The Retirees go Abroad – Lucca on a hot day

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We set out early for Lucca from Nice (that is if you call 9.00am early). The car is now loaded to the gunnels but is still travelling sweetly. We can tell this is going to be another hot day and this is soon confirmed with Autostrada information – the temperate is 32C.

Leaving Nice is a task with its winding highway through the centre of the city but once clear of the city it is plain sailing. The sky is clear and the sun is starting to burn. With the air conditioning pump disconnected its windows down and head into the breeze. Fortunately the E80, A10 and A12 must be the world’s most tunnelled stretch of road. Not aware of the immense number of tunnels to come we did not count them but it would have to been in the order of 50+ as we journeyed through to Lucca. Most were over 600m long and every one had its own name as did the bridges stretching to cross the immense gulfs of air between mountains. There were equally as many bridges as tunnels.

We pass many hilltop villages and the landscape is mountainous to our left but pretty coastline and villages to our right. But both are hot as the notice board on the Autostrada continues to inform. On we fly hot wind in our hair and sweat running down our backs.

We stop for a cuppa underneath a radio satellite station on top of hills looking like moon stations. We pass Carrara and the scar on the mountain where they drag out the huge blocks of marble. The toll gates await as we turn off the Autostrada into Lucca.

Finally we arrive at our apartment. Kerry’s IPhone says “no service” so we cannot contact the landlord to let him know we have arrived early. David to the rescue and we make contact. No English! Okay the Italian lessons start sooner than expected.

A young woman arrives with a determined haste – it is Valerie with our key. Escape from the sun is now at hand. We have a lift so in go the suitcases but the apartment is a bit weird. Valerie is in such a hurry she does not ask for the bond and is gone before we can finish asking our questions – like where is the kettle?

David studies the apartment information and I have a shower to cool down. Cold water all around. Meantime we plan a visit to the old city via bus. The stop is across the road from our apartment block and the driver “no comprendi” but had a good idea of what every tourist wants. When we arrive at Porta de Pietro (a gate in the city walls – yes the wooden gates are still hanging in place) even the old chap sitting at the bus stop gave us a sign – no not the finger but pointed in the direction we had to go. We are such obvious tourists!

Finding the Tourism Office was quite a task. The map given to us by the landlord showed two offices and of course we chose the one that had closed. David interrogated two young kids kicking a football and got nowhere. I asked a signor outside some dodgy looking establishment and we were on our way. At the other end of the town we found the office in what looked like an old fort near the ramparts.

We then moved back through the town to a small square (Plaza del Puccini) where we settled in Madama Butterfly for some drinks. The breeze was starting to rise and the temperature was cooling. Some local beers and a half carafe of wine and Lucca was looking not too bad. We had settled so we looked at the menu. Two pizzas to share and another round of drinks and the girls were giggly. The waiter was young and handsome and the girls were feeling like flirting so we ordered desert. Then the band started in the square so we ordered coffee. Our budget was blown!

As we made our way back to our bus stop Pallazio Napoleane was being invaded by people dressed in white. Veronica ever the chatty one asked what was going on and found out that there was a fund raising dinner happening in the square and everyone brought their own plate and dressed in white. Meanwhile I had spotted a boxing match in an adjoining square. So I stayed to watch a couple of rounds until dragged away to catch the bus. On the way I was able to snap the old city gates still hanging by their ancient hinges, two interesting balconies and the Italians love of scooters.

Tomorrow had immense promise; we head for Pisa.

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