“The epiphany was served cold with that final smiley-faced cappuccino. A little teaser of a true connection; A touch of local life during my short visit.”
If I’m honest, I was drunk. The Chianti had gone to my head and the already glowing evening had taken on an ethereal quality, framed by a heavy Photoshop vignette.
Florence’s famous Medici family constructed an entire network of secret passages across the city to connect them to their residences, work and places of worship. Many take the form of tiny bridges that span narrow streets; barely noticeable at first glance.
From the 1620s Italy has attracted and rewarded the inquisitive. The Grand Tour, as it later became known, saw British youngsters of the upper classes travelling slowly into southern Italy from London. They often encountered treacherous alpine passes, terrible weather and disease on route.
Through the narrow windows of the cathedral’s bell tower, the landscape was split in two. Dazzling blue sky sliced across layers of terracotta rooftops and behind them, lay the Adriatic Sea.
A drizzly day in Vilnius can be deceptive. Rain hits the greys of dilapidated tower blocks and the cobbled streets of the old town are shiny underfoot.