A trip up into the vineyards. This is the true Tuscany. Everywhere large, colourful mansions dot the hillsides, overlooking their expanses of neatly terraced vineyards or olive groves … almost overlapping with their neighbours. Tall, dark pencils of cypresses accentuating the spring green of deciduous woods. I don’t think either of us expected Tuscany to be this lush. Even under cloudy skies, the greens were almost luminous … the blood-red poppies (just beginning to appear along the roadsides and crumbly walls) created brilliant splashes of colour.

There were endless unspoiled towns and hamlets to explore … rustic churches … cottage gardens overflowing with deliciously fragrant rambling roses or purple and white wisteria … tiny hump-backed bridges over weed-filled streams … vocal guard dogs from behind fences – sounding quite vicious as they rattled the gates. Seems everyone has an Attenti al cani (Beware of Dog) notice on their property. We’d just ambled passed one sleepy bar with a few stolid men sitting over their drinks, who eyed us with some curiosity … we offered up a cheerful Buon Giorno in their general direction and actually got a chorus of replies. Things are looking up! The pedestrian-only main street was a cornucopia of houses in coloured plaster, ancient stone or a wonderful chunky almost pink rock …each with newly-painted dark green shutters … the kind that bend outwards on the lower half. A weather-worn door, for reasons unknown, clung precariously to its second floor wall — no steps or balcony to offset the sudden drop!

A diminutive personage materialized from a nearby house, wearing a blue T-shirt with the word “STAFF” written in large letters across the back — he seemed most interested in learning where we were from. With no English, just our rather abysmal Italian … introductions were made (he was Tony) and we struck up a conversation. He seemed delighted to learn we were from Canada (no we didn’t speak much French in our part). We chatted about the sudden drop in temperature and rain (we were used to that!) … good for his garden. He opened two massive iron gates and showed us his plot. Piselli (peas) already with full pods – he thrust some into our hands. Bushes of Fava beans (again we got samples) … spiky artichokes like giant thistles .. lettuces … onions and garlic … newly planted rows of potatoes … and a lemon picked right off the tree. He was just off to work (never did find out where he was STAFF to), but to Glen’s delight he opened a shed door to reveal a rusty and well-used green Ape truck. With a clatter of exhaust, Tony fired up the machine and after shaking our hands, disappeared up the road with a wave and an acrid cloud of black smoke.

Lucca’s tallest tower is the Torre Guinigi with its cap of growing Holm Oaks. There used to be around 250 towers, but now only 9 remain within the walls of the city … still plenty in the surrounding area though. Seven oaks grace the top – one for each of Francesco Guinigi’s sons <I’ll let you into a secret, there are actually eleven oaks – four are small saplings growing under their bigger brethren, in case something happens to the originals>. Two hundred and thirty steps to the top — thankfully now on the inside, but they used to be outside! — and three hundred and sixty degrees of view around the whole city … all beautifully shaded by the trees, even on the hottest day. Quite a sight. When Napoleon raided the city back in the early 1800’s he gave the city to his sister Elisa, and it was she who maintained the walls and planted the avenues of trees all around them. Still enjoyed daily by locals and tourists alike … morning and evening joggers … dog walkers … hundreds of bike riders … or simply sitting on benches or grassy areas to eat a lunch.

Two things in Italy are … a bit of a challenge. One is recycling. There are a series of coloured plastic bins, which can be stacked one inside the other … rather like Ukrainian nesting dolls. Collection days vary from place-to-place, but here in Lucca the Brown bins for organic kitchen waste are put out on Tuesday and Friday nights (collected in the early morning); White on Wednesday (paper & cardboard); Thursday is grey (the stuff no-one wants); Sunday is Green for glass and Yellow for mixed recyclables goes out on Mondays … the list of acceptable items for each is quite lengthy and particular – Styrofoam is OK for recyclables; grocery till tapes, however, are not paper. (The only thing I wonder about is do they ACTUALLY recycle this stuff … or does it all get dumped into one giant receptacle behind the scenes <grin>)

