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After several more hours on the expensive toll roads we start to climb up into the hills behind San Remo on the Italian side of the French boarder along a very narrow, very windy road…scary. Our little apartment is typical of the others, a little maze of rooms with rounded ceilings and white washed walls. I had to do a little housekeeping at first. I think when Nonna fell off the perch the relatives just decided to rent it ou; the drawers are full of Nonna’s best linen and some old clothes as well. The plastic Madonna’s are safely packed away, off came the plastic tablecloth, out went bags of plastic bags and old cardboard and the place is now nice and cozy.
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