Italy was wonderful. The cheese was ooozing, wine was flowing, the ocean was glittering, and everyone everywhere was gesticulating. It was just as I hoped it would be. America feels so big and overly clean by comparison.
And the wedding was truly an Italian affair. The bride and two her sisters arrived in a bright blue vespa cart that zipped them up the winding cliffside road to the ceremony site which was perched in a sunlight-dappled olive tree grove with a breathtakingly sweeping view of the Mediterranean (very) far below.
The day after the wedding was just as spectacular, the celebration lived on as the town of Recco launched it's annual 20 hour long explosion extravaganza culminating in three massive, gorgeously glittering fireworks displays after dark which we watched from atop a cliff overlooking the town in the middle of a severe thunderstorm. It was unforgettable. The wind and rain coming from every direction, the light and the noise of the fireworks blooming around us on our perch high on the mountain, and the newlyweds laughing in the rain, their new rings glinting in the light of the explosions.
Coming back to the hustle and bustle of New York mid-fashion week was a shock to the system after this trip. I still can hear the fireworks and taste the gelato!