Tworussellstreet and I are well-known - even despised - for our love affair with Italy. He, however, has explored their culture much deeper than I.
Liguria was my first time abroad. I was eleven at the time. I recall fire-flies and peach trees, street markets in which you bartered and being given a sheaf of notes for pocket money. And I remember the bread. So different from Mother's Pride.
I was over forty when I visited Paris for the first time - still a child at heart - alone - wearing a green button-down shirt I imagined made me look like a pasty white Miles Davis. It didn't.
My first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower... being propositioned by a lady in Montmartre (in the middle of the afternoon)... shops selling jazz and soul CDs in quiet back streets... breakfast outside Notre Dame...
Gerona, though, was also beautiful. I went there on the recommendation of another forum member. I ate an excellent meal in the company of a very charming and attractive young woman. Around eleven at night. Toto, I told myself, we're not in England...
So: the point is? Where do you find your particular brand of magic?
Oh, yes, southern Italy - Puglia - was still full of colourful knitwear. Also Dickies - in quite pricey shops. That I do not understand. Sta-prest perhaps but not Dickies. Or am I missing something?
Given the restraints of the last couple of years even a day in Southend would send me off into reverie. There's a good fish restaurant on the front and the pier is fun. See how I have had to lower my horizons a notch? I have to pretend Italy doesn't exist any more, that Covid eliminated all 60 million of them, otherwise I would pine too much. I do love Portugal. In fact all of the Mediterranean is joyful. Cadiz! What a city. That was amazing in many ways.
Last time I was in Italy I saw too many cement factories on that memorable journey between Rome and Venice. The skies had darkened upon leaving Rome and stayed that way the entire journey, thus contradicting a million travel brochures. It poured with rain in Venice but they were all prepared for it in their handsome overcoats, scarves and gloves. Back in England proto-Brexit man was shivering in his three-quarter length Matalan horrors and shiny football shirts. Mind you, a journey in a cramped bus pressed up against a crowd of sweaty Venetian workers brought tears to my eyes and guaranteed I was ready for fresh air and sea-breezes. I'd go back in a trice, though. The Med may be joyful but both Paris and Cannes have too many thoughtless dog-owners!
I am a big fan of Italy and my last visit was to Puglia. Enjoyed the wine, food and olive oil. The owner of the place where we stayed told us that the abundant olive trees were becoming infected and ancient olive groves were being destroyed in the region
Croatia is a good cheaper alternative to Italy
I went to a summer wedding in Leigh on sea a decade ago. The wedding reception was at the Cliffs Pavilion. Standing outside on the terrace, on a balmy August evening, overlooking the Thames, one called almost imagine being abroad (at least when under the influence of quite a few sherbets)
Girona/Gerona I adored. Late supper in the company of a gorgeous girl. Cheap, warm bread from the market. A couple making very noisy love in the next room while I reread 'Portnoy's Complaint' and contemplated my future back in England. The eerie feeling around a church that looked as it might have taken a battering in the Civil War.
Did not care much for Barcelona. No whining English voices in Girona, but plenty at the waterfront and at the airport.
Anyone dig Piaf? 'Autumn Leaves'. Also given a whirl by Cannonball Addereley?