Moving Day

Today we ended one adventure and started another.  It was a day of travel, as we left our home for the past month and began our week of travel.

It was not a day we looked forward to.  Part of that was sadness at leaving a place that has been relaxing, rejuvenating, and above all "pleasant."  More than that, we weren't looking forward to packing everything up and hauling it to the train station and onto multiple trains during the course of the day.

In some ways the step that concerned us most was the first one, carrying our luggage down the 51 steps from the apartment to the street.  One of the only advantages to our luggage not arriving in Italy when we did was that we didn't have to lug it from the bus to the apartment and up the steps.  We packed relatively light, but when you pack for five weeks your suitcase is going to be bulkier and heavier than you might like.

We carried the bags downstairs without problem (and without resorting to the temptation to let gravity carry them down the steps at their own pace).  We then lugged them to the train station, stopping midway so that Shelley could satisfy one of her "must-do's," having a waffle for breakfast.  That nicely broke up the twenty-minute walk to the station into two parts, and we had new-found strength after having a waffle and pastry.  We also knew that our train travel might preclude eating until late in the day.

Lucca's brick and cobblestone streets don't seem quite as quaint when you're trying to roll a suitcase over them.  Two different times, Shelley's four-wheeler hit a rut between the bricks and nearly went over, but we made it to the train station without difficulty.  On our way we circled around Piazza Napoleone, where preparations were underway for the Backstreet Boys concert tonight.


The last thing I saw before going into the station was a bus with an advertisement on the side for a website, www.ciaobimbo.it  It had pictures of babies, so it looked innocent enough, and apparently "bimbo" means baby in Italian as does "bambino."  It turned my head, and made me consider the importance of internet context in the form of domain names.  I'm betting that "Ciaobimbo.com" would have very different content than "Ciaobimbo.it," and I don't even want to think about what "Ciaobimbo.xxx" might look like.


On Sunday, when we walked Cindy and Mark over to catch their train to Bologna, we used the opportunity to purchase our tickets all the way from Lucca to Tirano in northern Italy.  There were two advantages to doing that.  One was defensive.  Tirano sounds very similar to "Torino" (Turin), and I spelled it out for the ticket agent so that he didn't sell us tickets to somewhere different than we wanted to go.  The other benefit was that it made things easier this morning, as all we had to do was stamp our tickets.


When I had originally thought about going from Lucca to Milan, I had wondered about connecting through Pisa vs. Florence.  When I went on-line it looked like Florence was the best option, but the ticket agent connected us through Pisa, so the first leg of our journey was an easy half-hour ride, although we learned before leaving Lucca that going up stairs with the suitcases was going to be harder than going downstairs.


Half an hour after arriving in Pisa, we boarded an InterCity train for Milan.  We had no sooner found empty seats than someone came in with tickets for the same seats we were in, and we realized that this train had reserved seats.  Ours were in the next car.  The six-person compartment where our assigned seats were already had four people sitting there, so we decided to sit in an empty compartment.  At every stop for the entire four-hour trip we expected that we would have to move, but while the rest of the compartment filled up, we kept our places.


We had another half-hour layover in Milan before catching the regional train for Tirano, which was supposed to leave at 4:20 p.m.  At 4:10 the train for Tirano was listed on the departure board, but with no track listed.  I checked the printed daily schedule which indicated track 5, so we headed over that way.  As we got close we noticed three things.  The departure board was now showing track 5, the train was just pulling in, and there was a mass of humanity streaming to board the train.  We quickly figured out that this was a train that filled at the beginning of the route and then gradually emptied out, with few people boarding at subsequent stops.  We also quickly figured out that we weren't going to get a seat.  That was a major concern for Shelley, because she thought the trip was only 30 minutes.  With some hesitancy I told her that it was actually five times that.


