Alarm, alarm, alarm on a Sunday, on a Sunday, on a Sunday… I stayed home last night while everyone else got their dance/drink on until 4 a.m., and I still couldn’t get out of bed. Onto the train for an hour and a half to Lucca, where surprisingly, had signs of life… I miss Sunday Fundays in the States… sleep in, big breaky/brunch rendezvous with friends and skiing, hiking, climbing, movies… back to bed… whatever. But humongo coffees and lots of eggs are involved, and I love it. I suppose cheap station cappuccinos, massive churches (with mass in sess.) and flea markets suffice for the day… the sun was shining in beautiful Lucca and because mass was in sess., we were unable to checkitout, so a’ marketing we went. I was in hog heaven, but needed to hit the trough before sensory overload kicked in… grabbed a quick tuna, tomato and bean salad and hit the wall. Not in deprivation- we literally climbed the wall that surrounds the city and provides, not only spectacular views of surrounding mountains and castles, but also a pleasant walking/running/biking path lined by trees and parks. It was refreshing to be surrounded by green grass and trees- something that’s been lacking in previous cities, especially those with canals for streets. Slowly meandering to and fro, snapping pictures and breathing in fresh air felt more and more like a Sunday afternoon in Montana. I’m not homesick in the least bit, but reminders of what I appreciate about home makes me feel good.
I broke away from the pack and ran (not really) down to the market. I don’t know what it is about old shit that makes me feel like a little kid on Christmas Eve, but I LOVE IT. Boxes of chandelier crystals, silverware, candelabras, leather chairs, vintage trench coats, 17th century lithographs, antique jewelry, hand painted china, fox tail scarves, and did I mention antique jewelry? Picking up etchings of letters from old manuscripts with beautiful typography got my heart rate up… I know that qualifies me for the Dorkus Olympiad, but studying the precision and integrity that one man had in creating hundreds of pages so unique and fine, (almost) brought a tear to my eye. And that was his job! “Today’s assignment, young scribe, is to draw and write… have at it.” My, my, how times have changed… for better or worse is debatable, since I am using technologies they never dreamed possible back then, to create the same effects and ideas… “Progress” is the common denominator. I enjoyed some time to myself, especially since no one in the group, or perhaps the world likes to mull over tables scattered with fabulous junk as meticulously as I...
Back on the train to nod off, until “Clifford the Wack Job” tried to steal Jesine’s IPod while she was sleeping… thank God Becca was awake and nudged her out of Never-Never Land to ask him what the hell he was doing. He stood over her, holding it (the IPod) in one hand, motioning for her to hand over her head phones with the other… 5 short seconds later, the wolf pack surrounded him, except for me because visions of my future abode full of leather couches and chandeliers danced in my head… Devon finally grabbed it from him and pushed him away. It was probably a good thing that I was asleep, since I handle confrontation like a silverback.
The long mellow day left us in a conscious coma… peanut butter and crackers was all I could muster for dinner… Sweat pants: check. Movie (The Time Traveler’s Wife): check. In bed with the windows open listening to the rain: check. Sundays in Italy may compete in the popularity contest after all… how COULD I possible complain? Big day back in Florence tomorrow… only 3 more days before I can say “When in Rome” in a literal sense… ciao ciao!
A trip to Italy would not be complete without a clifford the wack job story. Glad you got your story while sleeping. ;-)
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