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swing as shepherds worked their sheep and farmers tended fields. The warming sun cast a hue that suggested a golden life; indeed, it felt as such.
Reaching the piazza the aroma of fresh coffee filled the air so much that we felt compelled to sit and enjoy as the world slipped by. I again grinned, the thought of a few days earlier, other non-Italian speakers asking for a latte and receiving a glass of hot milk. I must remember to ask for a café latte.
The Pasticceria provided a coffee that would rival anything from home, I’ m from Melbourne, the self-proclaimed coffee capital of the world, the breakfast pastry was to die for. It was the perfect way to start a day or to finish an early morning exploration of a small Italian hilltop town, a community that loves a festival, and a people proud of their history. I could fall in love with a town like Pietralunga, a lifestyle content and relaxed, and accepting of a foreign woman slipping into a new way of life.
“ What are you thinking about?”, my partnered quietly asked. I smiled, a shrug of contentment.“ Rom-coms,” I winked. MG
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