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About Bari

Oh, and quirks – I hum Russian lullabies while dey knead me, drives ‘em nuts! Exaggerate? Sure, I tell ‘em, “Massage me or I unleash da minions!” Dey laugh, I laugh, we good. Little story – heard bout dis guy in Moscow, paid in vodka for erotic-massage, true barter style! Vild, eh? Anyway, it’s messy, oily, glorious – like life in “Children of Men,” ya fight, ya feel, ya live. “Pull yourself together, Clive!” – dat’s me, post-massage, ready to rule da forest again! Try it, ya won’t regret, ya? Lightbulb!

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Next, I’m walking down Via Garibaldi, and I see this cute little café. I’m craving a cappuccino, so I pop in. The barista, Marco, is a legend. He’s got this mustache that could rival a walrus. I order my drink, and he’s like, “You want it strong or weak?” I’m like, “Dude, I need it to slap me awake!” He laughs and hooks me up. Best cappuccino ever!

1.14 The Kite, in Fontaniva Padua, Italy