You've seen this photo. But indulge me, please. I'm setting the scene.
Us girls stayed at the Alla Porta Rossa, third row from the top, the rosy-colored building almost at the end. We were in the top apartment, called the Crem Caramel. It was as delicious as it sounds - a dreamy little studio with a tile balcony the size of the whole apartment.
(Now, before you decide to hate me, please understand that these days, I can't travel further than downtown for shoes. Shoes on sale. This was THE trip. Know what I mean?)
Anyhoo, the views. I'm not making this up. From the front balcony, I give you this...
And then to the left, down to the village...
We spent four days in complete bliss. Here we are, exhausted from swimming and hiking around, enjoying a wee scoop of gelato.
Our third night there, we heard voices carrying through the village. The sound rose and fell. We couldn't understand the words, of course, but figured it was just a television turned up too far. How Rude! In this paradise, someone had the nerve to shatter the peaceful evening with an Italian sitcom?!
Then we saw people gathering outside a restaurant or something. Over the next few minutes, the crowd grew. We decided walk down and investigate.
When we came around the corner, we discovered two rows of chairs outside a local bar, facing the opposite stone wall... where they were playing were playing a movie. We stood transfixed, vaguely disoriented, as we John Wayne ride up on his horse!
Heck yes! We arrived just in time to see The Duke swagger into a sick little boy's bedroom, looking distinctly uncomfortable. But as the sheriff, he bravely smiled and approached the boy's bed.
Then he took off his hat and growled, "Ciao."
We didn't stay long because we couldn't control our giggles. Back out on "our" balcony, we listened to Old West Italiano for the next hour and a half. Punctuated by gunfights, of course. And galloping hooves.
In my world, John Wayne will always be Italian.