We jumped on the train between two cars.  As we tried to load the bags a helpful man lifted them for us, and immediately wanted us to pay him.  We were in standing room between two cars (which of course wasn't air conditioned).  For the first 45 minutes Shelley stood and I alternated between standing and sitting on my suitcase.  Just yesterday morning we were talking that it might be time for me to get a new suitcase.  My current bag is an American Tourister bought under emergency conditions back in 2007, when I was visiting colleges in Texas with Arlene Ingram and Janet Adams Wall before the NACAC meeting in Austin.  My suitcase had arrived at the Austin airport falling apart, and after trying to Band-Aid it with duct tape, we were driving from Dallas to College Station when we saw an outlet mall with a luggage outlet.  It was a good purchase and has done good duty, but after I sat on it yesterday it may be ready for retirement by the time we get home.


At the second stop people in our car got off, and we quickly grabbed seats.  At that point the rest of the trip was memorable for the scenery rather than our miserable circumstances.  We travelled along the eastern shore of Lake Como with great views, then headed up into the Italian Alps, with villages stacked three high on the mountainside at some places.  At one point the train groaned to a stop for several minutes, but just for another train to pass.  When we started back up, I swear I heard the engine saying "Penso di poter, Penso di poter" ("I think I cam, I think I can"), but at that point that may have been my inner voice.


Tirano, our destination, is the end of the line for the regional train, so by the last leg of the trip the train was almost empty, a far cry from the way we began in Milan.  It was raining when we arrived, but we were overjoyed to see that our hotel is on the main square right across from the train station.  Moving day was over.

   

Leaving Lucca

As hard as it is to believe, today is our last day in Lucca.  We leave tomorrow morning by train on the final week of our adventure, headed for Zurich, Paris, and London.

On our final day, I made sure to rent a bicycle and spend an hour cycling around the wall.  The weather was great, there were a lot of people out, and the ride gave me time to reflect on our month here.  Shelley and I continued reflecting this evening during our last supper.

As I rode around the city, I thought about what a wonderful and foresighted gift it was to turn the old thick defensive walls into a city park that is enjoyed on a daily basis.  Many think the park is Lucca’s signature feature.  The park dates back to the early 1800’s and was at least partly due to the efforts of Duchess Maria Luisa, the daughter of the king of Spain, who was given authority over Lucca after Napoleon was toppled.  Under Napoleon, Lucca was ruled by his sister from 1805-1814.  Today there is a statue of Maria Luisa, the successor to Napoleonic rule in Lucca, in Piazza Napoleone, which means she has a perfect view of all the Summer Festival concerts, including the Backstreet Boys tomorrow night.

As I rode, I also contemplated Lucca’s reputation as not touristy compared with other cities in Tuscany.  There are clearly plenty of tourists here, or if they’re not tourists they do a great tourist impression, so where does that reputation come from?  I suspect it’s two things.  One is that Lucca is not a tourist destination with must-see attractions and historical places.  There is nothing to match Pisa’s Leaning Tower or Florence’s Uffizi.  The other difference is that tour groups don’t take over Lucca the way they do other Tuscan cities and towns.

That’s exactly why using Lucca as home base has been more perfect than I could have imagined when we decided to come here.  When we were in Rome I wrote about the tourist’s dilemma—quality vs. quantity.  We deliberately decided that we wanted to live in Lucca and enjoy living here with limited day trips rather than feeling like we had to be seeing something constantly.  That meant that we will leave Tuscany having not visited Florence or Siena, and plenty of knowledgeable travelers will see that as a tragic mistake, but we have no regrets about choosing to be Lucchese for a month.

Lucca’s been a perfect location to live for a month.  It’s big enough that there’s plenty to do—we could stay for a year and never eat twice at the same place—but not overwhelming.  At least once a day I’ve been moved to say, “This is very pleasant,” and it has been.  One of my goals in coming here was having some devoted time to write, and both in quality and quantity that’s been better than I hoped.  Obviously that’s been possible because Shelley has attended to managing our lives on a daily basis—meals, laundry, etc.—allowing me to focus on my writing, and I’m so grateful to her for that gift.