Street parking is the other issue. You have to be VERY observant. Blue signs with a red cross mean No Parking – sometimes there are times listed but if it’s 0-24, then you’re out of luck. Lines along the curbs come in three colours: blue is for paid parking – usually limited to a few hours; yellow is strictly for residents (permit required); and white is free BUT there are catches. You have to walk to the beginning of that street and look up at the sign, haul out your phone to do a bit of translating/calculating on Google calendar to determine what is and isn’t allowed. We scouted the area on foot before picking up the car. The road in front of us has no restrictions, but as you can imagine it’s ALWAYS full of cars, literally shoe-horned in. There’s a large parking area about an 8 minute walk away, but on the 2nd and 4th Saturdays of each month you cannot park there between 6:30-9:30 am for street cleaning purposes. A few roads over it’s the 1st and 3rd Wednesdays of each month, and so on. And then there are the ZTL zones! Mostly in the old, historical, narrow-laned town centres … they’ll sometimes have a well-marked sign but often it’s just a round, white sign with a red rim sign stuck to the side of a building. These are no-go areas, unless you actually live there. Many an unwary visitor has overlooked said sign, and a year or two later received a ticket (it takes a while to filter through the red tape of car rental, police forms, etc!).

Lucchese are very proud of their home-grown composer – Giacomo Puccini. Since 2004, this is the only place in the world where concerts of his music are performed every evening at 7pm throughout the year. Sometimes it’s just his music or operas – other days they mix in Verdi or Mozart. With a company of almost 60 professional opera singers, 4 accompanists, 2 symphony orchestras, 2 choirs, 4 conductors and an official web tv channel … it’s a going concern.

It was to be Puccini and Verdi the evening we went – with selections from Tosca, Aida, Madame Butterfly, Il Trovatore, Turandot and others … it was a mix of familiar and less well known. Just a small venue, seating maybe 70 -80 … it began to fill as 7pm approached. The accompanist in bow tie and evening jacket came in and adjusted the piano/music/seat, etc. The music director dashed in an out. A rotund fellow in a light blue leisure suit with open-necked shirt wandered across the stage before disappearing behind a screen. “Do you suppose he’s the tenor?” whispered Glen (he certainly had the physique). Never liking to be right in the front, we sat in the third row with a good view of the stage. At the last moment, however, two large individuals squeezed in plonked themselves down. Ah well.

Mezzosoprano Maria Salvini swept onto the stage in a gorgeous black sequined dress – every inch the glamourous performer, and with a voice to match. Coy, sultry, vivacious as the music dictated — brilliant. Turned out our fellow in the blue suit was the tenor … and what a voice … almost lifted the roof and made your ears ring. The buttons on his waistcoat straining valiantly (somehow his last name Spratt didn’t seem to fit). It was a beautiful setting and very enjoyable interlude … with only one negative … the two in front who videoed and photographed the whole way through. Incredibly distracting when phones are held at eye level. Even after tapping the man on the shoulder and politely asking him to put his phone away … he merely lowered it two inches, and continued. We did get a final chuckle though. As everyone stood to applaud, her phone slid to the floor unnoticed (I was sorely tempted to slide it further … but didn’t!). There was a frantic flap as she realized it was missing .. pushing her husband/partner out of his seat .. shaking out coats .. even turning to glare at us as though we had some part in it. It was difficult to keep a straight face.

The two neighbourhood shops have become regular haunts: Mr. ‘Salumieri’ next door for his ravioli … he’s a quiet gentleman, always smiling and nothing is too much trouble as he prepares cuts of meat to a customer’s preference; Mr. & Mrs. ‘Alimentari Frutta e Verdura’ every morning for the world’s BEST pane Franchese (baguette) wrapped in plain brown paper. I don’t know which bakery he gets them from, but you can’t wait to cut into that exquisite crusty interior and slather on some butter and marmalade. After that first crunchy bite, there’s an almost indescribable ‘gritty’ sensation as everything melds into the soft interior. Oh how we’ll miss this.

