It took us a few hours to reach the sea. Karl was quite thrilled. Seems everytime he gets to the ocean it's a groundhog day experience, since he doesn't seem to remember the times he spent on the French and Spanish Atlantic. The Mediterranean's more fun anyway, because you don't have that baby-swallowing surf, but rather tame wavelets perfect for testing the salty waters.
After lunch in a nice beach cafe (noodles! ice cream!) we continued to our first destination Apricale. That is a picturesque medieval village perched atop a mountain. Which is great for wandering the dusky alleys. If you're not lugging around a 30 pound wiggling toddler. We kinda got the hint that this ain't babytown, when we sat down for breakfast in our little hotel. It wasn't so much that breakfast was served on an unsecured terrace overlooking a cliff, but the hushed voices of the emptynesters lodging there.
Afternoons were spent on the bustling local town square though, where Karl made friends (and enemies) amongst the local kids, who generously (or involuntarily) provided the type of heavy baby machinery his parents were too exhausted to haul up the steep slippery stairs.
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