleyways, no castle… just a very run of the mill modern downtown and commercial district. 

 

One thing that catches my eye is an open air market right near the train station run entirely by Africans. It includes stalls selling jackets, shoes, counterfeit Gucci bags--  and even a little “mini cinema” where you can sit in front of a TV and watch African movies…

 

It’s nice to see African vendors--  who are just trying to make a living--  being shown a bit of respect by being given their own little turf… but it raises a question:  by providing them with this market, is the government sanctioning counterfeiting?

 

I head down to the beach which is nothing but neatly lined up beach umbrellas and beach chairs for as far as the eye can see… But they’re all empty now… Apparently, even though it’s technically still summer, beach season is over…


There is a lively pedestrian walkway through town… and a pleasant walk along the shore…

 

Definitely a different blend of people here on the Eastside… A lot of Africans selling umbrellas, lighters--  just about anything… A lot of Roma folks begging or busking… And quite a few South Asians as well, some of them selling things as well, others running the little cybercafĂ©/call centers…

 

Overall I continue to get the impression that people are much more unfriendly on this side.

  Sometimes I catch an older guy staring at me, I greet him--  and he just keeps staring at me… My suspicion is that this area is a popular landing area for illegal immigrants coming from Africa--  but perhaps also from Albania.  Maybe since I’m carrying me shoulder bag around, people might assume I’m an illegal Albanian or something like that…

 

I have a rather odd experience, I stop for some ice cream and the guy serves me a triple cone… I go to pay, but he refuses to accept.  After I finish I go to try to pay again, thinking it was a misunderstanding, he refuses again… After I thank him and walk out,  he hurries out and brings me a bottle of water…


Not quite sure to make of it--  maybe he was a poor immigrant himself at one time and seeing me reminded him of hard times… 

 

I must say I was touched by his kindness--  misguided as it might have been…

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Pescara
photo by: emperial78