Well, we HAD planned to catch the Lucca Saturday market before we left. The website said it closed at one, but stalls were packed and gone before noon. So … onto plan B. Black thunder clouds were gathering behind us … blue skies towards the coast … it was a no brainer. Head for Viareggio … back roads, of course, with a stop in Pietrasanta on the way. After last night’s heavy rain, everything glistened in the sun and the air was crystal clear. As we cruised around one corner, the ground dropped away and the whole valley lay spread beneath. “There’s nowhere to pull over and take a photo!” I wailed. Halfway down there was a miniature layby … a quick u-turn and we returned to the top. I don’t think photos will really do justice to that view, but I did my best. This is a real biking mecca … there are literally dozens of spandex-encased cyclists struggling up or whizzing down the steep switchbacks … and with those views, it’s no wonder. Camaiore has been the finish line of the Giro d’italia several times … a training spot for Italy’s national cycling team and various world time trials. Right across the road is the Mangia e Bevi caffe the Eat and Drink Cafe https://mangia-bevi-bike-cafe.webnode.it/ advertising a daily ‘Biker’s Menu’ .. but also offering a wide range of Bruschette, pasta, pizza. After the dismal bruschetta in Catania we were determined to try again. REALLY glad we did. Thin slices of light, toasty bread (the size of a dinner plate) swathed in fresh, chunky tomato sauce, diced cherry tomatoes, capers and a thin slice of marinated anchovy. (Are you hungry yet?) Complemented with steaming cups of rich, thick cioccolato caldo (hot chocolate similar to the Spanish version) and a couple of pastries. The owner … rather like a scaled-down version of Brian Blessed, but with much less of a thunderous bellow (!) … spoke no English, but perhaps our Italian is improving because we had an interesting chat about his extensive menu. He seemed pleased we enjoyed our lunch, and I’m sure he was hoping we’d return for dinner — claiming his pizzas put those of Naples to shame … he was probably right too.

Down towards the coast is Pietrasanta – a real art hub, which has attracted notable artists from all over the world – including Henry Moore … it still has over 50 marble workshops and bronze foundries … the results of which you can see as sculptures scattered throughout town. Quirky and unusual blending with ancient and historical … e.g. the Civic tower in the city square … alongside a 2024 sculpture of a jet black Teddy bear. The thunder clouds which had been slowly encroaching arrived with resounding claps, and large drops of rain thudded down. We dashed for the car..

There was still a bit of blue sky along the coast near Viarregio, so once again we set off in hot pursuit. LOTS of beach resorts along the sea front … too many to count … in fact very few beaches are available for public use. Approaching Viareggio, grand old hotels lovingly restored to former glory lined the road – reminiscent of old seaside towns around the UK. The harbour area is an interesting mix of waterways, marinas, old fishing boats and Super Yachts. Viareggio has become the world’s leading builder of Mega Yachts … and there were definitely some huge, sleek and shiny ones to be seen. Quite a contrast to the shabby but characterful fishing skiffs next door. The old brick wall behind them had four faces of Neptune or Lions with rings, which fishermen had obviously used many years ago to tie up to.

Arriving ‘home’ for the last time (we leave for Panzano in the morning), what should we find right outside the front door … but the perfect parking space. Perhaps a parting gift.

That’s the trouble with having a train station mere minutes away … it’s so easy to leave things to the last minute! “Did you feel like going to Pisa this morning?” asked Glen (it was 10:20, the train left at 10:42 … and we still needed tickets)…. “we could just make it”. Raced into the station … <the train had just pulled in> … ticket machine … credit card …. quick, quick, print the tickets …. validate. Phew, we made it with seconds to spare. On buses and trains it’s essential to validate tickets otherwise there are hefty fines to pay … and saying you didn’t know doesn’t hold any water, as two ladies from Scotland recently found out when they were discovered by a bus inspector …. 120 euros later! Buses have validating machines inside, but train tickets have to be validated BEFORE the train leaves the station. So I have to laugh when minutes AFTER the trip has begun, a voice comes over the PA system announcing just that. Erm, isn’t it already a bit late?

