Lucca Day 4

I reluctantly said goodbye to Venice as we boarded our water taxi bound for the train station.

When I planned this trip it was originally a 9 day itinerary.  In an effort to make it more palatable for Dan I decided I needed to shave off a day.  I stared at the computer screen hoping something would stick out but didn't feel inclined to spend any less time in any one city.  I kind of threw a dart and picked Venice.  And in retrospect, while I did love it so much, it was also the smallest, and therefore wisest choice to only spend one day.

Before Leah arrived in Italy, we told her to pick any day trips from Florence and Rome that she thought looked good.  So she planned that once our train arrived in Florence, we would just transfer to one that would take us out in the countryside to the city of Lucca.

These big trains were a great way to travel.

 They were so comfortable and seeing the passing landscape was an added bonus in my book.

The only downside was that since Leah booked separately from us, once the train started to fill up our tickets didn't allow us to sit together.

When we arrived in Florence we saw that the next train to Lucca was leaving in just a few minutes.  We battled the Italian ticket machine, won, and boarded the train just in time.  Unfortunately in our rush we forgot to stow our bags in the lockers at the Florence station.

We pulled into Lucca and went on a hunt for some lockers since lugging bags around was the last thing our tired bodies wanted to do.  We couldn't find any but we did find the bathrooms.  I was not even tempted to use the facilities, especially when I saw they looked like this.

We ended up stopping in a hotel and being directed to a nearby bike rental/bag storage shop.  It was kind of fun because it was one of the only times where the language barrier was in complete and full effect.  If they  knew any English they weren't using it. But my gut told me they didn't because they were very kind and friendly.

Lucca is an old walled city.

The space between the walls was long ago filled in, which created a sort of raised park and bike path.

We mostly just wandered and took in the views.

I was enchanted by this tree lined street, in full bloom.

We ate some mediocre lunch and sampled the gelato for our contest.

I temporarily harbored some ill feelings towards my travel companions when they totally deserted me to some sketchy street performing clown.  He got me by the arm and wanted a kiss and some money.  It was all in fun until I realized he was not going to let go until he got them.  I kissed his cheek, gag, and opened my bag to get some coins. When I saw that I had exactly one coin to my name, I pulled it out and was more than satisfied that it was a one cent euro.  Served him right. Thank goodness he was satisfied too, that or he saw the emptiness of my purse and knew I wasn't good for anything else. He let me go.  Meanwhile, Mom and Leah had continued walking and were football fields away by then.  I broke into a jog and finally caught up.  They seemed totally unconcerned that I was nearly accosted by that face painted crazy. Leah and Mom, feel free to defend yourselves in the comments...

When late afternoon hit, we headed back to the train station because we wanted to have plenty of daylight to get back to Florence and find our hotel.

We crossed the beautiful Arno river and found it without incidence.

The Florence hotel was also a favorite.

We hit a local pizza place for dinner and had no trouble eating this entire pie.

We went to bed with full bellies, ready to take in all that Florence had to offer in the morning.

Run-Down of the Run of the Mill

I'm looking forward to the return of my mind today! Who knew that a little toilet overflow in the tiled downstairs bathroom could lead to sopping wet wood floors in the kitchen and the foyer? Which, in turn, would lead to 4 straight days living with 3 industrial fans and a dehumidifier running at approximately the same decibel level as a 747.  Thankfully, the flood restoration guy is coming to retrieve his equipment this afternoon. I'm not saying there won't be any yelling in our house after today, but I can say that there will be less "CAN I WATCH ANOTHER SHOW ON VOLUME 75?" and more, "Can you make me a quesadilla?"  My mind is so jarred from the conversational screaming and roaring of motors, I am recording the memories I've got while I still can. Because of course I don't want to forget about Europe, or our first camping adventure, or our upcoming trip to Sea World this weekend, but I also don't want to forget how General Conference this year was a far cry from last.  

Unfortunately our tent only served as a venue for the kids to fight and whine.  And we heard hardly a word or a song.

I don't want to forget how Dan continues to be the best toy my kids have ever received.

                                      

How Max wouldn't take the basket off is head for our Egg Hunt picture, 

                              

but opened right up when I asked him to show off his candy.

I don't want to forget how I had to be all sneaky and scrape out the apparently-too-old-and-seemingly-un-meltable marshmallows from our baked Resurrection Rolls so as not to ruin the symbolism for the kids.

How Max wanted nothing to do with getting his picture taken on Easter.

                                         

                                         

Or how proud Luke was when he set the table all by himself.

                              




I can't forget the day I knew the boys had eaten too much toast,

but I just kept making it.



Or when Dan was so distracted he mixed up a whole gallon of chocolate milk for Ava instead of just a cup.

I don't want to forget how Lukey wanted photographic proof that his eyes were blue.

