Poolia Part 2: No Time to Cry

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is... wait, wrong spy movie.

The hilltop town of Matera was, until it featured on this blog, most famous for starring in the opening scene of "No Time to Die."  You know the one, where Daniel Craig in his final outing as Bond tears down the ancient cobblestone roads in a classic DB5 Aston Martin.

You'd drive like that too if you saw who was incoming.

I like my freshly squeezed orange juice shaken, not stirred.

Puglia, the region that make up the heel of Italy's boot, is known for its simple, rustic fare. Ryan is known for eating simple, rustic fare.

Once the day-tripper tour buses have rolled out the town magically reverts back to centuries past. A quiet square, cheery light spilling out of the welcoming door of a trattoria, a friendly stray cat purring at the fountain.

Not a bad place to celebrate 41 trips around the sun. Come on United, that's gotta be worth at least Premier Gold?

Peak heat. Which means while the sensible locals seek refuge in their nifty cave houses the tourists come out to drag their whining kids to the nearest gelato shop.

Dad, you said gelato not photos.

The whole town was originally a collection of intricate cave dwellings, carved right into the cliffs. A family and their livestock would live in one cave. Dad, what's the monthly maintenance expense on this classic pre-war studio? I see some potential, who doesn't want a cave house for TikTok?

The most important question: can you get wifi in caves?

It's like Coruscant son, they build the newer layers on top of the old ones.

Aren't you a little small for an influencer?

When you see a sign that's in Italian and Google loosely translates it as "only a complete and utter idiot who cares more about their Instragram than their life would attempt this hike in the middle of the day" what do you do? 

Is that even a question?

If you want to get the likes you gotta do the hikes? Oh fine, who are we kidding, you just have to pose provocatively in skimpy athleisurewear.

Earned his siesta and coke the hard way. Actually, escaping the kids for an hour in the blazing heat counts as the easy way.

Ana de Armas sighting?

When one of those bells rings I assume it's pizza time?

Happy birthday to me. Oh and that other guy too.

Poolia Part 1: We'll Never Be Royals (Royals)

There's a new King in town, which means it's time to pay our respects. Before we can get on to the main destination - Puglia, the heel of Italy's boot - it's time to polish the actual boots and show His Majesty that in the Commonwealth we still know who sells our tabloids.

Ah for the innocence of youth, actually wanting to rush onto a United plane...

"… And we'll never be royals (royals). It don't run in our blood. That kind of luxe just ain't for us."  

But gosh darn it, we'll give it a shot.

It's amazing what a flying bed and unlimited screen time can do for one's mood.

The Princess Diana of Wales Memorial Playground. Hang on, why did they make a playground about a Netflix show?

Your Majesty, I come bearing gifts from your humble subjects Down Under. We would never chuck your tea overboard like those ungrateful whiners across the pond, we'd pair it with a scone and get on with it. 

Dad, is this one of those flip phones you said you used to have?

BuckinghamBNB.

Everyone can live like a king when you snag the front row of a Deka Deka.

Nothing they have in the torture chamber will come close to dragging two kids around on the Tube.

I guess this is what Arendelle will look like after global warming.

I told you there'd be a dragon! This is castle is it not?

"Oh (oh, oh). We're bigger than we ever dreamed. And I'm in love with being queen."

Gentlemen, His Majesty will see you now. In the servant quarters.

Battersea Power Station, powering gentrifiers since 2022.

"Let me be your ruler (ruler). You can call me queen bee. And baby, I'll rule (I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule). Let me live that fantasy."  Ok, sure, whatever. As long as you let me try your ice cream.

Princess Middleton has requested that you do her the honor of presenting yourself at Kensington Palace.

Looks like Uncle Jared heard there was a power station to exploit for profit. Hang on, what do you mean this one drains your capital on artisanal ice cream?

Now that is a right proper pub.

Stirred, not shaken. Or is it the other way around?