We careened across the highlands separating our hotel from wherever it was that we were staying more toward the center of italy.
It was harrowing.
Every car, and especially every motorcycle, passed us.
On curves.
On dips.
Everywhere, all the time.
But we got there and found a copious car park right on the beach.
It was October and not too many people were on the beach.
Just enough to make it late-season festive.
I had never had fish and chips made of sardines.
They were really good.
And the Mediterranean, as it was the first time I had seen it from France, was sublime.
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