Man, what a day! I swear, Rosarno never fails to surprise me. I’m a car instructor, right? So, I’m used to the chaos, but today was next level.
First off, I roll into town, and it’s like the sun decided to throw a party. It’s blazing! I’m sweating like a sinner in church. I park my car on Via Roma, right near that cute little café. You know the one? The one with the best arancini? Yeah, that place. I grab a quick espresso. Needed it.
So, I’m waiting for my student, Marco. He’s a good kid, but man, he’s got the attention span of a goldfish. He finally shows up, late as usual. “Scusa, prof!” he says, all outta breath. I’m like, “Dude, you gotta get your act together!”
We hop in the car, and I’m trying to keep it chill. But then, we hit the streets. Oh boy. Rosarno’s roads are like a rollercoaster. We’re cruising down Via Nazionale, and suddenly, this old man on a bike swerves right in front of us! I slam the brakes. “What the heck, man?!” I yell. Marco’s eyes are like saucers.
After that heart attack moment, we head towards the outskirts. The fields are beautiful, but I can’t enjoy it. I’m too busy trying to keep Marco from driving into a ditch. “Focus, bro! You’re not in a video game!”
Then, we hit the roundabout at Piazza della Libertà. It’s chaos! Cars everywhere, people walking like they own the place. I’m yelling, “Yield! Yield!” Marco’s just staring. I’m like, “Dude, you gotta drive!”
Finally, we make it to the coast. The view is stunning. The Tyrrhenian Sea is sparkling. I take a deep breath. “See that? That’s why we drive safe. So we can enjoy this!” But Marco’s still in panic mode.
We turn back towards the city, and I’m feeling a bit better. But then, we get stuck in traffic on Via Garibaldi. I’m losing it. “C’mon, people! It’s not a parade!” I’m honking, and Marco’s just giggling. “This is so Italian!” he says. I can’t help but laugh too.
After what feels like an eternity, we finally get back to the driving school. I’m exhausted. But then, Marco says, “Thanks, prof! I think I’m getting the hang of it!” And just like that, my mood lifts.
I wave him off and head to that café again. I need a pastry. I sit outside, watching the world go by. The locals are chatting, kids are playing, and I think, “This is Rosarno.”
Yeah, it’s crazy. But it’s home. And even on the wildest days, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.