Culture after industry -- Lucca -- Saturday, 11 Aprile

Saturday wasn't only about about Piaggio, as we still had Lucca to reach and visit for the evening. We had a room outside the walled (intact from the Renaissance) city on the river Serchio. Strange to think that after all the riding from la Spezia to Pisa to Piaggio (I mean Pontedera) to Lucca...that we were still only a half hour by car from the Tuscan coast.

Once inside the city proper, we enjoyed our typical walkabout and then sat at a bar/cafe to sip wine and taste complimentary aperitifs (since it was the afternoon time when the cucina is chiuso) -- this one reminding us that Italy is not in the Renaissance still, what with a the staff and their friends (and little ones) enjoying 70s disco while watching the people pass in the piazza. We joined in the late afternoon reverie, and I even did a little disco with the young waiter during one song that made me smile rather than groan with bad memories of junior high. 

At the suggestion of my sister-in-law Jane, we completed our evening with some opera. Lucca is the birthplace of composer Giacomo Puccini, and there is a concert of his (and other) pieces every night of the year at one location or another. Tonight's performance was "a night at the opera" with an alto and tenor taking turns, accompanied by a captivating pianist, at the 12th century San Giovani Bascilica. It was a treat overall, and added some even more variety to our day's experiences.

Cathedral of San Martino

The next morning, we did enjoy a ride atop the wall for a time as we made our way to the river and our route out of town. Lots of local walkers and runners taking advantage of the citiy's great situation too! So many others that we didn't want to take any photos, feeling too touristy that early in the morning. But it was indeed pretty cool.

Piaggio-- aka Vespa -- Saturday, 11 Aprile,

While our trip is mostly an excuse for, and inspired by, celebrating Alaine's 50th year (and, as it happens, our 25 years "solid"), there was one place that I wanted to go (since we were going to be in Italy...). Most people know we own a own a Vespa--not one of the little ones that turns over 6,000 RPMs just to go 30mph as one might assume. But a larger 250cc machine that will do 70mph (on twelve inch wheels, mind you). And it gets close to 70 miles to the gallon which was bonus when gas was hitting $4 a gallon. At the end of the day it was a cheap midlife crisis.

So, being we are in Italy and all, and that Piaggio, the parent company of Vespa, has a museum not 20k from Pisa,... well, we just had to stop by.

The company Piaggio ...

designed lots of things, like trolly cars,

airplanes,

cars,

fire trucks (laugh if you want but on the very very narrow streets of Italy these things were great),

ape (Ah-pay, Italian for bee and quite common to see them on the road but not as nicely painted as this one by a local artist.),

and, of course, Vespa (Italian for wasp. That 1967 white one is going to be my next midlife crisis.).

All of which was designed, back in the 40s, the old fashioned way,

and, mostly by this man, Corradino D'Ascanio.

Pavement, pistol shots, prostitutes and Pisa

I know, kind of a wild title but that was the day.

Having had to take the train to Roomaggiore, because the road was closed, made it easier to decide to take the train from Riomaggiore, because the road was flippin' steep to get us up and over on our way further alog the coast. It also allowed us some time to walk around one last time before we set out. The cool thing being that, at the early hour of 0800, it's just the locals in-the-know getting the best selection of vegetables, the warmest bread, and just cleaned fish that one can't come by later in the day. Not too many tourists out yet. U.S. And a few others.

So we caught the train--without the craziness of the first time--we're getting to be old hats. And after that, the road to Pisa was mostly just riding on a smaller highway, often along the waterfront strip, strangely quiet after our busy Easter week time further north. The cycling didn't afford much photo taking but we did manage a little touché when a some walkers started into the crosswalk--Paul hit the brakes and Alaine hit Paul before hitting the pavement. From Paul's point of view it looked pretty bad but Alaine, being stronger than she looks, got up with only a few abrasions and nothing that bled a lot. "Ba Bene" she sort of said. To boot, a very nice passerby showed up with some ice and a bottle of water. A fresco , she said, when Alaine pointed out she already had some. At least there were no broken ribs this time (!) and Alaine was able to continue on.

The last 10k or so to Pisa was along a stretch of highway with little or no shoulder so it was a bit uncomfortable cycling. As we neared Pisa, we could hear many shots coming from a nearby firing range, at least we hoped it was a firing range and not some Whatcom County yahoos firing their high powered riffles across the river. But I digress. Then there were a couple of prostitues waiting at the intermittent pull-outs along the highway--it just didn't seem right when you're on the road to Pisa. 

But then there was Pisa, at least after we got our camp all situated. In the fading light of sundown, the baptistery, the cathedral and the tower were all illuminated and bright in their unusually white marbled stone. 

Looking back at the coast 

Holy moley... Alaine kept saying. The Appenine range...

It doesn't look as bad as the crash looked...

Sorry... Somehow it's not leaning here.

Riomaggiore, Cinque Terre, 8-9 April

The day began with a nice short decent to the old train tunnel from Framura to Levanto. Five kilometers with a few peekaboo views of the sea. After Levanto things changed quite a bit as the terrain kicked up quite a bit. 

The many hills we ascended and descended to get here, to Riomaggiore, could have counted several more had the road we'd mapped to follow not been closed due to road washouts, forcing us to backtrack and descend three towns northwest of our destination. Thankfully we reached Vernazza in time to catch the next train (mille grazie to the man who helped heft our bikes up and across the 3-foot void from the platform!) to Riomaggiore. Looking up from sea level, marveling at the steepness, we felt so lucky to be two of the very few who approach the Cinque Terre from above.

This place is so ridiculously beautiful, foreign, hidden, old yet re-newed (or at least enough to keep things from falling apart). Passageways that lead nowhere or somewhere and a cocophony of sound--workers, tourists, children carousing before heading to school, the old women hanging laundry two stories up conversing across the void. It's magical. I'm sure if I lived here, dealing with so many tourists, the charm would grow old. But right now, for us, here just two days, it's a wonder. And we are incredibly lucky to be here. So many moments captured...pared down to several or more. 

The three church towers.

Looking down on Manarola.

Guess we better turn around.

Descent into Vernazza.

Riomaggiore, our home for two nights. 

Next-day trip to Vernazza and Corniglia.

Stairway from Corniglia.

Farmers workign their terrace.

Riomaggiore from above. 

We'll be adding more photos....

And here they are:

Our flat. 

We're peach, first balcony up. 

Patron saint of pork(bottom right)--were down with that.