Italy - Fri August 4

Friday August 4th

As if we hadn't gone far enough yesterday, today we thought we would get full value out of our rental car and go even further. How about the beautiful Cinque Terre (five lands). Sure, sounds good. So we hopped into the car reasonably early for us, although still after lunch, and headed for La Spezia. It was a gorgeous day, the sky was clear and the temperature was hot. I was navigating, and thankfully the road to La Spezia is so easy. Once you're on the autostrade, you can go straight there, follow signs for La Spezia and you can't go wrong. So I thought. I have a thing about travelling where after about half an hour of it my eyelids become very heavy. This journey was no exception and as we were on the right road, i put down my article on Bob Dylan's new album and rest my head against the window to the sound of the ground below and the air rushing by outside. My beauty sleep was interrupted when dad asked me which road to take. What a silly question I thought, the autostrade goes straight there. I tried to be asleep and not answer, only when i opened my eyes we were headed instead towards Viareggio. Perhaps it wasn't so straightforward.

We managed to find the autostrade again and head towards the nature park. We eventually arrived in the crowded, bustling seaside port of La Spezia. Turns out there aren't enough spaces for the number of cars but we eventually find a car park, only to be told by a policeman that our car will be towed away if we leave it there. There's a demonstration later on tonight, so we move it, and get the train to Monterosso.

The Cinque Terre are five villages built at the bottom of cliffs by the sea. Originally they were only accessible by boat, but eventually they tunneled through a train track to link all five. We step out at the station of the furthest land, Monterosso. The scene is spectacular. The sea is sooo blue, reflecting the sky above. The temperature is blissfully warm and the sound of the water lapping onto the sand is mesmerising. We walked around a bit and then took the train to the next village, Vernazza for a swim. Vernazza is probably the most beautiful town, the houses are painted in such bright colours and the road leads down to a sheltered little harbour. There Heather and I found a rock, not too secluded, peeled off into our swimwhere and jumped into the warm sea. All the salt made the water so boyant that swimming was efortless. As one of the waves came in, it knocked heather off her balance and she scraped her leg on a sharp rock. We dried ourselves off and after a coffee and a little more sun, headed home.

It was late by the time we approached Lucca, after midnight. We went back to the restaurant we were at on sunday and wednesday. It it ain't broke...
I love spaghetti, but i also love eating new things, so i looked down the italian menu and spied a spaghetti i hadn't heard of before. I ordered it and awaited the results. What came back was a cross between spaghetti and a rock-pool. There was a little bit of spaghetti wrapped around cockles and mussels and clams and octopus. My father is allergic to sea-food, so it's not something I had at home. Nevertheless, I attacked the shells to find the tasty moresels inside. Everything tasted a bit of seawater, added to that I was still covered in salt from swimming in the sea. We returned home tired, with heather in search of some TCP (her cure-all) to put on her wounds.

italy: Thursday 3rd August 2006

A year forward from this date and we will be getting married!

We thought we should go and see some sights, as it was a Thursday after all. Originally Florence was on the cards, then Assisi, but once we had a look on a map it looked like a 4 hour drive, so we settled on the wonderful medieval town of Siena, about an hour south of Florence, so about 2 hours from us. The weather had other ideas. We were all set to go when a storm came rumbling down the valley. Rain drops the size of basketballs (at least in my memory) hurtled towards the house, exploding on impact. The fog drew near, at one point we couldn't even see our neighbours down the road.

But all storms must pass. And this one did, but the rain hung around. Undeterred we headed down the autostrade for Siena. A note to future travellers, August isn't a great time to visit Siena. As its reputation grows on the tourist trail, the visitors surge especially for this month and while they do provide quite a lot of parking, it fills up fast. We hovered around a car park in the rain waiting for someone to leave so we could take their place. After a while, and a tight squeeze we got out, put on our hats and headed into the walled city.



Thankfully the rain stopped on our arrival. We headed for il campo, the memorable heart of Siena, a piazza where the Palio, a horse race between city teams, is held twice a year. I've been to Siena a few times, but on every occasion I emerge from the narrow street, down the steps into Il Campo I feel a sense of wonder at the size of the natural amphitheatre and the scale of the palace at the other side.



