There are few places as conducive to falling in love—or to having a languorous honeymoon—as Portofino. Portofino: a pastel painting, a pearl. It’s easy to imagine days here devoted to nothing more than aimless strolls and sun-drenched aperitivos, wearing wide-brimmed hats and linen dresses. The little town offers beauty so opulent, it’s difficult to know what to admire first: perhaps the villas painted in ochre, sepia, red, and yellow, “like the bright spines of so many books crammed together onto a bookshelf,” muses author Lucy Foley, “a quiet spectacle.” Walking through Portofino, even the most prosaic scenes move the heart—morning markets are filled with jeweled fruits, and there’s always laundry on the line, hanging in plain sight. As evening sets in, the bay takes on a poignancy, as fisherman return home.