Lucca: It's Me & You Today

The next morning I awoke to an empty room and a clear sky. Ahh, considerate roommates and good weather – it’s gonna be a good day.

First order of business was to pick out “my” café. Since I had done some scouting for an internet café the day before, I already had a good idea of where I wanted to go. There was a sweet little mom & pop bar near the hostel I had liked the feel of, despite not using their internet. So I went right in and ordered “my usual.” Oh and did I ever pick the right place this time around. Their brioches were so…dense with crème, ahhhh! They were simply heavy with deliciousness. I could feel the bottom sagging under the weight of the heavenly crème hiding in there. Definitely the best I’ve found yet. Yup, it’s going to be a good day, alright.

As I consulted Rick on my activities for the day, I decided to climb a couple of the towers in town (there was a combo-ticket deal and I was in a stairs kind of mood), to check out what used to be a Roman amphitheatre (I just can’t get over how cool those are), and to bike the ramparts. In medieval times, Lucca was heavily invested in keeping other city-states out, so they fortified their city by putting walls up to completely surround themselves. The walls still stand today and are wide and flat and perfect for biking. Rick says you can rent a bike by the hour and easily do two laps in about 40 minutes. I could hardly wait!

The amphitheatre was first on the list (as it was the closest) and it was also my briefest stop. As it turned out, it was only a ghost of the old amphitheatre – the town had kept the basic shape and construction of the circumference of the theatre, but it had been transformed into several cute little shops along the perimeter and a piazza in the center. You could even still see parts of the original walls in the existing structure; it was an interesting juxtaposition of the old and the new, to say the least.

Next up were the towers. As expected, both afforded excellent views of the city and it was difficult to stop taking pictures. However, soon after my summit of the first tower, the rain decided to make a repeat appearance. So before it got out of hand, I scurried to the second tower (this one a clock tower to boot!) to enjoy the view and make use of my ticket. I waited around to see the “mighty clock” click into action, but after 15 minutes, nothing happened, so I gave up. And at that point I could see that the rain was turning into more than just a sprinkle.

So with the weather turning, I wasn’t really in the mood to go hunting for a restaurant – especially since all I really wanted was soup (it was really a “rainy day special*” kind of day, but I didn’t think I’d be able to find that, so soup was a good second choice). I dashed back to the hostel for a better jacket and the guy at the desk lent me his umbrella and suggested I try what turned out to be “my café” to find soup. I decided to grab my computer while I was at it and simply hunker down for a while and hopefully ride out the weather.

Unfortunately the weather showed no signs of letting up whatsoever, so it looked like biking was going to have to wait until tomorrow. The rest of my day was very low-key (eating soup, blogging, reading, napping) and I actually quite enjoyed the down time. Despite the rain, I did venture out to a Rick recommended trattoria for dinner and ordered the meat ravioli – an excellent decision. They were absolutely fantastic. So good, in fact, I was inspired to order the dessert of the day. However, as I have mentioned before, it turned out to be a cake-y cookie thing and left something to be desired. Oh well – nothing ventured, nothing gained I guess.

*A rainy day special is tomato soup heated slowly with an egg floating in its midst, until the egg is soft-boiled and the soup is hot paired with an ultimate grilled cheese sandwich (imagine a regular grilled cheese sandwich, except replace the mayo with cream cheese and then add a dash of garlic salt). This marriage of deliciousness evolved out of the many years Becky and I were roommates (and hunkered down together on rainy days). Ever since then, I’ve considered it my mission to teach the world about this fantastic little crappy weather lunch menu item. Consider yourselves learned.

The Morning Routine

I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this before, but since I’ve absorbed the habit of an “Italian breakfast,” in every city I also like to choose a café or bar where I’m going to daily order my cappuccino, eat my brioche and plan my activities a lá Rick. However, I can’t simply wander into just any bar and cop a squat; it has to meet certain requirements in order for it to be “my morning place.”

