…but a few more may suffice. Contrasting colors cascade the eyes everywhere you look. Grape vines wind their way up the terraced ridges that hug the harbor. Nestled in its safe embrace, pastels coat the crowded, seaward facing edifices. Beautiful. I should take a picture. This is easy to see.

What you can’t see however, is the rhythmic sound of cascading waves upon the beach far below. Just above the foam, excited exchanges from the town square add to the soothing white noise. Both coalesce skywards, just beyond my perch, to the caws of looming gulls. Circling in their own rhythm, the inevitable thieves feign attack - every pass a challenge cut short. Guard this focaccia with your life. The taste of their target is well worth their patience and trying to keep my own, each bite is drawn out so the oil, the salami, and the salt are fully savored. The soreness in my legs and the slight throbbing of my shoulders remind me of the source of my appetite and the hike to my room. Almost on cue, a gentle brush from a cool breeze wicks the moisture from my brow, from that climb more than worth its labor. The wafting relief continues to soothe as it delivers the aroma of fruits and oak - of the recently uncorked bottle of wine.

Beautiful. I should take a picture. Sit down…close my eyes…and take a picture…