We will leave Lucca with lots of good memories.  Riding the wall today I passed the restaurant we went to our first week here to watch the U.S. play Germany in the World Cup, giving a gallant effort before losing 1-0 to a team that ended up winning the championship, including defeating Brazil by a score of 7-1.  We loved going to Barga, Rome, and Cinque Terre, and we loved having company, but most of all we loved living in the charming, walkable city for a month.

Very few things in life live up to expectations.  Our month in Lucca has been everything we hoped for and more.  As we leave and tackle the final week of our adventure, we’re counting on the Backstreet Boys to fill in for us tomorrow.

It’s been very pleasant.   

Rainy Days and Mondays

“Have you seen Stevie Wonder’s wife?” Cindy asked me as we walked to the train station yesterday morning.  We had just walked past the stage at Piazza Napoleone where preparations were underway for his Lucca Summer Festival concert last night.

To her great disappointment I beat her to the punch—line.  “Neither has he.”  And last night he didn’t see us, nor we him, despite our best intentions.  The weather over the weekend was the hottest we’ve had since we’ve been in Lucca, and the heat along with Cindy and Mark wore us out.  As evening approached, Shelley decided that her need to go to bed at her usual time after staying up late three nights in a row outweighed her desire to see Stevie Wonder in concert in Lucca.

This morning was twenty degrees cooler than yesterday, and it was thundering and raining hard throughout the morning, the second or third Monday in a row that it has rained.  We spent the day indoors, save for Shelley heading out to the store and going after lunch to do laundry to carry us through the rest of our time in Europe.  I spent the day writing and got a lot done.

With a couple days remaining in our Lucca adventure, we are thinking about what, if anything, we want to do while still here.  We’re also trying to use up supplies.  Shelley made spaghetti for lunch to use up the rest of the pasta, and we’re on our last roll of toilet paper.  “I’m not buying any more toilet paper,” she announced yesterday, and I promised to do my best to make that work.

On that subject, Lucca is supposedly the leading producer of toilet paper and tissue not just in Italy, but in Europe, with a monopoly on the machinery that makes it.  That’s probably a good monopoly to have, with a market share that’s not likely to disappear any time soon.  From what I’ve seen and experienced, it’s perfectly fine, but Mr. Whipple won’t stop squeezing the Charmin and transfer his allegiance to Lucca any time in the foreseeable future.  I started to suggest that we take home rolls of Luccan toilet paper as gifts and souvenirs for our friends back home, but thought better of it.

Late in the afternoon it cleared up for us to go to dinner, and we decided to go back to Osteria Via San Giorgio, the restaurant that didn’t have room for us on Saturday night. It opens for dinner at 19:00, so a few minutes we headed that way.  On Via Fillungo was a street musician playing violin in white tie and tails, and he had attracted a crowd.  We had no problem getting a table tonight, and both of us ordered fish, because the restaurant supposedly brings freshly-caught seafood from Vioreggio each day.  Shelley had cod and I had sea bass, the same thing I had when we went to Cinque Terre.  It was good, but obviously didn’t have the same ambiance, or the same taste, as when I ate it overlooking the Ligurian Sea.  But after being somewhat short with us on Saturday evening, the service and attentiveness were excellent, in the top couple of all the meals we have had in Lucca.

On our way back to the apartment we passed the violinist on his way home after his street concert, and Shelley splurged and bought me gelato, one of the things I wanted to make sure I did before we left.

Today marked four weeks in Lucca, and tomorrow is our last full day here.  We intend to enjoy every minute.  

Bologna and Bread (But Not a Bologna Sandwich)

Cindy and Mark left this morning (or technically, early this afternoon).  We walked them to the train station to catch a 12:30 train that, after changing trains in Prato, will take them to Bologna.  By tomorrow night they will be full of Bologna, but never full of bologna.

