It’s 5 a.m. in Urbino. Broken glass and scattered trash litter the streets and alleyways of the piazza. Flyers float with a bobbing beer bottle in the fountain. The stairs along the cafes are sticky and reek of alcohol. As the sun rises, so do the faithful employees of the Marche Multiservizi.

In this small hilltop village, hundreds of runners and spectators from all over the Marche region flock into the cobblestone streets and gather in anticipation. At nightfall, a booming voice echoes between the tight city walls and calls runners to the starting line.

On a warm, summer afternoon, five young feminist women were standing with their flyers in the Piazza Della Repubblica, looking for people to read their declarations calling for abortion rights.

The bees rush madly, crawling, buzzing among the stacked boxes of faded orange, red, yellow and green stacked spottily in the rolling hills outside this Renaissance city. Fabrizio Pesare dons fluorescent yellow pants, omitting the usual beekeeper’s suit and netted mask, daring to remove the screens of pale, yellow wax brimming with his bees, unprotected from the their stings.

Before the sun rises over the Metauro Valley, Vittorio Angeli has pulled on his blue jeans, fastened his belt buckle that is the size of his fist, and covered his silver hair with a black cowboy hat.

Marco Pierleoni is an expert on all the things he hates. As a guide at the National Gallery of Marche here, the 23-year-old spends his days explaining the history and significance of the city’s treasured Renaissance masterpieces that surround visitors to the famous Ducal Palace. And he can’t stand it.