An Easter walk in Lucca

Easter Sunday we drove from Barga to the coastal town of Cecina to have lunch with another of Anthony's relatives. It was a spectacular meal and we tried our best to do it justice. 

When we left later in the evening, buttons and zippers working rather hard, we wondered if the feeling of hunger would ever return. We decided to stop in the old (and by "old" I really mean "founded by  Etruscans in B.C. times") city of Lucca on the way back to Barga and take a stroll around. Having gotten rather acclimated to the desolation of Swiss towns on weekends and holidays, I expected the place to be deserted.

WRONG. There were people everywhere. It was great. Shops were open, families milling about. Very festive. We waddled through the streets taking everything in, musing at the restaurants setting up for dinner. Because...how could anyone in the Euro-verse still be hungry?

Lucca is known for many things: intact Renaissance-era walls surrounding the city, a circular piazza and this, the Torre Guinigi which has oak trees growing on the roof. Unfortunately it wasn't open, but we spent a completely acceptable amount of time staring in wonder at the trees suspended far above our heads.

Did I mention we were stuffed from lunch?

Oh, I did?

Well, really, I mean...we just had lunch you see. Not dinner. No one wants to wake up in the middle of the night going "oh man, if only I had some of that delicious Lucca ice cream." So this was really an insurance policy more than anything else.

Inside the piazza. An number of the buildings have curved outer walls.

The city walls are now used as a promenade with a different type of tree planted along each of the four sides. We were pretty bushed by this point, so we did not walk them, but the phrase "next time" was used with some frequency on the drive back to Barga. There will be a next time.

I'm already waiting for  it.

To top off the day, we were treated to a magnificent sunset. As it had rained pretty steadily since we arrived in Italy, the sight of blue sky was most welcome.

Sports Section: The Italian Family Dinner

Guys, I like to eat. Love it in fact, there's not much that makes me happier than sitting down to a great meal. And, not to brag, but I can kind of hold my own at the dinner table. Now that we've gotten the foreshadowing taken care of, onto the main event.

On Saturday, we were invited by one of Anthony's cousins, Maria Olympia (can we please agree that this is the best name ever? She's the one standing up with the great smile) to a late lunch at their home just outside the walls of Barga. They were so welcoming and kind and when we sat down to eat I was pretty flipping happy.

The food was incredible, but I quickly learned that eating a true Italian meal is not a sport for the faint of heart. As my pasta dish was refilled again and again as if by magic I began to feel as though I had shown up to a marathon, without ever having run before. My brain began to cloud, my arm moved on autopilot. Cake from an old family recipe? Yes please. More wine? But of course. Thirds on the rosemary potatoes? Please get in my mouth right now. And on it went. Bite after delicious bite.

Somewhere around my fifth glass of wine, I began oscillating between a floaty warm ball of pasta happy place and a fluffy pillow of cake happy place. At that moment, Maria Olympia's husband leaned over and said "so, do you guys want to see my guns?"

UM...YES.

Above I give you Anthony, renegade killer of boars. Or at least he will be in September when he comes back to go hunting. I will be at home trying unsuccessfully to control my jealousy.

Anthony and his other cousin, Ivo. Owner of a very cool jacket.

After we had digested to the point at which movement was no longer painful, we took a trip over to see some property that Maria Olympia had inherited. 

Above, an outbuilding on the land.

The house was in rather (charmingly) rough shape, but the property was beautiful. 

Rolling hills with a great view of Barga in the distance.

All in all, a great day.

A walking tour of Barga (with sporadic text accompaniment)

We spent our four-day Easter weekend in Barga, a teeny little hilltop town in Tuscany where Anthony's maternal family hails from. Since coming to Europe, I have gotten to see many beautiful things, but I was not prepared for the incredible charm that fills this place.

There is only one place to stay within the city walls - the Casa Fontana. It is amazing.

The owners were very kind and offered us a drink in their garden before we set out to explore. I showed everyone a magic trick with the amaretti cookies above. One minute the cookies were there and one blink later, the cookies were gone. And I was furtively brushing crumbs off my shirt. Magic.

Our window looked out onto one of the many little winding streets that make up Barga. 

I don't know the proper term for these little alcoves, but they were all over the place. I documented as many as I could find - this is one of the um...classier variety as it lacks the Christmas lights and glow in the dark stickers that adorn the more contemporary Mary Abodes.

The streets are so small, that most cars can't drive within the walls. Now and then we came across teeny little vintage cars, like this Fiat. Note to self, buy a vintage Fiat. Grey with red interior and white steering wheel. It can be friends with the Mini. Like a sidekick.

The tiled floor leading up to our room. We spent quite a long time just staring at it, trying to figure out how long it would take the owners to notice if we chiseled it up and took it home with us. In the end, our consciences got the better of us and we left the floor as is. Also we had forgotten to pack a chisel.

We wandered down to the market and perused the vendors. The food is much cheaper in Italy than Lausanne, so we indulged (in everything but most specifically) in a giant wedge of aged pecorino. Let me say that again for dramatic effect, Giant. Wedge. of Aged. Pecorino. I think this place may be heaven. We're only about a third of the way through it, which is good, because as soon as it's gone, we're going to have to drive the 5.5 hours back and get more. I will not let this cheese out of my life. EVER.

Banners in people's windows for the evening's Easter celebration (which we missed because, well, we had stuffed our faces indulged at dinner and fell into massive food comas).

The view from the highest point of the city.

So, the Duomo. Built in the 11th century, an example of Romanesque architecture, iconic landmark of Barga...aaaaaand kinda ominous on the inside. I guess in the 11th century, glass was not really available, so they were like "yeah, sure, natural light is fine, but you know what's better? ROCKS." 

In all fairness though, the few windows that do exists are paned in very thin sheets of stone. How they created this in Thee Olden Dayes is beyond me. 

I think the moss covered car thing (©2012 Kimberly Van Ness All Rights Reserved If You Steal This Idea I Will Hunt You Down) would be a big seller in Portland.

I need an ape (ah-pey) in my life stat. This is a matter of critical importance. Think of all the cool things I could do with it: carry groceries, move very small items of furniture...hang out with my (as of yet imaginary) Fiat...it would be my sidekick's sidekick.

And this is the part where I leave you with some lovely wall texture and go to work. Lots more pictures to share this week.

Happy Monday!