It was wonderful to see and spend time with them.  Yesterday was a relaxing day.  In the morning they and Shelley walked the wall, then explored the market, bringing home a roasted chicken, some tomatoes, and a cantaloupe for lunch.  The afternoon was filled with naps, a quick shopping trip, and an extended happy hour.

We planned to have dinner at the restaurant on Via San Giorgio we had passed on our way to dinner on Friday night.  When we arrived and confirmed that we did not have a reservation, the hostess told us to wait two minutes.  We assumed that they would use the two minutes to set up a table for us, but after two minutes the other hostess came back and told us there were no tables.  Cindy does not take “No” for an answer easily, so she went inside to negotiate, but without success.  It was the first time in our month in Lucca that we have been turned away from a restaurant.  Whether that was because it was 8 p.m., later than Shelley and I normally eat, or whether it was because it was Saturday night, or whether they just didn’t like our looks, we were out of luck.

We walked down the street another block or so, and found an outside dining area with a number of tables but only one couple dining, but we didn’t see a restaurant.  It was on the opposite corner of the little intersection, and we decided to dine there, at Locande di Bacco.

Within minutes the outdoor café area was full, and we sure exactly why?  Was it the fact that we are obvious social trendsetters, and once we sit down and give a place our imprimateur others flock to it?  Is 8 p.m. the accepted proper dining hour in Lucca? Or were all our fellow diners refugees also turned away from the first restaurant?

One of the reasons Cindy wanted to try the first place was that she wanted to try a Luccan delicacy, Farro soup.  Farro is a whole grain, often confused with spelt (the New York Times even did an investigative report on the difference).  We had it in a local beer, but hadn’t had the soup until last night.  Shelley and Cindy can now say they’ve had Farro soup (I tasted it as well), but my guess if they won’t feel the need to order it again.

During dinner we had a conversation that illustrated the differences between the Jumps and the Szadokierskis as travelers.  Both of us will be in Europe until the end of July, and then both of us will be back in Richmond for ten days before leaving again, us to go to the beach and them to go to Colorado.  Here is the difference in travel temperament.  For us ten days seems like a short time to be home; for them it seems like a long time.

I asked Cindy yesterday what was on her travel “bucket list.”  She said they would like to do another African safari, perhaps a gorilla safari in Uganda.  She’d like to go to Jordan and return to Israel.  Her last trip to Israel was when Palestine applied for membership in the United Nations, and due to heightened security concerns, she couldn’t convince even her trusted local guides to take her to Bethlehem.  She also wants to India and Myanmar, what used to be Burma.  The old Burma Shave billboards and jingles wouldn’t be as catchy if renamed Myanmar Shave.

With only three days before our time in Lucca is finished, we are thinking about what we need or want to accomplish before we leave, and we used the walk to the train station with Cindy and Mark to take care of two of them.  While there, we bought our train tickets for the trip to northern Italy and Tirano on Wednesday.  We were fourth in line after we let Cindy and Mark ahead of us when the automated ticket machine wouldn’t print out their tickets.  The three ahead of us all were frustrated or had complicated issues.  The ticket agent told Cindy and Mark that there was no record of their reservation on the computer despite the fact that they had a confirmation number, and neither of the two ahead of them left happy, so the ticker agent seemed happy to have a simple request to buy tickets. 

On the way home, we stopped for lunch at the pizza place (La Tana dell’Orco) located right up the street where a couple of weeks ago we had the best bread out of all the good bread we have had.  It wasn’t open when we passed it on the way to the train station, but by the time we passed it on the way back it was just opening, so we stopped for lunch and ordered salad.  For a few minutes it looked there might be no bread, but finally there it was.  I told the owner that his bread was the best we had tasted in Italy, but he corrected us—it’s the best in the world.  I’m willing to accept that characterization.  Man may not live by bread alone, but if there's a place you might be able to, it's Italy.  That's no bologna. 

We Learn a Thing or Two

Even though Cindy and Mark have not spent a lot of time in Lucca, they have taught us a thing or two about the city since they’ve been here. 

