There are two Anconas: one is the foul-smelling (is it an oil refinery up the coast? Or drains?) and workaday (i.e. mixed dodgy and respectable) area around the railway station, and the other is the cluster of mellow-hued, newly cleaned buildings above the port which makes for such a picturesque scene from the deck of the ferry.
I wonder if I am being superficial and patronising when I conclude that the pleasures of the weather and the sociable, outdoor life might make living in the lower-rent area of Ancona pleasanter than the same life would be in, say, Hull? I probably am; when I opened the shutters of the hotel bedroom this morning and saw only a small patch of sky above the crowded courtyard, I realised that I would rather pay the price of constant drizzle to live more expansively.