“I arrived in Ancona on the evening of February 25, 1744 and stayed at the best hotel in the city. Satisfied with my room, I told the owner that I wanted to order a small meal. He replied that during Lent, Christians eat Lenten foods. I replied that dad gave me permission to eat fast food; he asked to see permission; I replied that the permission was verbal; he didn't want to believe me; I called him a fool; he suggested staying somewhere else; This last unexpected proposal from the owner puzzled me. I swear, I swear; and so, an important character appears from the room and declares that I am wrong, wanting to eat fast food, because in Ancona fast food is better, that I am wrong, wanting to force the owner to take my word for it, that I have permission, that I am wrong if received such permission at my age that I was wrong for not asking for written permission, that I was wrong for awarding the owner the title of a fool, since he was free not to want to accommodate me, and, finally, I was wrong for making so much noise. This man, who came to interfere in my affairs without asking and who left his room solely to make me all these conceivable reproaches, almost made me laugh..."