Ha, right number of syllables but wrong meter for Diana Ross to sing.
But it's out there about two and a half hours from our gently swaying carreta (train car).
We're more sedate than Frecciarosa, that sleek, screaming red devourer of kilometers—which is a delight to ride if cities at either end merit that kind of high-speed connection. Levanto, where we're going, is anything but cosmopolitan, however.
If you were to ask why I picked uncomplicated, serene, and thoroughly Italian Levanto to spend five nights in, I might not be able to explain very explicitly. Some of the attraction is there is very little English to be heard there, either from residents or visitors. Advertising appears focused on paisanos, rather than foreigners. Grandparents gather in the local park to watch and listen to kids' exuberant play. Soccer, jump rope, tag. Bright painted jungle bars and swings and slides do not sit idle. Memories of all that, enjoyed two years ago, as well as nearly 15 years before that, still have power to make me smile.
Our host with auto and wife will collect us from the stazione and introduce us to our new digs there.
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