Imagine a Medieval town overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, like a fantasy setting for the “Game of Thrones,” except brighter and lighter, with less blood. Imagine five of these towns, and you have Cinque Terre, Italy.
That’s what it’s called. Grand, indeed. I can’t think of a better way to end our Covid-induced international travel drought. Mountains, lakes, trains, and some of the fattest cows I’ve ever seen.
After three and half days of rocky coastline, avant-garde sculpture, and oysters it was time to head south for vineyards, bizarre undergraduate rituals, and some of the best pastries I’ve ever eaten.
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In 1969 I bought a new Volvo, picked it up at the factory in Gothenburg, Sweden and drove it around for a few weeks before returning it to be shipped home. That trip and that car changed my life.
Not from falling in the water, though I came close leaning out of the boat to take photos on our tour of the canals.
Bucolic. Picturesque. Charming. Three of the most overused clichés in travel writing. What can I say? I’ve been few places where these clichés are more appropriate.
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What’s special about Sarajevo can’t be captured by photos. I spent more time observing, conversing, and reflecting on Sarajevo’s past, present and future than I did taking photos. Sarajevo touched me more than any other destination I visited on this trip.
After three days in Dubrovnik we split for Split. (Sorry, its either alliterations or puns. Take your pick.)
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The polished marble streets and limestone walls of Dubrovnik’s old city sparkle in the sunshine. But the best way to view them is from atop the walls that circle the city and from Lokrum Island just a short boat ride away.
Zany? Maybe not, but I couldn’t resist another alliteration. It could have been worse. How about Zarathustrian Zagreb? I have no idea what that means. I just like the sound of it.
