Ladies and Gentlemen, please raise your espressos, you have officially achieved peak Poolia: an infinity pool overlooking your villa's lemon orchard whilst the staff lay out the breakfast spread on the patio. It's all downhill from here team, an old town beckons.
Wait what? No old town? A hip beach club on the Adriatic instead? Things are looking up.
We'll call that the Aperol glow.
The inevitable has been delayed as long as humanly possible. To the old town!
We seem to have arrived by the peasant entrance.
Those Italian drivers!
A drive thru zoo? Was I supposed to bring an F-150 with double Big Gulp holders or something?
Dad, did you really name me after a budget airline? What was wrong with Polaris Lexington Cahan?
The Man. The Legend. The Seats That Don't Turn Into Beds.
If you're going to enjoy divine flavors this food hall seems like a plausible place.
London's new Coal Yards district behind Kings Cross Station. Look what you started Williamsburg.
Careful, that hipster French fusion place over there serves escargot.
It's amazing what a new town will do for you after a week schlepping through old ones.
Dad, it's not too late to change my name.
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