Bar 22

It’s not open every night, but when it is, it’s packed. Bar 22 sits off a cobbled stone street in a small fishing town along a tidal river on the west coast of Europe.

Tables set casually along the sidewalk fill each day as the sun slowly sets on the hill across town, the crowd a mix of locals and travelers from anywhere you might imagine.

I never took a seat here during the days I was there and that’s not like me. It always felt like the better place was across the street well after the light had faded and the crowd had thinned to the truly lonely.