His name was Beppe. His wrinkles represented a lifetime of stories. Stories which sadly, I would never uncover. Chance happened and Beppe was my b & b host in Corniglia, Cinque Terre. Beppe spoke not a word of English, "solo Italiano!" Perfect- I know about five Italian words, this was going to be interesting. My mom and I were thrilled to see his welcoming smile as we were wandering the town aimlessly dragging our suitcases down the cobble stone alleys. It was near impossible to find any address, let alone our address. A deep voice sang out from a window above, it was Beppe. He slowly made his was down the street steps and he hugged me tight and triple-kissed my cheeks. His eyes were warm and his cheeks rosy, yes we were going to like it here. After two quick shots of espresso in Beppe's apartment it was time to explore. I grabbed his hand and gestured that we would like him to join us. We spent the afternoon playing a hilarious game of charades as the language barrier didnt deter our conversation. He took us to his favourite gelato shop, and led us to a pathway with more than 500 stairs leading straight to the sea. He couldn't make the trek but he waited for us at the top.