My wife, Gwynne, and I haven’t been to Italy in 40 years, since we traveled as college kids in one of those super-cheap travel adventures where you drive around Europe in a bus with a bunch of other college kids; the kind of thing you can only do when you have the resiliency and innocence of youth. That time we saw all the touristy things, this time we only visited the East coastal town of Bari because that’s where the cruise ship we’re going on is leaving from.
We got an AirBnB down by the port; a crappy place that should be thankful I don’t write reviews, so Gwynne didn’t get any sleep for 36 hours and was a little melancholy. Her impression of Bari was, “people stay up late, are loud, and have loud cars.” While we were walking along the beach, I did most of the talking; I observed that Bari had an interesting Old World dynamism that we don’t have at home, and I felt an odd sense of loss. I told her that I thought moving to Texas for awhile might be the cure. I thought that might get a rise out of her but she didn’t even respond.
Bari, Italy
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Bari, Italy
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