Actually today's port of call is not actually Portofino, but Santa Margherita Ligure, just up the peninsula. After a short trip around them town, we headed off up into the national park and followed one of the many paths around the area, past olive groves, vines, even an old water-mill which was only recently decommissioned, until we dropped down into the beautiful port of Portofino. The first three cards we saw were Ferrari, Porsche and Mercedes, thus setting the scene for this astonishing little port.
Here lies the most idyllic setting it's possible to imagine (well, if one ignores the droves of tourists) all set around a bijou harbour, fabulous yatchs berthed and at anchor, super-fancy water-side restaurants and bars, and a pathway up to a small castle on the headland with views looking back to the harbour as well as in every other direction.
After we'd climbed the castle we decided that was quite enough steps for one day, so took the coastal road back, which, apart from the traffic, is very pretty, passing countless villas and more modest houses in astonishing positions clutching the hill-side. At times the road was very narrow but a boardwalk has been added overhanging the cliff-edge to spectacular effect, at others it became a game of wits against the traffic in both directions. After a while we noticed there was little heading into Portofino, and later we discovered that the police had stopped all inbound traffic except the limos ferrying people to the fancy Eight Hotel - presumably once the tiny car-park is full there's no more room so no point people just driving there unable to stop.
On our return north we passed Paraggi, another small beach village, with fancy champagne bars and restaurants right on the beach, after which we started to return to our tender port Santa Margherita Ligure. After 10.5 miles we decided we'd had enough and headed back to grab a little lunch before the grill closed, and then spent a very lazy afternoon in the pool chatting to some of the lovely ladies we've met so far this cruise. At 17:00 the band struck up to play sail away music, the only problem was within minutes the Captain announced that we were delayed, so not going anywhere, but the band played on anyway. By 18:00 we'd just started moving, but as we couldn't visit deck five aft at that time, we decided to go to our personal jacuzzi (well, it nearly is!) on six forward, and took an enjoyable soak as we watched the shoreline disappear.
Whilst getting showered then changed for dinner, disaster struck! OK I know that sounds very hysterical, but personally it feels like it at present. I was belying across our living room not watching where I was going and kicked the sofa leg bloody hard. There was sufficient swearing for a navvy, an awful lot of blood and some involuntary dancing on one foot (the other one, obviously.) Now I probably have a broken toe. Strapped up as best as I could, it's hurting 'quite a lot' (read that a teeny bit stronger) and we will have to see what happens next. I know that any of our dancers reading this will just say 'so what, get on with it' but you have to remember I'm a big puff, I don't like pain, I don't have your stamina or strength! Champagne and caviar was quickly ordered to distract me!!
Anyway strapped up, we headed off to MDR for a lovely dinner, where once again I had the incredibly pink pork from Thomas Keller, not everyone's cup of tea I'm sure!
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