We replenished ourselves with some pizza in a bustling cafe and dad nestled down with Mitchener to let Heather and I tire ourselves out by running around to see the sights. Our first stop was to climb all 102m of the tower of the Palazzo Publico. We bought our tickets, handed in our bags and huffed and puffed our way to the top. The view from the top was breathtaking. 'You all look like ants from up here' heather exclaimed. It's not a good place to be claustrophobic, and thankfully neither of us are, but the final sets of stairs to the top are pretty tiny. The wind cooled us down and we tried to pick out the figure of dad engrossed in a book.



From there we went to the zebra-striped duomo. It's a huge cathedral, and was set to be the biggest in the world. The started building a giant nave, to rival the basillica in Rome, only just like the Wembley stadium, they went over-budget and ran out of money. So there is a half completed bit of church lying there. Inside, the cathedral is beautiful. Every inch is decorated. The highlight for me is the library, with ornate frescoes by Piccolomini. They depict the life of Pope Pius II. By the time we had marvelled at the marble floor and the paintings it was time to leave and meet dad.



We headed home and stopped in a local pizzeria in Ponte a Moriano. Here we were greated by a large smiling woman like an Asterix character. I went for the meatiest pizza I could find and added extra sausage, for what was a delight to weary travellers. Dad had pasta and then some pork, and heather had an onion and sausage pizza. We even managed some homemade ice cream with forest fruits afterwards. Sleepy, happy and replenished we slinked home to bed.

Wednesday 2nd August in the travel diary

Wed 2nd August

I have far and away the most uncomfortable bed in the house. It sags in the middle, and is in the hottest part of the house. Consequently, I didn't sleep all that well, especially when a fly decided that I looked like a perfect landing zone. In the panic off hearing a buzz next to my ear I managed to hit myself in the face. All in a good night.

We had an item on the agenda for today. We were to meet Graham and Linda Pratley, old university pals of mum and dad. They were in the area and we arragned to rendevouz at the Tourist office in Lucca at 6pm.

Wednesday is market day in Lucca, and if you want cheap tablecloths or flip flops then it is a must. We actually had a mission at the market. Heather, for fear of losing her engagement ring, had left it behind. Hence she wanted a cheap replacement. We drove into Lucca and walked into the centre where we asked passers by, 'Dove il mercato?' A kindly italian took pity on three tourists puzzling over a map and asked 'where do you want to go?' 'To the market we answered', like cinderella to the fairy god-mother. 'Then to the market you shall' he almost replied, he led us half the way and chatted to dad about the economic rise and fall of Lucca.

When we arrived outside the stadium we found a string of white vans and vivacious sellers. Eventually Heather spotted the ring she had always wanted. An enormous 1.5 carat diamond, on a platinum setting. At €5 it was a steal. At least, it would have been had it not been made from plastic. Still we bought it, I proposed again and thankfully Heather accepted again. Dad texted mum to arrange for imports of lemon-patterned table cloths and we bought the most wonderful hog-roast paninis.

After a light lunch we were able to relax, read our books (I'm reading a particuarly interesting one about the remaining men that walked on the moon, called Moon Dust by Andrew Smith, and Heather was reading the enormous 'The Count of Monte Cristo. Dad was reading a new book by James Mitchiner, like he does every holiday, called Chesapeake. Normally we all become very familiar with whatever Dad is reading. Just mention 1421...) and snooze.

Soon we headed into Lucca to meet Graham and Linda. By now we know that it takes 20 mins from the house to Lucca, so we set off in time and arrived at 5.50. Dad made an executive decision that he was tired of parking outside the city walls and determined to find a space inside the walls by the tourist office itself. Ignoring my dissent, we drove into the city, and circled around the small car park looking for a non-existent space. After a few laps Dad conceded that there were none and we would have to wait and see if any would appear. In the meantime he stopped the car outside the tourist office. There he looked for a friendly space. 'Well I never,' he started, 'I'm almost sure he was at Trinity with us' Dad continued. He gave a polite honk of the horn. The character didn't respond so dad lept out of the car to meet his long lost friend. I marvelled at dad's ability to place an old friend purely by the back of his head. I voiced the opinon that perhaps it was not a trinity pal but a tourist in italy. Of course my idea was nonsense.

