So much can change in a week. This time last weekend I was standing in the customs queue at Rome airport after nearly 30 hours of travel. Today I have been frying sage leaves in a tiny Italian hilltop village listening to thunder rolling up the valley.
Day 1 I was restless, walking, walking, taking every path between my house and the Piazza and back.
Today, day 3, the rhythms are starting to take their form. At 7am the church bells ring out, by 9 I want to walk. I’m home to cook & feast at midday followed by a rest. 3pm is amarena gelato time, 5pm the shops open again, 6.30pm is aperol spritz o’clock…and I barely need dinner by the time I wander home.