While I found the hostel staff rather formal, the guests were full of warmth. Returning to the dorm I met my roommates, which included a mother and her teenage daughter, as well as a woman, Kim, the same age as myself, all from the United States.

As always in these situations, there was lots to talk about. We compared notes: where we were going, where we had been, what mishaps had befallen us along the way, what treasures we had discovered.

The Best Mattress in All of Italy
Like everything else in the hostel, the bunk beds seemed as if they had just come out of a box, and mattresses were thick, level and firm. There were also little built-in reading lights at the head of every bunk.

In the lobby we converged with a group from the men's dorms, and all decided to go to dinner together.

We tromped down the hill, a merry, hungry bunch, and descended en mass on the little restaurant on the corner. The tables, dressed in their white cloths and gleaming silverware with cloth napkins standing at attention, were surrounded by empty chairs. We won't have any problem getting served here, we thought, but we were wrong.

It was only 6:30, and the panicked waiter did his best to explain that dinner service did not begin until 7:30. Some in our party grumbled, and couldn't see the sense in their refusal to serve us. Disappointed, and feeling our hunger more keenly than before, we caucused.

Someone in the group knew of another restaurant, so we set off in search of it. At least it would give us something to do to pass the time until dinner. The search led back up the hill, past the hostel, through an area of very narrow winding streets.

Without too much difficulty we actually found the place, and descending a long, steep set of steps, arrived at an idyllic patio overlooking the bay, as just as the sun was setting.

The waiters moved the furniture together to form one great long table outside, we laughed and feasted and drove our poor waiter crazy with requests for 13 separate checks.

Next: Holy Wake-Ups & Hot Water