"Bravo!" the busker roars.
Watching my silver euro sail
Through the air into his basket.
As we descend the mountain into the village of Vernazza, we hear the sounds of music -- the sort your feet immediately want to dance to. The musician soon comes into view -- a big fellow with black hair like a pirate and a mischievous dark blue eye, a keyboard organ balanced on his swashbuckling knee. Caught up in the moment, I reach into my pocket and pull out a silver euro and throw it from many metres away up into the air, looping finally, amazingly into his basket. He roars approval. It's one of those moments in time, or out of time more like -- the sun sparkling off the spinning coin, his glinting watchful blue eye, the gypsy music -- and the throw that shouldn't have been possible.