“Due caffe latte, per favore,” my husband requests our normal order to our waitress. We sit across from each other in front of the café, at a metal table set atop uneven cobblestones. I have the perfect view to people watch. Local shopkeepers prepare their stores for the hordes of tourists to descend later. A man on a bike delivers produce to the restaurant behind us (including the biggest lemons I’ve ever seen). Occasionally, luggage wheels click down the cobblestone as a couple like us walks to the train and away from this idyllic, little town.

We unhurriedly sip our espresso and savor croissants for another thirty minutes before we, too, roll our luggage to the train station up the hill.