Red Fiats in the Streets of Tropea

We've had a mammoth drive today. We reckon a page in the road atlas is about a hundred kilometres and we've driven several pages today. We have come right down the top of the foot of Italy , and have ended up at the first metatarso-phalangeal joint , where many people my age, including myself get a bunion. We are at the point where it gets red and throbby if I try to wear elegant shoes. ( This whole leg metaphor is quite handy)
The town is called Tropea, and is obviously a popular spot with tourists. We decided to take the ordinary coast road rather than motorway which was good but it took hours longer than it needed to. For one thing we got to a bit of road which was in such poor repair it had been closed so we had to  retrace back past a cafe we had stopped at an hour before for a tiny thimbleful of exquisitely delicious coffee. I don't know how they do it but Italian coffee is the best.
Once we got here we parked up and headed straight for the town for a delicious meal including the local Nduja  sausage , and fish which had jumped straight out of the sea nearby( I like to think) . 
We are now in poll position for a ferry to Sicily tomorrow. Looking forward to that.