Sunday morning reminiscence – cinque Terre c.1999
We stir from sleep. languid but rested; awakened by the ferry leaving Manarola for Rio Maggiore. On our balcony we hear the hotel service laying out our breakfast. Cappucinos, fresh bread, berries, jam, yogurt and mueslix. The disembodied sounds of human industry float to us on the slight breeze. Snippets of Italian conversation, the clink of breakfast dishes. The sea is a flat plane of blue glass far below. A cat drops to our balcony from the one above, mewing for milk. Later, we will walk down the narrow streets through town to the rocky beach, where we will hit our blankets like soldiers under small arms fire.
Dylan, your first direct experience of Italy will be this Christmas. We can not wait to see how much your Italian DNA responds to the rhythm of Italian life. The Piazza awaits!