Dad returned to our illegally abandoned car. 'A case of mistaken identity I think' he said non-fussed. How remarkable. After a little more procrastination we bit the bullet and parked out of town to walk in. It's now 6.10 and there is no sign of the Pratleys. We wait a little longer, and then some. To make use of the time Heather and I decide to hire a tandem and cycle the walls. We arrange a meeting place in the ampiteatro and dad sends text messages to Graham and Lindi via mum at home.

A large brusque woman accepts my student card as identification and parts with a tandem. Heather graciously encourages me to sit at the front, probably so she won't have to pedal. We had a marvelous time, eventually working out how to start and not fall off, before long we were overtaking and undertaking the traffic on top of the city walls. Once we had done a couple of laps we ventured onto the saddle-sore inducing cobble streets of Lucca to weave our way through pedestrians with the jolly whistle of our bell.

Exhausted, we headed to our meeting place. Predicatably everyone else was nowhere to be seen. We got some ice cold drinks and waited in the beautiful ampiteatro. Eventually dad and the Pratleys arrived, and we went to our comfortable, familiar restaurant by the gates of the city. Turns out that there are two tourist offices in Lucca. Both at opposite ends. They were getting frustrated waiting at one, and us at the other.

We had a great time at the restaurant. Heather ordered the wonderful gnocchi from the other night, I tried another gnocchi recipe, dad and graham had spaghetti carbonara and Linda a sea food salad for the prima piatti. For the secondo piatti I had the pork steak, Graham had a bulging plate full of cockles and mussels (alive alive oh), Heather a the pork and dad tried some veal. It was a lot of fun, Linda recounted stories of my mother as a student, Graham advised me on equity and trust law and Heather picked up some tips on beginning work as a teacher. We even had this photo taken by a swede.

more italian adventures

and so it continues

Monday 31 July

The first weekday arrives and we are still without milk or water. Dry cereal for breakfast is becoming tedious. Surely the supermarkets are open now? After a leisurely morning we check with our landlady next door who tells us that they open after mid day. How do they ever do any business when they're shut all the time? The afternoon heat rises and we drive down the hills to find Esselunga open. The relief is palpable. Like kids in a sweetshop we run into the airconditioned store and pick up watermelons, olives (for Heather), ice cream and other delights.

Back at the house we struggle to bring out 12 bottles of water up the steps. To our delight the 'mama' next door, who loves to cook, has decided that she will make us spaghetti for tea. Fantastic. Spaghetti is my favourite food, and the real thing, made by mama from Bologna is too good to turn down. Heather and I hit the pool again and before long mama calls round with pasta and a bottle of home made wine from the grapes at the bottom of the garden. It was great, not too much sauce, all mixed in with the pasta, large chunks of grated parmesan melting in with the olive oil-covered pasta, and little bits of bacon throughout with a few basil leaves for good measure. The wine, while not exactly vintage, added to the rustic feel of home made spag-bol and golden evening sunlight. We took some ice cream around next door to socialise with our neighbours, drink grappa and fend off an enormous, enthusiastic great dame.

Tue 1 August

We didn't go anywhere yesterday and having lunch supplies safely in the fridge felt it was high-time we ventured out of the local area. In the summer of 2000, hungry and late at night, ten weary travellers stumbled into a restaurant in Gallicano called Elissio's for what was quite possibly the best meal of my life. Elissio has no menu, you eat what he cooks, but that's not a problem as he only cooks great food. As it is only up the road we thought we would try to recreate this experience. Our plan was to travel to Barga and Castelnuovo, and perhaps the mountains of Abetone taking in the
Maddalena's bridge or Devil's Bridge (ponte del diavolo) connecting the banks of the river Serchio.

The bridge is so called becase the master mason, after he had begun building it, noticed that he could not complete it by the required day. Gripped with fear he invoked the Devil for help. The Devil accepted to complete the bridge in a night in exchange of the spirit of the first that will cross it. The contract was signed but the constructor, full of remorse, confessed himself and the churchmen advised him to let a pig cross the bridge first. So the Devil was defeated and he disappeared in the deepness of the river.

I had planned a wonderful route that would take in the breathtaking scenery of the mountains to abetone. Scenery comes at a cost, and the rough guide advised that the road was 'impassable in bad weather'. Underterred we set off in the face of brooding skies only to hit lightening and thunder at Bagni di lucca. This little town was a favourite of Shelly and other romanticists. In its heyday people flocked to the famous casino from all over Europe where roulette was invented. We stopped, had a wonder around and an ice cream. After a weather check, we ventured on up the mountain a little more. Every corner was a hairpin and the nasty cloud over the peak did not look inviting. We stopped at a viewpoint, took in the view and headed back down the mountain.

