theatre of the absurd: plane

Fine dining!

Capitolium

I went off to Zara and HM to do some shopping, and ended up getting a nice new blouse from Zara. I know, I know - going to France and ending up in Zara - but I did have a look at almost all the shops in the Capitole area, including some ridiculously expensive Parisian brands that I most certainly could not afford (350 euro for a dress, really?) and all I really needed was a new blouse as I'd accidentally ruined my old one, so Zara it was.

After that I went to Le Bibent, which was pretty highly rated on Tripadvisor and was a Michelin starred restaurant. It was full of Asian tourists, most of them either couples on their honeymoon or elderly businessmen, and I felt like just another Asian tourist as I walked in. I guess one day I will be tired of this lifestyle, but for now, it'll do.

The food was really good and the prices weren't as high as I was expecting, but I think I still prefer Evangelina. Vastly so, in fact.

After that, I walked around the city some more, not thinking about anything in particular, and then it was back to the hotel, where I watched some football matches - this is not by design, but for the two most recent World Cups, I have always been on the continent.

Next day I got up pretty early to catch my Ouibus to Biarritz, where I had a flight back to Dublin. I've never taken Ouibus before, but it proved to be a most enjoyable ride. I approve.

Hostel breakfast, which cost 5 euros. I didn't buy, but it was nice to look at

Off to Biarritz

There's not much else to say about this trip. Maybe I'm too old and jaded now to have very much to say per se (that rhymes), but it did what it was supposed to do - I had loads of remarkably good food and got to spoil myself a bit, had a change of scenery, and gave myself a bit of a break, and atop of all that the weather was quite nice. What's not to like?

A self-serving coffee machine

I'm not sure where my next holiday will be but I would like to see the Balkans again.

And what I want, I usually get.

Nothing can ever compare to that initial moment when I first saw the peninsula of Italy stretch out below me; I leaned into the window and sighed with happiness as I gazed over the green isle of Italia, and the pristine blue sea that was the Adriatic. For the first time in my life, I would be able to properly visit the heart of the Roman Empire. I did have a couple of layovers at the Leonardo da Vinci airport when I was little, but spending a few hours in a capital city's airport does not a visit make. For all intents and purposes, I was here in Italy on my own terms for the very first time.

I disembarked from the plane and was extremely relieved to get off - my seat had been amidst a crowd of rowdy, ill-mannered Italian children, and you can only imagine what a joy that was. However, I was determined not to let them ruin my trip. The minute I got off the plane, the first thing I noticed was how much warmer it was here in Italy. I immediately took off my sweater, and stuck it in my bag, then went off to buy my bus ticket. It's slightly cheaper to get bus tickets beforehand, rather than directly from the bus driver. The bus station was easy to find, and the bus arrived immediately. I handed my ticket to the bus driver, and sauntered aboard and sat down, feeling very pleased with myself. These small victories on the road really do mean something - they're probably insignificant in the grander scheme of things, but there's something immensely satisfying about finding the ticket booth, buying the right ticket, easily locating the bus stop and then getting on the right bus to the right destination without a single hitch. Whilst I was busy mentally patting myself on the back, I watched another backpacker, a Canadian woman either in her very late twenties or early thirties (she had that beaten-leather look about her) board the bus with a backpack the size of Brazil, and attempt to pay the driver with an unbroken hundred note, which was cringe-inducing. I was also genuinely puzzled - the woman looked like a seasoned traveller, how could she not know that one of the first things about travelling is that you do not pay bus drivers in big bills? The airport was 10 seconds walk away - she could have broken her 100 there. Anyway, the bus driver displayed a remarkable amount of patience and self-restraint with her whilst she fussed and sighed and whinged and patted down her harem trousers to see if she had any spare change. She did eventually manage to come up with some coins, which were slightly short of what she owed the bus driver, but he took what she had with a sigh of resignation and waved her on. (And no, she was not particularly attractive.)

Bari airport

A train shuttle to the city centre was also provided, which was faster and more convenient but also more expensive

My bus to Bari city centre!

The bus ride to Bari city centre, or to be more precise Bari train station, was about 50 minutes give or take. Apart from the Canadian woman, the only passengers were three Italians, who looked slightly younger than me, two women and a man. All of them were petite and brunette, and rather well dressed, and wore horn-rimmed glasses. The women were not particularly beautiful, but had an air of open pleasantness about them that was quite nice. All three of them had iphones, which was one of the first things I noticed - in Romania I did not see a single iphone - most of the people there used Samsung.

I arrived at the train station, and checked my GPS, and followed it to the seaside, which was where the Old Town was located. All in all, I didn't care much for Bari - it was the only Italian city which I felt a strong aversion to. It felt like a ghost town, and reminded me far too strongly of Cittàgazze in His Dark Materials, the deserted, soulless city in which spectres would feed upon the souls of adults:

Cittàgazze is a seaside town, reminiscent of those near the Mediterranean. Hills surround the city which has wide, cobbled roads and is filled with ancient architecture. It is full of hotels and smaller somewhat shabby cafes, one of which was on a promenade full of palm trees. (source)

An accurate description of Bari if ever there was one. I spent most of my time in seaside towns in the Adriatics, and many of them fitted this description, but none of them felt as chillingly desolate as Bari. I do not plan on returning there ever again, unless I must.