The city of Pisa is like a quieter, less busy, more comfortable Florence … Florence as it probably was a couple of decades ago. Greeting all comers to the city is the wonderful, portly and rather pompous figure of King Vittorio Emanuel II … with his magnificent plumed hat, gargantuan moustache and cape … all he’s missing is a pigeon on top! Gracing both sides of the Arno River as it meanders through town … rows of elegant buildings resplendent in yellows, golds and ochres … all with complementary shutters. A beautifully decorated sienna brown one leaned slightly into its neighbour while a blue one (Piazzo blu) across the river stood out from the rest. It was an art museum, and well worth a visit. Two local artists were being showcased … however the work of Giovanni Chiaramonti was singularly good. Oil on canvas, the colours were vibrant and engaging. The museum housed many other accomplished artists – my particular favourite was Gherardo Poli https://www.invaluable.com/auction-lot/gherardo-poli-1674-1739-capriccio-con-approdo-flu-27-c-13040fe8c7 … if you hover your mouse over the painting, you can view sections in more detail. There must’ve been at least a dozen of his throughout. They are the kind of painting you can look at for years and still see something new, and the characters are riotous. Also in the museum was a fine example of a 19th century nobleman’s house – games room, study/library, music room, dining room … you had to keep looking up because the ceilings were magnificently painted … an extensive coin collection, and quite stunning examples of ancient pottery in remarkable condition.

A true craft market across the way – with tasteful offerings in wood, metal and fabric … overseen by a statue of Garibaldi. An almost-missed sign pointed to Pisa’s old subterranean public baths (Bagni Pubblici). These weren’t your modern banks of grotty toilets with hard-faced attendants giving you the eye and demanding a euro for each use … no, these consisted of rows and rows of individual rooms with proper old-fashioned baths and squat toilets which people had used years ago for their weekly ablutions. And are still open today for those in need of ‘a visit’ (modern toilet) — a bargain too, at only 0.50 euro.

Further along the river a tiny forgotten church blocking the sidewalk – looking completely out-of-place with its surroundings with its intricate Gothic decorations. Santa Maria della Spina. Originally built in 1230 as a Sailor’s prayer hall, it was moved to this location to prevent it sinking into the mud. Away from the river uncrowded and lovely old Plazas with a real community feel .. like the one we sat in while savouring a pistachio gelato — hand made by the shop owner’s husband. Shame the peacefulness changed as you approached The Tower and Duomo once more, and vendors hustled for custom in already busy sidewalk cafes, We didn’t stop this time, just hurried on through to the train station and home. It had been another most enjoyable day.

Buses and trains are wonderfully efficient, but if you want to do more than one place in a day, a car is the answer. We have a little Fiat 500 in dark petrol blue … cute as a button … and fun to drive (says Glen). Here are some of the hillside villages and amazing bridges we’ve visited — in no particular order.

In Borgo a Mozzano is the Ponte della Maddalena, also known as Devil’s Bridge https://www.visittuscany.com/en/attractions/the-devils-bridge/ A magnificent high arched span that you can walk across. There’s some story about engaging the devil’s help to construct the bridge in exchange for the soul of the first person across. Some jiggery pokery through hurling a piece of bread across and attracting a ravenous dog instead … the Devil was neatly tricked out of his soul. Whatever the case, it was a beautiful spot to sit and have our lunch, and peer over the edge at the green water below.

Up in the hills a tiny towered village caught our attention. “Wonder if we could get up there?” pondered Glen. There was a likely-looking road off to the right, so we proceeded up … and up … and up. Some time later at the top a few industrious road workers cheerfully moved their equipment out of the way so we could pass. Alighting from the car into Fiattone there was nothing but bird song and a gentle rustling of leaves. The old stone buildings oozed their centuries of history … succulents and spring flowers sprang up in unexpected corners, and the views went on forever.