Obviously this requires a significant amount of research on the first morning. I usually wander the streets (also trying to begin to gain my bearings a bit) and try to scout out a place that a) has good lookin’ pastries b) is busy, but not too busy c) has places to sit d) doesn’t charge (much, if anything) to sit down and e) is somewhat off the beaten path. (The latter one usually helps to accomplish all the former ones.) It can be time consuming, but the payoff is fantastic. I usually get to know the people there at least a little bit, I establish a mini-routine, and it gives me warm-fuzzies to be a repeat patron (makes me feel semi-local and not just a faceless tourist).

Sometimes I have to do several “pass-bys” before I can get a feel for a place. Is it too crowded? Does it have a mom & pop feel or an urban-chain feel? Do they seem genuine or disinterested? Do they have the crème brioches, or just the plain ones? Every once in a while I don’t get it right and then I have to try again the next day (those are also often the days that I’m too hungry/impatient to do quality research and just pick something), but most of the time I do alright. And no matter where I am - it's usually my favorite part of the day.

Lucca (I Am Your Father...)

After Cinque Terre, it felt good to get back to my previous routine; back to just me. I was surprised to catch myself feeling...relieved on my way to Lucca. What was that about? I had really enjoyed my new friends - in fact, I was quite sad to see them go - yet there it was: a renewed lightness one feels after lifting a heavy load. Hmm, perhaps protecting my independence was more important to me than I realized. Interesting.

In any case, Lucca lay before me and I was beholden unto it. Unfortunately, the rain from Cinque Terre followed me there. I continued to do my best and shrug it off like a true Northwesterner, but soon it picked up to the point that even I couldn't ignore. No sight-seeing today. So I cheerfully grabbed my laptop, found an internet cafe and set up camp. Shortly after I arrived it absolutely POURED! I couldn't help but smile; I was more than content with my computer and a warm cup of tea (TEA! My long lost friend!) within arms reach.

Eventually I made my way back to the hostel and this is when I had my very first interaction with Sally, the tangential talker. Now, at one point or another, all of us have gone off on tangents. We've probably all even met someone who tends to wear us down with their inability to stick to the subject. However, Sally doesn't quite fall into either of these categories. Instead of taking the conversation into a slightly different thread, she starts in a completely unrelated place and eventually you find that it does, in fact, tie into what you WERE talking about.

So imagine a conversation as a circle. The normal person's deviation from the conversation would be represented by a line that is tangent to the circle (hence the term...), leading away from the conversation. Eventually the person will acknowledge the tangent and return to the circle, siting the point of tangency as a reference to get back on track with the main dialogue of the conversation. (See diagram below.)

Sally is not like this. If we continue with our illustration, then Sally chooses a point no where in the vicinity of the circle and eventually talks her way toward it, until the line DOES (somehow) become tangent to the circle. The conversation then stays on course with the circle for a brief time, until she chooses another unrelated point and again works her way back toward the circle. (See diagram.)

The disadvantage of this is (obviously) that it is quite difficult to stay on par with Sally. However, the advantage (I quickly learned) is that you can tune her out and limit your end of the conversation to simple "uh huhs" at the appropriate pauses. By the time you consciously return, she's come back to the circle and you miracuously know what she is talking about*. This method served me quite well, seeing as Sally is not only a tangential talker, but she also talks non-stop; smoothly and evenly she rolls on and on from one seemingly unrelated topic to the next. Honestly, it was remarkable. In more than one of my departures from attentiveness, I was trying to fashion a way I could document via video her tangentiality for you. However, I decided that neither one of us has that kind of time, so I abandoned the project.

(You're wondering what she looks like, aren't you? Well, she is short and a little stocky, but still kind of tan. She is over 65 and has dark gray hair that is cut very short and like a boy in the back (yet curly and girly up front...yes, it was kind of unusual). Her top teeth look like dentures and her bottom teeth seem to be sawed down at an angle; the teeth on the lower left are taller than those on the lower right. She truly was one of a kind.)