Before we came, we had read that Lucca is quiet at night, with not much nightlife.  That’s not an issue for us, because Shelley is generally early to bed and early to rise, and most days we have gone to dinner, returned to the apartment between 8 and 9, and then hung out reading.  The one exception was the night of the Eagles concert, and downtown was crowded and hopping.  We assumed that was related to the concert.

Now we’re not so sure.  We have been out later the past two evenings, for the concert on Thursday night and for dinner last night, and both nights there was a lot going on.  It was after 11 when we walked back to the apartment two night ago, and more like 10:30 last night, and both nights the streets were filled with people, with a fair number of stores, not just gelateria, open and doing business.  It wasn’t loud or crazy, just active and kind of fun.

Cindy and Mark also expanded our geographical awareness, and as a result our culinary experience.  For dinner most nights Shelley and I have been walking around and picking a place that looks interesting, never eating at the same place twice, and just the other night I wondered out loud if there were streets and areas off the main shopping area that we had missed.

Yesterday Cindy and Mark were researching restaurants using TripAdvisor.com, and found a place a short walk from here that looked interesting, Osteria da Pasquale.  Pasquale is the owner, and the website gave him high marks for his personal touch and involvement in everything that happens at the restaurant.  They tried to find it during the afternoon while out shopping but couldn’t, but as reservations were recommended, we decided to check it out on our way to dinner last night in hopes of eating there tonight.  We took a right off Via Fillungo onto Via San Giorgio, one of the first right turns  as we walk down Fillungo from our apartment. Like many Lucca streets, it looks more like an alley than any kind of a thoroughfare, and when you look down it there are no obvious shops or cafes, so I’m not sure we’ve ever been down there. 

Osteria da Pasquale is located on a little side street, and I’m not sure we would have noticed it had we not had the address and been looking for it.  The outdoor dining area is in the back, so not easily seen.  We were planning to just check it out, but the owner led us back and seated us at a table for five, as he thought we had reservations.  When he learned we were not that party, he moved us to a different table where the group was half an hour late.  Of course thirty seconds later they showed up, so we moved to our third table in two minutes.

Pasquale was our server, and gave us good care and advice about everything from our wine choice to which antipasti to choose.  He strongly suggested that we order the chef’s special of five small appetizers, so we ordered one of those and eggplant parmisan for the girls.  For the main course Cindy and Shelley ordered fish, Mark had ravioli, and I ordered the sirloin steak with mushrooms.  I find it interesting that the couple of times I’ve ordered beef it comes already sliced, whereas every time I’ve had pizza I’ve had to slice it myself, the complete opposite of what you would find in the United States.  All of it was good, including the small complimentary desserts that were brought out at the end of the meal, just enough of a taste to complete the evening.  Or almost complete the evening.  As we were paying and walking out, Pasquale offered us a taste, closer to a glass, of 50-year old Grappa, an Italian brandy made from the seeds, stalks, and stems of grapes used in making wine.  Shelley and I settled for a sip, and it was smooth and strong.

It was a great official ending to a good day, although Cindy, Mark, and I went into overtime if not overdrive, staying up til 1 a.m. to talk and have a nightcap.

We were worried that our life in Lucca wasn’t exciting  or busy enough for our guests, and I’ll leave it to them whether or not that is in fact the case, but I think they actually enjoyed a little down time after their flight the previous day.  I asked them at dinner if they had learned to put up with the constant travel from experience or whether they were born more able to tolerate the travel than Shelley and I are.  Whatever the answer, they used the first part of the day to catch up on sleep and reading, then walked around the wall with Shelley.  We went out for a late lunch, where I caught grief for choosing a Coke as my beverage and got a picture taken by Cindy labeling me a wimp.  Fortunately I long ago became comfortable with my wimpiness and am not easily embarrassed.