Two dirt tracks led out of the village … one steeply down (obviously to a farm way below) the other off to the right, Glen and Miss Google both claimed could lead through to the next village. There was a bus stop, but I was dubious. And rightly so! The ‘road’ became nothing more than a goat track, and even Miss Google abandoned us! But how to turn around? I got out, and gingerly Glen reversed keeping between the sudden drop off and a high bank. After what seemed like a 23 point turn and a good deal of furious scrabbling to dig out the driver’s side rear bumper (um, is that rear passenger side tire supposed to be a foot off the ground?) … we got turned around. A touch too much adventure, me thinks.

Two small villages – Castiglione di Garafagnana and Castelnuova di Garafagnana both had sturdy fortress walls with amazing turrets … in one town square, a metal sculpture Don Quixote-style of knight and dragon and a wall that looked distinctly like it belonged in a Road Runner Cartoon … in the other, a high Fortress with wild clumps of wallflowers growing out of the wall and smelling deliciously in the evening air. A gang of young children played hide and seek through the maze of nooks and alley ways … their voices echoing happily. No sitting inside on computers!

On our way back from picking up the car in Prato we took some of the less traveled routes, going wherever the car’s nose pointed. Although the day had started overcast and threatened rain, the afternoon brought out the sun as we wended our way along dappled, tree-lined avenues in Prunetta and the pretty town of Petaglia on it’s crag overlooking the dense, green valley and the town of Polpiglio nestled into a fold opposite. We were the only ‘outsiders’ so drew some curious glances, especially from one old guy leaning on his walking stick. Even a smile and a “buon giorno” didn’t bring a response … but then I’ve noticed that a lot in Italy, with older men in particular — it’s difficult to get past that inscrutable expression. You have no idea if they are angry, disgusted or indifferent … perhaps all three (grin). Women, on the other hand, will always answer or offer help.

Most eateries tend to close for an afternoon break around 2:00, so when we found a Bistrot just outside Pestoia still open for business, and a handy parking spot, we dived in. Somewhere between a deli, a take out, a cafe and store, there was an enormous selection of homemade dishes arrayed in the refrigerated display counter. Vast containers of Lasagna, polenta, gnocchi … huge round meatballs smothered in tomato sauce … salads of simmered mushrooms or peppers … one with barley and vegetables. Although the owner’s English was sketchy (and our Italian even worse), several of the customers leapt in with translations and suggestions. One is supposed to set one’s own table with brown paper place mats and cutlery, then wait for the food to be reheated (if hot) and brought to the table. Everything was absolutely delicious – but especially the lasagna and mushrooms. “There’re desserts”, I prompted. Sure enough a display case groaned with a large apple cake, an apricot crostada, crunchy chocolate confections, plus dishes of creme brulee and tiramisu. We opted for apple cake and a tiramisu to share. Both good … but the tiramisu was outstanding … quite unlike any other. None of your light whipped cream and dustings of cocoa powder … this was rich and dense with creme Anglaise, delicate cake, chunks of chocolate and a shot of hot espresso poured over at the last minute. Indescribably delicious. We rolled out of there satiated and mellow. https://www.algustogiusto.it/gastronomia-rosticceria-pistoia/ scroll down for great pictures.

The way home took us through the dramatic Bagni di Lucca gorge … 27 tiny communities form this “bathroom of Lucca” region – most straggle gayly along both sides of the river – and it’s actually difficult to see where one ends and another begins. Steep, narrow, verdant with the river Lima tumbling along the bottom. Slow and serene when we were there, but after heavy rains it becomes a worrying torrent, thundering down and threatening to burst its banks. Trails and rafting tours are popular, but the main attraction are the variety of bridges which cross over. Although not officially part of Bagni di Lucca (it’s on the Serchio river), it’s generally accepted that the Ponte della Maddalena is included. The bridges vary in shape and design … from suspension to wood to stone. There’s a particularly impressive one at Catene — the first wood and iron bridge in Italy. Built by the same guy who erected the aqueduct near us (Lorenzo Nottolini). When the original stone bridge was washed out in 1840, he traveled to England and was so impressed with Hammersmith Bridge and the Clifton Suspension bridge, he copied their construction.