So after AN HOUR of Sally to myself, our other roomie comes in: a cute red-head from Australia named Sarah. We all swap brief stores (who we are and what we're doing here) and make plans for later. Sarah has already eaten, so she and I agree to go out for wine and tapas (snacks) after dinner, but Sally and I** are going to catch a bite now. Fortunately, there is a Rick Steves pizza reccomendation right across the street from the hostel, so Sally and I hit it up. She slows her conversation a bit and we have a nice time. The pizza is okay, but not close to the best I've had so far. Soon we head back and I find Sarah. We head out and have some good convo over wine and snacks. Unfortunately we have to leave after only a half hour or so because the place is completely reserved. We strike out finding another place to go (it was a Sunday evening) so we call it a night. Even though I've "seen" very little of Lucca so far, I like it very much. The entertainment has been impecable; hopefully now the weather will finally shape up...

*For the record, I realize this sounds quite mean, but it believe me when I say it wasn't intentional. When she gets going, it's not possible to get a word in edgewise, and since you have no idea where she going with any given topic, it becomes difficult to follow and your mind naturally wanders.

**Before you get to thinking I'm generous for volunteering to spend additional time with the tangential talker, let me just say, I actually really liked Sally - she was funny in her own way. Plus, in a group of three, she was quite pleasant and her convo was much more linear...er, circular - if we stick with the diagram from before...heh.

Something a Little Different

I've had the opportunity to do a bit of reflection over the past few days, and I thought I'd take a minor detour from the usual posts and share some fun observations I've had about Italy thus far.

So that's what you'll find below.

Don't worry, the daily narratives will soon be back - I'm working on a few right now. I'm actually pretty far behind (in terms of real time) so my goal is to catch you up before the week is out (so I hope you're ready to read! Plus, the next one about Lucca is pretty good, so stay tuned).

But in the mean time, I hope you enjoy this small collection of reflections.

P.S. I'm hoping these will also suit as good fodder for comments; cultural differences seem to have that effect...

What's Mine is Yours...

It seems that here in Italy, cars only have slightly more rights to the roads than people. Jay walking is not just allowed, it's its own sport. People will walk in the road if it suits them as well as cross when and where they like. What I would consider pedestrian "rules" of the road are certainly more like guidelines.

Similarly, the reciprocal is also true; sidewalks are only slightly more inhabited by foot traffic than vehicles. It is not uncommon to see bikes and vespas cutting the corners off intersections via the sidewalk. Cars use the entire sidewalk as their own personal parking lot (which often forces pedestrians into the street to get around them...) particularly at crosswalks and on curbs.

But somehow, this chaotic intermingling of auto and foot traffic all has a smooth, choreographed feel to it. Drivers will stop for pedestrians even though they have the right of way. Pedestrians do their best to stay out of drivers' way - even if that driver is on the sidewalk. Pedestrians cut-off cars; cars cut-off pedestrians...everyone seems to be anticipating one another, so they're all pretty self-aware at any given time. Perhaps because the roads are so narrow, uneven, and windy, users have had this evolution of sharing forced upon them - I don't really know. What I can tell you is that like finely tuned cogs in a complex machine, they all work together in a harmony and balance I don't fully understand but can certainly appreciate.

Waiting my turn for the crosswalk at home is going to require so much more discipline after this. I've come to enjoy being an aggressive pedestrian; it gets you where you want to go.

All Carbs, All the Time

So after what amounts to about 40 days of mostly carbs (with a side of meat and dairy), you'd think I'd be sick of pasta (Lord knows I couldn't eat it this often at home), but here...it's not even an issue. In fact, I haven't really even craved for food at home (other than the occasional pho craving I get after reading Marjie's blog - but that doesn't count). And to tell you the truth, I feel extremely good. I think my diet (oddly enough) is the most balanced it's ever been. Every day I have plenty of energy to carry me through the (seemingly) endless miles I walk and I'm not tempted to overeat. I feel satisfied after every meal, but never busting at the seams. It seems weird that so many carbs could do that, but I have a sneaky feeling it has to do with the kinds of carbs and their proportions to other food groups*. I think the Italians are really onto something with this tiny-breakfast-multi-carb-large-lunch-OR-dinner-wine-every-day thing they've got going on**. I have no idea if the scale would agree with me, but my pants are roomier than ever and I even inherited a belt from a girl in Lucca so I could keep my khakies ON.

