While living in Malta, I was lucky enough to see much of Italy. During down time and in between assignments, my classmates and I frequented RyanAir.com in search of last minute deals. It was so tempting: €30 and a hour and twenty-minute flight, and you’re there. Driving from San Diego to Los Angeles took more effort.
I got to revisit Venice and Rome. I visited the most quaint little city of Verona. I hiked from town to town of Cinque Terre (my favorite place in the world, thus far). I got my breath stolen away by Il Di Duomo in Milano. And there, I wandered the streets and store fronts, in complete awe of the most significant fashion capitals of the world. I even passed a woman riding her bike in stilettos during Fashion Week. (Dream. Come. True.) I rode a train from Bologna of northern Italy through the Swiss Alps, through Austria, to Germany. All of these experiences were absolutely amazing (and each deserve a Wanderlust Wednesday post of their own. Stay tuned.)
So when I bring up the small port town of Bari among the Italian cities I love, especially to Europeans and Italians, the reaction is the same. “Really?”
When my girlfriends and I scheduled our Winter Intercession Euro trip, among such booked destinations as Prague and the south of France, Bari was just a pit stop. It was merely chosen because it took us where we wanted to go from Malta. We were to spend just one night there. Little did we know that the one night and day spent in Bari would be one of the most memorable of all.
What a crazy adventure it turned out to be.