Sometimes we need to take a break... Try something new. Have a change of scenery, perhaps new clothes, a weekend at the beach. Other times what we really need is a new direction and to bury old concepts and begin new plans. There is no place better to cool ones head and find new airs than the Old World.

The Old World, as contradictory as it may seem, is the precursor of new concepts in old landscapes – the old seen with a new identity. So, off I went, in search of myself... Believing that the new “me” was in a place from which it had never left.

First destination, and until then the only one: Italy. As soon as I arrived in Milan I felt an affinity with the people who politely offered to carry my luggage and guide me through the city of Duomo. So far so good...

As soon as I left Malpensa, I felt I made the right choice. Unfortunately, my destiny was not in the city forever remembered for the siblings Vitorio and Emanuele. I sought a place to consider my new plans, so I took a train for the coast and,  undecided between France and Italy, thought best to begin midway between the Cote D’ Azur and Costa Amalfitana. My first night was in Monterrosso. Walking  among the old buildings with a fresh desire to start something new here, I decided to head for the restaurants along the bay, with lots of yachts, where it seemed the nightlife went on forever.

At a table along the docks, since I was still feeling the jet-lag from the trip, I asked for a light meal. While enjoying a glass of lemoncello, just before leaving, I realized that the chef, who I had praised for the excellent risotto, was waiting for me for a walk along the docks.

The port was well lit, couples strolling and cuddling to the sound of Lucio Dalla, and the chef, now simply Alessandra, showed me how a walk could be full of surprises. When we reached the end of the point of land, nearly on a cliff, we sat on a rock to watch the sea. The kiss was a natural consequence of the setting, warm, pretty and with an Italian touch.

Alessandra’s legs –  tanned by the Mediterranean sun highlighting her delicate blonde hairs – wrapped around me, expressing all the sensuality of Italy in a simple grasp from her thighs.
Alessandra took me to the hotel where we could see the waves breaking. We enjoyed this rhythm until daybreak, when a ristretto stirred me to continue my search.
...

The train for France left at 7:45 but I wasn’t sure if this was the time or a track location. In any case, after Alessandra and the ristretto, I felt ready for anything. I got out in the first French city that I saw after the border.

Summer in Cote d’ Azur proved to have heat too intense for anyone. Something had to be done. I left the train station behind and the sea of Menton seemed to become bluer as I descended the hill - just the right place to sunbath,  french style.

Upon arriving at the beach club, I chose a lounge chair close to the sea, removed my bikini top and felt my breasts begin to toast in the French sun. To accompany my sunbath, I requested a glass of rosé, specialty of the club, and was promptly served by the attendant. Time stopped for an instant analyzing my smooth back with dimples that the Provence sun had made golden.

After a few minutes, a pretty young women placed on my table a bucket with a bottle and upon offering me the cork, I noticed her delicate hands with long and beautiful nails. Her apron indicated her working class status, but the excellent wine she recommended, of an orange coloring as are the true French rosés, made the service provided by Françoise, deserve extra consideration when it came time to leave.

When I reached the deck, after taking a short swim, I noticed that the afternoon was ending and Françoise was still there to offer me a goblet. She greeted me with a smile and displayed an uncommon desire to have me feel warm and comfortable, a desire that had me think of dinner with an eye on desert.

Reflecting on the possibilities of the night life in Menton, limited, Françoise convinced me to have dinner at a pizzeria at seaside with an Italian owner - after all we were 5 minutes from the border and I could still enjoy what Italy had to offer. Françoise wore a dress that revealed her gorgeous  well-turned hips, thighs and calves (which made those descending their yachts a bit dizzy). She looked like a perfect sculpture.

After finishing the delicious pizza, I invited Françoise for a coffee in my room so we could talk better about the nuances of France, it’s snow Alps and caves, rifles, troops, égalité, fraternité and a wild liberté - which we will discover with the next train.