We did not mean to sit so still, but we had plenty of time. Why would we rush around to see everything when we could stay as long as we wanted?
The stone house was cold in the morning. We stayed under piles of blankets until we could hear the fire. Then, we went to help with breakfast, unwrapping cheese, slicing bread, boiling water for more coffee. We sat on a long bench with our backs against the wall, cozy with the others who were equally as indolent. When the sun was high enough to warm the patio, we moved outside to read or scribble postcards. I would pretend to sketch but really, would gaze lethargically across to the next hill town.
Activity might be an early morning visit to the hot springs, or a trip into town to relocate our idleness to a cafe. We’d pick up more cheese, more bread, more coffee, to fuel our passive mornings. We’d meander along the cliffs gazing across the Mediterranean at the blue water. We’d wander an ancient olive grove, as slow as the 1000 year old trees.
Too lazy to be tourists but certainly not locals, we’d attained a state of Italian nirvana. Free from the pretense that we had to see and do, we threw away our itinerary and just existed, day in, day out, until it was time to go home, our bags filled with biscotti and fancy pasta and one 10 gallon jug of bright green olive oil.