I got heatstroke here. Later that night, my Italian cousins asked us if we wanted to go to a party. Having soaked in cold water for an hour or two, and slept for several more, and then been forced to eat 45 pounds of pasta and lamb and prosciutto and grappa-spiked espresso, I felt much better, so I agreed. We drove an hour to Pescara, where we were led down a narrow street to a cul-de-sac. There we found a large group of small children and their grandparents doing the Macarena, with the music provided by a live polka band. We got gelato. It was awesome.
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