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About Genoa

So, picture this—I’m drivin’ down some sketchy backroad, lookin’ for a story. Not sayin’ I was huntin’ a prostitute myself, nah, but I seen ‘em. Neon lights flickerin’, girls in heels higher than a Texas oil rig. One time, I swear, this gal waved at me—thought I was a john! Made me madder’n a wet hen. I ain’t that guy! But then I laughed—life’s funny, y’all. How’s that workin’ for ya, struttin’ your stuff for a quick buck?

20 thoughts on “The Best Guide To Dorgali, Sardinia”

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Next, I head to the market at Piazza del Popolo. Oh boy, the chaos! Fresh fruits, veggies, and the smell of local cheeses. I’m in heaven. I grab some pecorino, and this old lady, Nonna Rosa, she’s haggling like a pro. I swear, she could sell ice to an Eskimo. She sees me and says, “You need to learn how to bargain, young man!” I’m like, “I’m a clergyman, not a merchant!” But I love her spirit.

On motorcycles in the protected areas of Dorgali, eight of them end up in trouble