Strips of terraced housing layered into the steep hillside with cave cellars hewn out of the rock give little space for gardens.
Ms Tagalong spies pots stuffed with geraniums, mint and tomato seedlings on the numerous steps she has to climb. Mmm ripened-on-the-vine tomatoes to go with the firm, pear-shaped local cacciocavello cheese, cured in a cave hung from the beams for 6/7 months in 90% humidity at around 13 degrees.
Sitting on the balcony she looks with wonder at the allotments tumbling down the opposite hill. Keen for a closer look she and Mr Ideasman took a wander and spied wild borage, olive trees and lettuces. Too early in the year for much else. Ms Tagalong spent a few minutes looking at the chooks. They clucked around the stony ground guarded by sleepy dogs curled neatly on top of their kennels. Just imagine Snowy doing the guarding!
Walking back to town an elderly gardener paused as he harvested some early artichokes, purple and crisp in their freshness.
'Bellisima', said Ms Tagalong. Pretty much the extent of her Italian (hopefully he didn't think she was referring to him) she gesticulated wildly at the camera. He nodded and grinned. Ah, Italian gardeners.