Who needs the gym, when you can just live in Italy ;)

*In fact, the other day it occurred to me: what if I'm not getting enough meat? So I ordered meat and potatoes for my next meal and even though it was delicious, I felt sluggish and full in a really dense way and generally kind of crappy after that.

**I know, I LOVE it!

The First Day is the Toughest

As I'm closing my 5th week in Italy, I'm finally noticing a pattern in my feelings and perceptions of any given city - and it's all tied into success.

No matter how much Rick Steves prepares me, it's inevitable that I feel at least a little lost/confused/naive when I first arrive in a city I've never been to before. I know I'm going to make mistakes, get lost, and spend the day constantly retracing my steps.

But for me, if I find I have at least some success with my navigation on the SECOND day, then I usually relax and really enjoy the new city and the new experiences it is waiting to bestow upon me. It gives me a sense of confidence and accomplishment that allows me the freedom to explore further, widen my comfort zone, and simply SEE MORE than what I saw in the same place yesterday. Without those small victories on day 2, I'm trapped in a prison of helplessness and naivety.

Plus it helps when you have a good map. :)

Italians On the Phone

I absolutely love listening to Italians on the phone; it's an experience in itself.

To begin with, they don't answer the phone with "Ciao!" as you might expect. Instead they say, "Pronto!" which literally translated means "Ready!" (Which to me seems to mean, "Hello/Get to the point." No dilly-dallying niceties here....) Of course after that, I can't really understand anything they say, but what follows seems to be a constant, non-stop, outpouring of words - and from what I can tell - on both sides of the conversation (as I have yet to see an Italian with a phone to his or her ear, quietly listening except for the occasional "uh huh")*.

Then with no apparent warning (this is my favorite part), one party (seems to) cut off the other party with a rapid firing of "ciao-ciao-ciao-ciao..." until it all runs together and your ear only picks up the "ch" sound. Sometimes they even hang up before they've finished the chorus of ciaos.

I love it! It makes me smile every time I come across it. I really wish I could utilize the "rapid ciao" while I'm here, but of course I have no phone, I know no real amount of Italian, and I have no one to call in Italy :( But that doesn't stop me from wanting to greet random people with rapid, excessive ciaos though. I mean, I know it technically means good-bye in that instance...but it would be such a fun greeting! I'm sure it would only secure confused stares though - so I don't do it.

*Occasionally there is excessive gesturing, but it's not a hard and fast rule.

Beach Day

For our last day in CT, Philip and I decide it’s beach day. It's been a full few days and a little rest and relaxation sounds pretty good. We get into our suits and head to Monterosso (yes, again) because it’s the only city with an actual sand beach. Neither of us has a towel, so after we reconcile that small detail (i.e. purchase crappy beach towels) we lay out and soak up the vitamin D, baby.

Really, not much more to report other than that. Eventually we go back to Vernazza for lunch (wood fired pizza) and more sun (this time on huge, slab rocks - very sea lion-esque). We didn't even take a single picture today (I know, for shame!).

We decide that for our last meal in Cinque Terre, we want a second helping of the incredible lasagna al pesto we'd had a few nights before.

Unfortunately, after we climb the hundreds of steps to get there, we discover it is not open. That sucks. We settle for someplace else, but it’s not quite the same. Despite the several naps we took today and the crammed schedule of doing nothing, we are both exhausted. We try to reflect on the trip and share our perspectives on the last few days, but all we come up with is that Philip thinks it’s weird he met a friend on vacation; I think it’s weird I took a vacation from my vacation. But all in all – it’s been good. :)

Tomorrow morning Philip is off to Switzerland, back to L'Abri for more studying; I'll be making my way to the nearby Lucca. Just a skip away from Pisa, I hear it's a great city. Despite the fellowship of late, I'm looking forward to being back on the move.

