Can it really only be this morning we were walking to the airport in Geneva an almost balmy fourteen degree pre-dawn at four am? Is that tingling sensation on my forehead really just a touch of too much sun, or did some part of me stay behind during the teleportation?
As soon as we landed Dumè as always, did his utmost to erase any memories of the last few days, by guiding us on a whirlwind highlights tour of his Ajaccio. He took us in short order, to sample the best coffee in Corsica, then the best pastries in Corsica then to the market to stock up on the best produce in Corsica, followed rapidly by a tour of the Citadel, lunch, and visits to a couple of galleries, all in an attempt to cram experiences of as much of his life into ours as time would allow, while allowing just enough time for a short nap before setting off again.
We felt nothing but sympathy for the packs of day trippers descending like soldier crabs from the giant cruise ships (that sadly dominate the views of the city centre from every direction for the duration of summer), trying their best to see as much as we did in the few hours of shore leave they were allowed, without the benefit of his expert guidance.
Just like them we wish we had more time, but we have places to go, things to do, people to see.
Which is how, in the cool of the evening an hour or so to the south, we came to be sitting on the balcony of Julie’s parent’s place in Portigliolo, watching the sun slowly make its way down to that point where the light blue sky meets the Mediterranean Sea, pinching ourselves and wondering at all the circumstances that have brought us to this place in time and space.
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