An airport that made me appreciate the compulsively organized, one flight, two trains and a curvy car ride later we arrived in Ravello. Ravello is a small town perched on top of a coastal mountain range in the Amalfi Coast of Italy. Ravello has amazing views but due to the amount of time and nausea it takes to get down from Ravello to the other towns along the coast, most people go up for a day and stay in Positano or Amalfi leaving the rest of us perched dwellers with peace and quiet. I say, “us” like I’m a local, furious at the blimey tourists for ruining my vibes because this is actually how I feel when I travel - all the other tourists are mere peasants infringing on my experience of a new place, but we can discuss my narcissism later.
Italy, as you can assume was full of lemoncillo, red wine and carbohydrates. I do not discriminate against carbs, obviously since I’m learning how to make sourdough bread, but this was carbs to a whole new level. Trever and I had food coma every night, it’s like we were drunk off carbs and couldn’t keep our eyes open while we stumbled down 500 cobblestone steps and crash landed in our beds. Our bed could have been compared to a large brick in its comfort, and the pillows were so dense they probably weighed 12 pounds and were devoid of any real cushion, but when you’re carb drunk it doesn’t really matter. Stuck in the cycle of addiction as we were, we awoke hangover free and ready for a pastry with our coffee. This is apparently all I have to say about Italy - carbohydrates.
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