"My next stop is the historic Caffè San Marco, previously a haven to literary giants like James Joyce— who, disillusioned with Dublin, came here and wound up writing the first part of Ulysses—and, at least in my fantasy world, an array of spies. I can see them in their dour, colorless trench coats, taking off their hats at the door, scanning the rooms for hostiles, sitting down for a drink. It’s another grand, handsome place in the Viennese tradition, well preserved but not without its scars. This café has survived many wars but has managed, like Trieste, to reinvent itself while maintaining its identity. It houses an enormous bookstore, and the food—a modernish take on Italian cuisine with a few Austro-Hungarian touches—is much better than I expected."