The corner bar
Espresso since seven, gossip since forever. One minute away.
Around the corner
The quarter
Locanda sits in the oldest part of town, where the lanes are too narrow for cars and too interesting to hurry through. Here is a day the way we would spend it.
8:00
Coffee at the bar on the corner
Order at the counter, drink it standing, pay on the way out. Two minutes, and you are a local.
9:30
The morning market
Fish on ice, peaches by the crate, a woman who sells only lemons. Come hungry, leave with a bag you did not plan.
11:00
Shutters and the long way round
No map. Turn left at every washing line and right at every cat. You will get lost, which is the point.
13:00
Lunch under the vines
A courtyard three lanes away, a short menu, a jug of house white. Lunch here takes as long as it takes.
16:00
Siesta, no exceptions
The shops close, the street goes quiet and so do you. Shutters half closed, a book, a nap.
18:30
Spritz on our roof
The roof opens at six. Watch the old town turn orange, then pink, then blue.
21:00
Supper three doors down
Ask us for a table. We know the cook, and the cook knows what is good tonight.
Our neighbours
Six places we send everyone
The bakery
Right across the lane. Follow the smell at six in the morning.
The covered market
Two minutes down the hill. Best before ten, busiest on Saturday.
The bookshop with the cat
Old maps, new novels and a cat who decides if you can stay.
The tailor
Lost a button? Torn a hem? Back by the afternoon.
The small beach
Fifteen minutes on foot, past the harbour. Bring a towel from your room.