The one unresolved issue yesterday was that Randolph-Macon College, the alma mater for all of us other than Mark (U.Va.), recently sent out a mailing asking alumni to put pictures from locations around the globe on the Randolph-Macon Facebook page with the Randolph-Macon banner prominently displayed.  We’re trying to make sure they have one of the Lucca YellowJackets.  

Cindy and Mark Come to Lucca

The Szadokierski world tour has arrived in Lucca.  Our friends Cindy and Mark arrived Thursday to spend a long weekend with us, and it is great to have company, but especially great to have them.

Cindy and Mark might legitimately be called world travelers and maybe even jet setters.  Both are retired from United Airlines, and Cindy’s last job was Vice President of International Airport Operations.  Prior to that she was in charge of United’s operations at O’Hare Airport in Chicago.  She has visited six continents (all but Antarctica), 75 countries, and in her last year working for United flew 4 MILLION miles.  She was the first person I contacted for suggestions when we started planning this trip, and Lucca was among the places in Italy that she listed as worth investigating.

I have known Cindy since her freshman year in college at Randolph-Macon.  She and Shelley were among the pioneers on Randolph-Macon’s first varsity women’s basketball team at a time when women’s basketball was just taking off as an intercollegiate sport.  I was just out of college and was the assistant coach for that team, which built a foundation for the teams that have followed at Randolph-Macon, including one that played for the national Division 3 championship nearly ten years ago.  When Billy Wood and I were given permission to start a varsity team in the spring of 1977, we hustled trying to find girls (make that women) interested in coming to Randolph-Macon and playing basketball. 

They, and we, had to overcome a lot of ignorance about females and athletics.  Early on, an athletic administrator told us that we couldn’t expect females to be serious about sports, that they would never come to practice on a regular basis.  What made that comment troubling was that it came from a female athletic administrator.  That first group of basketball players proved the doubters wrong.  They worked hard, had a winning record in their first season, even defeating the University of Richmond, and by the time Shelley and Cindy were seniors, they played for the state small-college championship.  But what I appreciate most about that group is what great people they are and how close they’ve remained with each other through the years.

Once we knew we were coming to Lucca, we invited friends and family to join us, but all along we thought that Cindy and Mark would be the most likely to accept, with the only issue being whether they could fit us into their busy travel schedule.  They sold their house in Chicago back in the spring and are living in Richmond temporarily while building a house at Southport on the North Carolina coast.  The last month has been quiet for them, as they have only travelled to Maine, Florida, and Connecticut, but after leaving here on Sunday they will head to Bologna in Italy and Bordeaux, Strasbourg, Colmar, and Paris in France, all between now and the end of July.  Cindy is particularly looking forward to seeing Strasbourg, because she grew up in Strasburg in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley.  I’m guessing her home town and its French namesake don’t have much else in common.  Between now and the end of the year they will travel to Mexico, Australia, Vietnam, and Cambodia.   

Cindy and Mark spend a fair amount of time in Cambodia because of a charity they are involved with, A New Day Cambodia.  They are also just becoming involved in a second Cambodian charity based in Richmond, 100 Pounds of Hope, which was started by a Khmer Rouge survivor who now lives in Richmond.

They arrived by train Thursday afternoon at 4:15.  We were going to pick them up and walk them back to the apartment, and it was a bright, sunny day, but an hour before we were supposed to leave, we heard a rumble that sounded a lot like thunder.  Shelley thought it must be some workmen moving something, until it kept rumbling more frequently and more ominously.  It started to pour just after three, but amazingly cleared up right before it was time to walk over.

We were assuming that they had been to Lucca and would have a list of things they wanted to do and places they wanted to see, but it turns out they have been to Lucca only once, for a day.  Once we arrived at the apartment and got settled, we took them for a drink at one of the cafes in Piazza Anfiteatro, and then we went to eat at another café located right by the venue for the Lucca Summer Festival, where Elisa and Rufus Wainwright were playing.  Elisa is an Italian pop singer who is very popular in Italy, but I had never heard of her (I apologize if she is a huge worldwide pop star and I am the only person unaware of her and her music).  I had heard of Rufus Wainwright, and vaguely remembered that he is the son of two folksingers, Loudon Wainwright III and Kate McGarrigle. 

