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Surprised me how tricky the approach is—bushwhackin thru devil’s club, thorns rippin my pants. Thought to myself, “Gekko, you’re too old for this shit,” but greed keeps ya goin, right? Greed for that view, that rush. Ain’t no trail markers, no hipster guides—figure it out or die, pal. One time, I slipped on loose shale—almost ate it, 200-foot drop. Heart poundin, I’m yellin, “I’m not here to be liked, I’m here to win!”—straight outta Fincher’s flick. Pulled myself up, laughin like a maniac.

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Next, I head to the old town, you know, where the medieval vibes hit you. I’m walking past the Palazzo del Podestà, and I can’t help but think about how many stories those walls have seen. It’s kinda inspiring, right? But then I see a pigeon. And not just any pigeon. This dude is strutting like he owns the place. I’m like, “Chill, bro, you’re not the mayor.”

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