Trieste to Aosta, Italy /
Thun, Switzerland

On a trip of this length, energy and enthusiasm are bound to dip. It’s been great to have a few chances to recharge, but at times in the moment, this final stage felt like killing time between seeing more friends. Haphazardly chosen on the fly as convenient places to break long journeys, some of these last few stops were not places I had any familiarity, and as I realised towards the end, it was a unique opportunity not just to see more sides of Italy than the ones I know, but to see and experience places special to people I care about.
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Ljubljana and Piran, Slovenia

After weeks of consecutive heat waves in Sicily, Malta, Tunisia, and even in northern Italy, I was dying for a change. Upon suggestion by multiple friends and a simple glance at the map — mountains! — I made a short detour to Slovenia with no planning beyond simple knowledge of a capital and a lake.

While not much, I did get a few modest degrees of relief from the thermometer. Taking the bus up from coastal Trieste, I also didn’t realise how much I missed seeing green fields, trees, and mountains! And while I actively choose not to seek cultural immersion, having been overwhelmed by a firehose of different histories, languages, and information already from three other countries and only having a few days here, Slovenia made a lovely and distinct impression.
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San Marino /
Bologna to Venice, Italy

Even if I haven’t visited most of northern Italy before, you could say that it’s a known quantity. Everyone knows someone who’s visited or wants to visit. Everyone knows how good the food is. Everyone’s probably learned at least some of the history in school — whether it be about artistic figures, religion, war, the Middle Ages, the Renaissance… Much has been said, and there’s not much for me to add.

I won’t lie, my main interests don’t exactly lie in these things, even if I can enjoy or have appreciation for them. What brings me to this area, and what’s kept me going in spite of peak season crowds and extreme heat, are friends: one who moved back to Italy from Canada, one who happens to be in town, Italian friends from Canada getting married and all our mutual friends in town for that wedding, and one guiding me through her hometown in absentia. Same goes for Switzerland, a detour tacked onto the end to visit some more friends again. That made for a grand but overwhelming time of reunions and highlight after highlight threatening to blur into each other.

Most of those highlights are ones that I think best remain in our memories. But in between, there was some exploring too!
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Tunis to Tataouine, Tunisia

Despite the distance and the historical ties, there doesn’t seem to be much connection between Tunisia and Malta, let alone Sicily. What seems like a logical next stop feels instead like a world away, involving a very short but incredibly expensive flight.

It’s been a very long time since I’ve been in North Africa — a trip to Morocco in 2012 was the last, which left me with decidedly mixed feelings and a hesitation to return. Tunisia seems somewhat similar on the surface: same language (well, the Arabic dialect is different, but everyone speaks French too), religion, cuisine, climate, even some geography. But even on first impression, things diverge from those similarities quickly.
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Malta

I’m not sure what I expected landing in Malta. It’s just a short half hour flight from Catania in Sicily, or a half-day ferry ride. Sicily has tiny islands to its south, even further south than Malta — wouldn’t it make sense if Malta were similarly Italian in character? But it’s also a stone’s throw away from North Africa, and the Maltese language is closely related to Arabic. Wouldn’t it make sense if Malta were an Arabic-speaking Muslim country?

That’s the logic brain talking. Ignoramus brain only knew of Malta as a hedonistic destination for nightlife party-seeking Brits and festival-goers, and a microstate playground for the rich akin to Monaco.

So imagine my surprise that my logic brain wasn’t right at all. Not only that, but my ignoramus knowledge was but a footnote in a stay that provided the kind of genuine surprises that I find increasingly uncommon after so much travel.
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Sicily, Italy

It’s my third day in Palermo (of 11 in Sicily) and I’m puzzled. The sights are famous. The pictures are beautiful. The food is everything you hear about from Sicily. The evening brings the city to life and the crowds come out.

I’ve made my way down the pedestrianized Maqueda, checked out the famous cathedral, the Palatine Chapel with its golden mosaic art, and even made my way up to nearby Monreale for even more mosaics. I’ve walked through the markets. I’ve gotten real-time advice from friends on what food to try — arancini, pasta alla norma, cannoli, granita, brioche col gelato, pani ca meusa (spleen sandwich)… I’ve taken the train to Cefalù and climbed all the way up to the top of La Rocca, then all the way back down again to dive into the azure water sandwiching the town to said rock.

So yeah, I’ve done all the stuff. But something feels…off. The heat is stifling. The jet lag lingers, I’m disengaged, and anxiety keeps me awake even longer at night. The food recommendations may be solid, but the places I’m getting them at aren’t hitting the spot. The crowds are everywhere. All of that can be managed. As I sipped on an overpriced limoncello spritz by the shore, trying to cool off while watching the world go by, seeing neighbourhood residents chatting it up, I suddenly felt an odd sense of enjoyment. It finally dawned on me: as pretty as the pictures were, I was focusing on the wrong stuff.

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