It's Not What You Think

So I'm sure you were vastly amused by the story of me washing our clothes with bleach...well, it gets better.

At home, the automatic dishwashing soap comes in a little packet that you drop in the soap holder, and flip the flippy closed.   So that's what we did with our teensy automatic dishwasher.

We were on our second load of not very clean dishes when I saw two slightly rumpled but still tightly wrapped packets of soap lying on the bottom on the dishwasher.  Oops.  Now we unwrap them.  At least we're not washing the dishes with bleach.

All the comforts of home - an Apple computer:

(that only speaks Italian)

and a dryer that's a bit different than we're used to:

It's nearly as fast as my Fisher Paykel.  Since clotheslines are illegal where I live, I'm getting one.  

The kitchen is compact:

but has three coffee makers,

A tiny refrigerator, 

full of yummy things from the local shops. 

A minuscule freezer, maybe six inches deep: 

 just big enough for a small bottle of gin.

But the best bakery in Lucca is right next door.  

And with piazzas full of cafes and restaurants every block or two, and that great bakery, who could ask for anything more?

A World Lit Only By Fire

For days there have been cranes putting up iron frames for candles around the windows, doorways and arches of buildings and palaces.  And there are a lot of palaces here.  And arches.

It's the Festival of Volto Santo, and Lucchese from all over the world have come home.  Tonight there will be a candlelight parade, complete with relics (they leave the jeweled cross in the church, however...I think it's an insurance thing).  There will be fireworks you can see from the top of the walls.  Markets in every square.  And if we think it was crowded before, we are told, just you wait.

Guys on ladders and in cherry pickers are lighting candles all evening...

...and our normally crowded street is so dense we can hardly step out from our doorway.  

Believe it or not people are actually biking in this traffic.  I was nearly decapitated by a cyclist when I stuck my head out to see if it was safe to step out.  Michael jokes that bikers in this crowd are either deadly - or dead. 

 The church around the corner glows

The cross leads the parade

Followed by the candles

Along the route the street lights have been turned off, and the procession is by candlelight.  It's eerie - a world lit only by fire.  In these narrow streets it could be 600 years ago.

Except for the flashes from the cameras.  And the costumes.  I don't think they had backpacks in the 1400s.

Lisa's cousin Fioruccio and his boyfriend Paolo take us up on the walls to see the fireworks.  The explosions echo off the walls, the earth shakes.  Now we know what it felt like to be under attack here.

They are spectacular - palm trees and waterfalls of stars that go on and on, white circles of fire that explode in the air to reveal red hearts inside, layers on layers of colors.

It's after midnight when we get home

and find there was a big party in the alley next door.  Glad we saw the fireworks, sorry we missed the party.

The Newly Wed and the Nearly Dead

You know you're in a hotel that caters to old people when:

-the first treatment on the spa menu is an age-defying facial, and:

-the make-up mirror in your bathroom is about 12x magnification.  Great for people my age...if you're able to bend over to get within two inches of the mirror.  Otherwise it's all a blur.

It is stunning.  Most of the guests are old, with a few dazed honeymooners thrown in.

And Il Pelicano has a great back story.  Michael Graham, a Brit, was the only survivor of a plane crash in the African bush.  He jumped out of the plane and trusted the trees and bushes to break his fall.  Those who did not jump died.  I think there's a life lesson here.  Patsy Daszel, an American socialite, read the story in the papers, and wanted to meet him someday.  

Some years later, he went to a party in LA, under duress (I suppose after surviving a plane crash what you really want is a good nap.  Or a stiff drink.) She was there and was being courted by Clark Gable.  It was love at first sight.  Between Patsy and Michael, not Clark and Michael.  Good to clear that up.

So when Patsy and Michael were looking for a place to settle down, a friend - a prince, of course - showed them this wild piece of coast, down a twisting road from the fishing village of Porto Ercole (which of course has now become a retreat for wealthy Romans).  A retreat, a place for friends to relax and recharge - and perhaps recover from an indiscretion? or an unpleasant divorce?  

It is still a retreat - one of the Aga Khan's wives - ex, I think - is here.  Grumpy and beautiful.  And old.  I'm guessing the first ex based on her age, but I could be wrong.

It is now the lap of luxury.  Within two seconds of checking in we have booked extra nights.  A swim in the sea,

and thank goodness we did, because the next day the sea was closed.  Too rough.  

Wally dives off the bottom rungs of the sea ladder and nearly becomes the human Costa Concordia.  The scratches down his tummy bear witness.

As we are sipping Prosecco on our terrace a super moon comes up across the sea.  Magic.

Sunset - 

and dinner at their Michelin starred restaurant...   

Every request, no matter how trivial or ridiculous, is met with "Yes, of course!"  And yet Mrs Ex Aga Khan is still grumpy.  I wonder what her life must be like if she can't be happy here. 

The next morning the sea is too rough for swimming.  We drive into Porto Ercole for lunch and a walk down memory lane.  We rented an apartment here years ago.  No posh hotels, a small fishing harbor.  The charm remains.

A jellyfish - a medusa in local parlance - pulses in the shallows of the harbor.

On the waterfront we eat Fritto Misto...

 ...and spaghetti vongole with the locals and the rich Romans.  It's easy to tell them apart,

Some time in the night we have an unwanted visitor.  A mosquito the size of  Fiat.  

 Happy Anniversary, my darling.  In paradise.

