Lucca by Bike

"There are no paths. Paths are made by walking"

We hopped on the train last week to go to Lucca, a fairytale sort of town just a couple hours from Firenze. The whole city is surrounded by completely intact walls, fortified from both the outside fast-paced modern world and the "flip-flop fanny-pack wearing invaders of the summer" (So true, we read that somewhere). We roamed the streets for a while, came across a calciobailla (foosball) tournament in one of the piazzas. Man do these Italians love their calcio!

Lucca was a pleasant escape from the endless tourists in Firenze. Its a charming little place, with tree lined paths, and almost no traffic besides the bike riders. After grabbing some pizza that Rick suggested (Rick Steve's that is. His books have become our travel bibles. We just tear out the towns that we need for the day so we don't have to lug around the whole book. Shout out to Janelle's dad for that handy tip!), we eventually we came across the Piazza Amifiteatro. It's a circular piazza that was built on the shell of an old Roman amphitheatre, and today is surrounded by little shops and restaurants. Then we continued our stroll around.

The walls around the city, the bike trail on top, in the trees

Next up, bike riding! The walls around the little city form ramparts that have great paths all around. It was a magical experience, feeling the breeze, the crunching of the leaves under my wheels, leaves changing colors along the sides of the path. So peaceful! And we made it around the whole city, twice! After an hour of bike riding (sorry Danielle, but no helmets were available…I begged for one but no such luck!) we ditched the bikes and caught the next train to Pisa. There was nothing too exciting about it. We got off the train, saved the tower from falling, then headed back home.

Vagare Senza Meta

"Wandering re-establishes the original harmony which once existed between man and the universe" - Anatole France

Vago means "wandering", also with the possibility of stumbling and bumbling, of being off balance. The same word means "vague", it implies vagueness and movement. It has another third meaning: a kind of pleasure and beauty that is not obvious or immediately apparent.

In Florence, in Italy, I wander. Not in the sense of a vagabond with a knapsack on my back, which is how I would have liked to wander, vaguely and without a destination. Like a vagabond. It is not this kind of wandering, but a kind of confined wandering. A wandering within the boundaries of academic study within a group of other college students. There is no knapsack for me; though an earnest and diligent wanderer, I am kept in the constrains of a class schedule. Desperately to be a "free spirit", at the same time relishing in the lectures of my professors, appreciating the opportunity to study the Renaissance at it's birthplace, I wander Italy. With each adventure I depart on, my new home is here waiting for my return. I wander to outside the city, to the nearby towns, to the sea, returning to this city which has become familiar, comfortable, welcoming.

In any new place it is great to wander, to discover the scents, absorb the colors, the people, to feel the rhythm of them. Or in a familiar place to wander as if it being the first time; to rediscover the hidden secrets of a well traveled city.

After being here for over a month, I have gotten into the routine of living here. It is a little strange living here, but its really just like any other city. I had romanticized what it would be like to live here I guess. I had never really imagined the day-to-day life; I had never gotten past the initial thought of, "awesome, I'll be living in Italy" idea. But now that I've been here, I've adjusted, as much as one can in a couple of months, to the way of life here. I go to the market for produce, to the bakery for bread, to Jon Paul for my gelato fix, and to the supermercato for all other stuff. A cool thing is that there is always someone that will go exploring with you too. Its great to know that you can call someone up and they have the same schedule, or lack of. Time here is a strange thing though. Italian clocks…I swear they're different than the ones back in California. Really. They have an extra few ticks in them… or maybe its a few less tocks. I can't be sure. Something about them is a little different. No one here is rushed either. No one worries about being late. Time isn''t measured. There are no schedules to be kept. It is a really great way to keep our blood pressure low.

One way to pass the time is to people watch a any of the piazzas, a caffè, anywhere really. There are always people out and about, no matter what time of the day or night. One of my favorite times to walk around the city is at night, when people are taking strolls through the streets. The atmosphere is casual, music from an accordion dancing down the streets, people walking their dogs, backpackers searching for a bed for the night, vespas zipping by. Late night eaters on the patios, venders trying to make one last sale for the day before they close down their booths, groups of friends headed out to the discoteca. The evening is the melting pot of the day. The streets are overrun with pedestrians, bicycles, strollers, smiles and laughter and music. Everyone seems to be out enjoying the city, getting one last moment in before the start of the next day. And the street vendors amaze me. Somehow they always have on hand exactly what passersby might need. The sun is out today? Oh well here, buy these sunglasses. Are you feeling a little chilly? Well we have a variety of scarves to choose from. Do those clouds suddenly look a little ominous? You might want to buy one of our umbrellas that we just happen to have on hand for you. I'm sure Mary Poppins is helping them out storing all this stuff too. They just come out of the woodwork with this stuff, ready to offer up whatever you'll need, or don't need, as you pass by.