5 towns, 4 hikes, 3 hours baby

Since we will be hiking from one end of Cinque Terre to the other (and we've pretty much done the train thing) we decide to go to Monterosso via boat and hike our way back. Besides, even though we've eaten there several times now, we still have yet to do the self-guided tour.

So we set out to put our plan into action and discover we've just missed the boat and it's an hour until the next one. D'oh! So we tell Patrick, we'll meet him in Vernazza for lunch in two hours. (As it turns out, this is common practice for Philip and I: we make a plan, congratulate ourselves on said plan, then realize it doesn't jive with the train/boat/bus schedule and have to wait. Boooo!) When the boat finally arrives, we're rewarded with some pretty sweet views of each city.

We hop off the boat and begin taking our sweet time on the Rick self-guided tour. Unlike the other cities, Monterosso actually has some sites to see, including a Church of Cappuccin Monks. I kid you not, when we went inside to sit down and take a breather, we could hear actual monks chanting. (Dad, this made me think of you.) It was pretty amazing. But soon we realize that we’re not going to be able to hike it all the way to Vernazza AND meet Patrick for lunch. (Again, with the schedule we're so proud of and not considering the actual time it will take...) So we resolve to take the train to meet Patrick, have lunch, take the train back, then begin the hike. (Silly, but...well you know how it goes sometimes.) So we finish the tour at a leisurely pace, pre-funk our lunch with some gelato (vanilla for him and nutella fo me) and take the train to Vernazza.

This new plan works great and we share some excellent wood-fired pizza while enjoying the best weather we've had yet. (Yay for sun!!) Again though, we have again neglected to consult the train schedule and must wait for our respective trains for nearly an hour. Fortunately we were able to do this in the sun. Finally we are able to head back to Monterosso, let the hiking (finally) begin!

It’s our last night as a group (Patrick, Matt and Ellen are heading back to Switzerland – Philip decides he needs one more day in CT before he can go) so we make a pact to eat together and hang out (since that has hardly happened since they got here). We check the train schedule and the one we want is in 20 minutes – eke! So we bust it back to our rooms for a quick shower and agree to meet at the train.

I’m at a slight disadvantage because my room is much further into town than everyone else’s, but I give it my best effort anyway. When I get back to my room, I discover I have roommates (figures). Fortunately they aren’t in at the moment. I fly in, shower and peace out as fast as humanly possible, literally sprinting (in my black boots nonetheless) all the way back down to the train, nearly killing myself with a mighty stumble and miraculous recovery* down the stairs.

When I reach the station, the train is already there (ack!) and I have to book it down the stairs, under the tracks, and back up the stairs in order to get on. As I tear up the last flight two at a time, I see the train pulling away – nooooo!! But then I hear Philip call my name and everyone is standing there, patiently waiting. What good friends! I was so relieved (and out of breath) I had to sit down, or risk passing out.

We revise our dinner plan and head to Monterosso instead (mostly because that is where the next train was headed and we were hungry). We had a great dinner of steaks for just about everyone and black and white pasta for me (I’m addicted!). After that we head to Vernazza for a little night life action. After a round of drinks we decide to head back to Riomaggiore, because we didn’t want to miss the last train and find ourselves in a pickle. We had another round of drinks "at home" before finally calling it a night. All in all a slightly hecktic, but very fun evening.

*Honestly, I can't account for how I didn't fall down. I just keep replaying it in my head - and there is no way. I trip, have the sensation of falling and even the capacity of mind to think "this is gonna hurt" and then manage to stay on my feet and continue running. I wish I could have seen it for someone else's point of view, because it is entirely inexplicable to me.

**99% of these photos thanks to PBJ (again).