We then made for Castelnuovo di Garfagnana, a lovely little town where years ago I bought my wallet. The windy roads put me to sleep on the way there and I awoke on arrival. Bleary eyed I followed dad and heather up the street for a coffee and window shopping in any number of shoe shops. Barga would have to wait, we were hungry and had a great meal awaiting us. Or so we thought.

We arrived at Gallicano parked the car and stroled down memorable streets to the door of the restaurant. Our smiles crumpled as we read the sign that said 'martedì chiuso'. Of all the days of the week, we had come on the one it was shut. Our hearts faded with the evening light and we drove home to investigate a lesser restaurant on our list. We eventually found Trattoria la Pia, or what we referred to for the rest of our time as 'object of desire'.

Full of confidence and rapid italian desks I asked for un tavalo per tre in vicino alla finestra upon arrival. Seated a grumpy bald man with a lip beard gabbled italian at us. I managed to order vino rosso della casa and acqua con gas. He didn't smile. After chatting to his friends he came back and gabbled more italian, the primo piatta course. I made out ravioli and asked for that, heather picked up tortelloni and dad some zuppa. A long wait ensued after which some very enjoyable fresh pasta. He waited a little longer and came back to take our meat course orders. This stumped us. We couldn't understand a word. There was no written menu and when I asked him 'parla inglese?' the reply was a curt 'no'. So we ordered steak and salads 'cause we knew the italian and the little man scurried off again. All the while, throughout his sour service he wore an easyjet-orange tea-shirt with the words emblazened across the front: 'OBJECT OF DESIRE'. The irony of it all.

Viva italia

Heather and I have just returned from our holiday in Italy with my family. We are now both full of the anticlimax of post-holiday blues, and the realisation of impending work for heather and study for me.

It was Heather's first visit to Italy, and I am pretty sure it won't be her last. We filled 512mb of our brand new memory card with about 300 photographs which, as soon as I get hold of them will populate the blog. In the meantime, and as much for my own memory as anything else, this is a rough diary of the trip:

Saturday 29 July

Heather was flying early morning from Leeds, Dad and I were flying later on in the day, and the rest were to join us the following week. Despite a powercut at the Leeds Jet2 desk, we arrived with relative pre-terrorist alert ease. Poor Heather was waiting in a crowded Pisa airport from 12 to 8 when we landed, and she couldn't even go outside for a thunderous storm that ravaged the airspace. United, we bounced from car rental desk to desk until we found our pre-booked Renault, jumped aboard and promptly headed off in the wrong direction towards Florence. A 30 minute journey escalated into an hour and a half and around midnight we arrived at Casa Tiziana, our abode for the following 2 weeks. We had no food or water, it was hot, but we were there.

Sunday 30 August

Day breaks to reveal the rolling Tuscan hills and the shimmering blue of a swimming pool at the bottom of the garden. The first order of the day is to find a supermarket so we can stock up on some water and milk etc. After investigating the house and the garden we jump in the car and head for our local- Esselunga. But it's closed. This stumps us somewhat as we don't know where any other supermarkets are, or if they'll be open. We decide the best option is to sample some of the restaurants in Lucca. We find a place we've been to before, near the walls and I order some of the best gnocchi I've ever had. Gnocci with pesto, garlic and balsamic vinegar. It was great, a dish we would order several times over the course of our stay.

We returned to the house, and in the 33C heat Heather and I hit the pool. We discovered the lost art of climbing on a lilo and dodging drowning flies while front-crawling.



We thought we'd try the supermarkets in the evening seeing as the weren't open earlier, but again with no success. It turns out that the supermarkets in Lucca have an agreement between them that one will stay open on Sundays, and that one will alternate. Only in practice, they all forget who is to stay open and all shut. Instead we find ourselves walking the beautiful cobbled streets of Lucca in search of Leo's Trattoria. When we find it we're accosted by eccentric Amercian professors hunting for Mr Abercrombie, enthusiastic waiters and delicious ravioli.

Tomorrow we'll visit somewhere and start doing the whole sight-seeing thing.




That's all for now folks, I'll do some more days soon.