“But not before dinner,” added Giorgio, holding up a finger.

“Dinner?”

“Of course,” said Giorgio. “It’s Sunday.You must stay for dinner. No questions. D’accordo?”

Carter could hardly refuse.

“D’accordo,” he said, nodding his head in agreement.

To pass the time before dinner, Carter went for a little walk around town with Giorgio. As small a place as it was, everybody knew everybody in Castelalto, and Giorgio said “Buon giorno!” to virtually everyone they passed.The children scampering through the alleys. The old ladies in the doorways. The other men out for a Sunday stroll before dinner.

As they ambled along, Giorgio put a hand on Carter’s shoulder and renewed his invitation for him to stay a little longer in Castelalto.

“Carter,” he told him, “you really must stay with us for a day or two more. Tomorrow I have to work, but the day after I can take off so that we can all take a little ride and show you the area. I think you would enjoy it.”

Carter was still not sure of exactly what his plans should be for the remainder of his trip. Part of him was enjoying his stay there, but another part was ready to go home. Given his indecision in this matter, he responded with a noncommital nod and shrug.

Eventually the two wound their way past the little piazza. It was a bright, sunny day, the sky over the valley so blue that Carter thought he could almost reach out and touch it. He was enjoying the view for a minute when Giorgio tugged on his shirt to get him out of the way of a line of cyclists coming up the road.

“Sta attento,” said Giorgio. “Be careful.Those guys would rather run you over than slow down.”

The line of cyclists, perhaps thirty strong, crested the hill and pedaled across the piazza at a brisk clip, before exiting through the opposite side of the village and beginning the descent back down to the main road. A few moments later, a pair of stragglers appeared at the top of the hill and rolled across the piazza at a more leisurely pace.As they passed, Carter noticed that they were older men. Judging by their voices and the gestures of their hands, the two were more interested in conversing than keeping up with the others. They nodded hello as they went by, and contentedly pedaled off, gabbing away the whole time.

“I take it cycling is popular in this country,” said Carter.

“Oh yes, people love to ride their bikes here,” said Giorgio with a nod. “Cycling is a great sport. But of course, not as good as soccer!”