 

During the night there is a spectacular thunderstorm.  Seems to be a theme for our anniversary - when we were in Positano at La Sireneuse for an anniversary, there was a thunderstorm that knocked out the power.  Must have been a common thing, the generator kicked in within seconds.  Here the power stays on, and we stay up and watch the lightning fork down to the sea. 

Next morning when it's time to leave we have breakfast on the terrace overlooking the pool under gray and threatening skies.  By the time we're driving away the rain is streaming down and all the dining is indoors.  Lucked out again.

If you have a chance, go.  Il Pelicano is a magical place.

Cinque Terre

You can do the Cinque Terre in one day, but it's not easy.  We hire Paola to guide us, and when we get to the train station and see the flocks of English and American tourists trying to find their way through the tunnels and to the right platform, we are so happy.  Heck, we wouldn't have found the train station without Paola.  

When we give up our seats to get off in Rio Maggiore and we see the seething mass of humanity trying to get on the train we just got off, we think we've made a terrible mistake.  But Paola walks us thru yet another tunnel into the town:

and thru the maze to the harbor.

And when we get on the next train to the next town, Manarola,  it's not nearly as crowded.

The streets are steep:

And crowded.  But apparently it's worse when the cruise ships are in.  And clearly the staff lives above this sandwich shop - you can tell by the aprons hanging out to dry.

It's a gorgeous day, people are sunning and swimming from the rocks

and the narrow beaches

 You can walk, kayak, train or boat between most of the villages - there was a torrential storm with mudslides in 2012 and the path between Rio Maggiore and Manarola is still closed. 

  We boat and train between the towns, and lunch at Belforte in Vernazza.  Perched high on the rocks above the crowded town, with a fabulous view of the harbor, we dine up three flights of rock and steel stairs, on a rock terrace with a 360 degree view.  

Never would have found it without help, the town is a maze of tunnels and stairs.  Thank you Paola.  

Great food, I don't like anchovies but these were delicious:

and Fritto Misto

 Took this boat to Monterossa al Mare, 

into a beautiful harbor, and a town full of tourists.  The Americans are easy to spot, they look like giant seagulls in squishy white shoes.  

On the way we passed strange looking rental boats - part pedal boat, part water slide - complete with bathing beauties.  It's all about the sea.

On the way home we can see Carrara, the marble mountains rising white like snow covered alps behind the town.  This is where the marble for Michelangelo's David came from, and they waste nothing.  The marble dust is put into the local toothpaste.  And there is a special kind of lard, Colonata, that is mixed with herbs, salt and pepper, and then aged in Carrara marble.  If we see it in the stores we are so trying it.  Wonder what the cardiologists here have to say about it. 

Home to Lucca Lucca.  Exhausted.  Happy.

On The Way

"On this flight there is absolutely no smocking," the flight attendant announces.  So those of you who had planned to do a little hand sewing, perhaps something for your granddaughter?  You're out of luck.  

Love that A380.  It can take up  to 853 passengers, but with all the business class seats this one is more like 500.  And that's plenty.  Especially at the baggage carousel.

Upstairs it's so quiet you can hear your seat mate's motor as he reclines.  And in business class, reclining is not an act of aggression toward your neighbor.

The next leg of our trip: not so much.  The only amenity in this business class is an empty seat next to you.  Good thing, because the seats are the size of kiddie booster seats, with about as much charm - and leg room, and the seats don't recline.  At all.  That would solve the current controversy raging in the US about reclining your seat.

As we land in Florence and taxi toward the terminal, there is a turbo-prop sitting just off the runway at a drunken angle, wings tilted and nose slightly down.  As we get closer you can see the taxiway ends about 50 feet short of where the plane sits - oops - and grass is growing around the plane.  I'd love to know the story behind that.

 The window in our hotel is small, but the view is spectacular.  I expect to see Brunelleschi sticking his head out a nearby window to admire his dome.  This could be 500 years ago.

Except for the crowds.  And their costumes.  

And the tourists on Segways.  With e-cigarettes.  Doesn't get more modern than this.

And of course there are all the touristy things.  Pickpockets and policemen working the crowds.  The pickpockets are much more active than the police, but the police are better dressed.

There are horse drawn carriages that look more like Dickens' London than Michelangelo's Firenze.  

Flower decked bicycles

and swirled towers of gelato.

 And the most beautiful leather goods.

Wally and I are rocking our Italian, gaining more confidence - until I ask in a restaurant in my best Italian for a table for two outside, and the hostess is off to the races.  I get that I should ask the boys outside; the rest is lost.  But the next day, walking down the street, a couple passes, and we hear him say (in Italian) "Not if you gave me a sack of money!"  We understand the idiom thanks to Gina and her fabulous Italian class.  And we've discovered we're not afraid to speak, to try, to laugh when we mess up.  

We find a florist selling weird and wonderful seeds:

And see the long and short of driving in medieval Florence.  

Safety tip:  pick the car that's easier to park.   It will also fit down the narrow streets without having to use the sidewalk.  Not that they don't all use the sidewalk as an extra lane....

We cross the river to eat at Camillo on Borgo San Iacopo, and besides the best meal we've had, we meet the most interesting people.  She is a classical Indian dancer; he is a handbag designer and has an atelier in Florence.  Corto Moltedo handbags.  Fabulous, and yes you can buy them on line.  

There are little boys learning how to row:

And skilled scullers, so fast they are beneath you almost before you can fire up your camera.

It's a magical modern medieval zoo.