When J.D. was here we had a conversation about entertainers who choose to go by only a first name and how presumptuous and risky that is. You can get away with it if your name is Cher or Sting or Lassie, but otherwise you run the risk that common folks like me have no clue who you are.  .  When I was young (this will truly date me) there was a TV show set in high school called “Room 222,” and the cast credits at the end of each episode included “Heshimu as Jason.”  I thought that was cool, and during high school aspired to be referred to by a single name.  My first choice was “Mobutu,” until I realized it was already taken by the corrupt dictator of the Congo.  In looking him up online I discovered that his full name was Mobutu Sese Seko Ngbendu Wa Zabenga. He should be forgiven him shortening his name to a single name, but not for his corruption and cruelty.

Dinner, the conversation, and the music were all good.  I can’t say that I recognized any of the songs I heard, other than a duet of “Hallelujah” at the end.  Cindy thought she recognized a couple.  As I find myself saying on a daily basis, it was very pleasant.

 

Blogger's Notebook

The streak has officially ended—at one.  While it fell just short of matching Joe DiMaggio’s 56-game hitting streak (which ironically ended on this date 73 years ago), we watched it with interest and anticipation night after night.

The streak involved Shelley’s attempt to pay for dinner each night using our Discover credit card.  Discover has been the card of choice because, unlike other credit cards, there isn’t a surcharge for using it, whereas VISA charges 3% each time. So every night after dinner Shelley pulls out the Discover, and with the exception of a couple of times right after we arrived, the response every night after the server runs it through the machine is that the restaurant doesn’t take Discover. When Shelley called customer service after it was denied the first time, the service rep made it sound like there must be something wrong with the restaurant, but subsequent calls turned up the truth-- Discover is trying to break into the market in Italy (or maybe Europe).  Anyway, the other night we were pleased that Discover went through no questions asked at the restaurant where we were dining, but the streak has ended.

We leave Lucca in less than a week, which is hard to believe, and have company coming later today for the weekend, so I’m using the cheap trick journalists use when they have nothing to write about.  I’m using this post to empty my notebook with some random things I’ve noticed on the streets of Lucca.

            --Among the stores on Via Fillungo are a couple that might be found in any suburban American mall, FootLocker and GameStop.

            --Another store on the same street pays homage to American culture.  It is the Generale Lee, named for the car from The Dukes of Hazzard.  Bo, Luke, Cousin Daisy, and Boss Hogg were apparently mainstays of Italian television at one point, because I’ve also seen a Dukes of Hazzard t-shirt in a souvenir store.  It’s good to know that much of the world gets its information about what America is really like through our cultural exports.

            --The most famous shop on Via Fillungo appears to be closed. Di Café Simo was the long-time hangout for Lucca’s intellectual and artistic elite, and the place where Puccini went for his daily coffee.

            --The most interesting place on Via Fillungo is right around the corner from our apartment, and is not a store.  It’s the Museo della Tortura, the Museum of Torture.  I thought about going in so I could write a blog post about it, but we’ve walked past it numerous times, seen only a couple of people go in—and no one coming out.  I’ll put it on the to-do list for our next trip.

            --When we were in Rome I wrote about the street musicians.  In Lucca there was a street musician the other day playing cello.

            --The other evening, we passed the Lucca centurion who poses for pictures with tourists (the one painted in white, not the one in Rome talking on his cell phone).  He was engaged in conversation with a guy who looked like he might be homeless, but was taking off his helmet and apparently calling it a day without regard for the fact that he was standing in the middle of Piazza San Michele, at the busiest intersection in town.

            --The same evening we saw a new twist on bicycling in the streets of Lucca, a new variation on the tandem bike.  Twice we saw someone riding one bike and steering another bike at the same time.  I'm hoping they were returning two bikes to a bike rental place.