Beach Tunnel, Pietra Ligure

A long, long time ago I camped with my parents across the road from here. The campsite has gone, but the tunnel to the beach, amazingly, is still here. The deli on the corner that smelled so exotic to me is now a hairdressing salon; it would probably still smell exotic, but in a different way.

This evening we ate at the other restaurant in Balestrino, the one frequented by the locals. Another wonderful meal, this time accompanied by a jazz trio with singer. How does this happen? Did I have a really hard time in a previous life?