 Or how great Max is at getting himself "ready to ride"

I'd hate to forget how cute Luke looked in his wig for "W" Show and Share day.

Or the conversation I overheard in the van the other day when Luke said something crazy.

Ava: Luke, you sound like you lost your marbles!

Luke, laughing: A-va! I don't even have any marbles!

Venice Day 3, Super Duper Loooong

From our rough estimations, we walked about 12 miles over the course of our two day stay in Paris.  We were acclimating to the time change but we were still in major sleep debt. We were really tired. Have I mentioned that already?

Trying to be pro-active, we bought our train tickets for our morning return to the airport, on our way home from Versailles.  We got back to the hotel and discussed our morning plans with the front desk guy.  And he informed us that while proactive, our 40 euros worth of tickets would be wasted because the trains didn't begin running early enough for us.  He said we needed to leave by 4:00-4:30am to make our 7am flight.  He called the shuttle service they used and could only get us one for 5am. He then assured us it would be plenty of time.  We had our doubts given that it was an hour later than he originally told us to leave, but we had no choice.

As a side note, if I could have a superpower I might choose being able to understand any language when people are fighting. In the morning our driver was late.  Then he and the front desk guy had words.  Lots and lots of angry french words. At least 5 minutes worth of angry French words. I'd have given  many things to know what they were saying! But we were also desperately wishing he would just shut up and get us to the airport.  We had a plane to catch!

After our late shuttle departure, stopping to pick up some more people, driving the exact slow speed limit to the airport, having the other group dropped off at their terminal before us even though their flight left an hour later than ours, we were a little on edge.

Then when we arrived at the counter to check in, we were informed that our flight was actually in different terminal, about 10 minutes walk, across the airport.  We would spend the next forty (40!) minutes walking (walking!) between 2 more terminals before we actually arrived at the correct one, due to our flight being "moved".

With approximately 3 seconds to spare, we arrived at our gate and boarded a bus which took us to the plane.  Literally a few seconds later, and we would have missed a bus and a plane in one fell swoop.

But we made it! And of course, say it with me now, we were so tired! We dozed on the short flight to Venice.  My passport dreams were dashed though when we got off the plane and there were only a couple of dudes in uniforms stopping random people to see their passports.  I was happy and sad that they didn't stop us, no Italy stamp for me.

From the airport we needed to take a bus to a water taxi.  We were desperate for food. While we more than enjoyed our french bread, crepes, and pastries and airline pretzels, all we really wanted was an apple or a banana.  We had some time to kill before the bus left, but when we approached the small food counter at the airport, we could see the case was brimming with cakes and rolls and pastries.  Not a fresh fruit in sight.

I was hungry and disappointed but Mom was nearing a breakdown.  We rode our bus.  We made the switch to the water taxi.

I thought I had stepped into a dream.

Really.

I loved this entire trip.  I LOVED it.  And I would never want to pick, but if you held me down and dangled loogies over my face and insisted I pick a favorite city, I think it would have to be Venice.


The feeling and atmosphere there was so thick and foreign and intense.

We got off at the Rialto Bridge stop. We hefted our bags around and tried to find our way to hotel.  After a little mix up right up front, we got turned around and followed our googled walking map through the most fantastic, winding, narrow alleyways.  At first when I would turn a corner and look down a twisted corridor and see that the name on the building matched the name on my map, I would think, "That can't be right."   My mind just couldn't comprehend that what looked like a dead end, tiny walkway could actually be a thoroughfare.  But it was, every time.

We came to an opening in the buildings, crossed a small bridge onto a plaza with a church and an open market selling books, jewelry, and antiques.

There were families with children playing with balls and riding bikes.

 And there was our hotel, right in the middle of it all.  The most perfect place to be on a sunny Sunday morning in Spring.

On our way in, we had passed a small local grocery store.  Going back there after a quick bag-drop at the hotel was one of the trip experiences I will never forget.

Venetians are a little tight on space.  They fit every shop, store, or restaurant into whatever space they have.
My Saturday trips to Walmart could not be in any starker contrast to this.  I am not a small person so my feelings of claustrophobia might have been amplified, but we wended our way towards the back of the store where there was one glorious double-sided row of fresh, beautiful produce.  I picked an apple.  Mom picked a banana and two small oranges.  On the back side of that was one row of refrigerated items.  I got a small yogurt.  To get back to the checkout, we squeezed past patrons pulling their carts.  You know the small baskets at our grocery stores that you can carry for a quick trip? These were those same baskets, on wheels, with a long handle, being pulled wagon-style through the congested aisles.  There were approximately 4 short aisles for the whole store. I pictured myself at home, in aisle 23, staring at the 3,000 cereal options.

 We waited in line for one of two cashiers.

And then a funny thing happened.  A tiny, tiny old Italian woman in her hat and long trench coat, one that looked like every stereotypical old Italian woman in countless movies, approached the line.  She squeezed past a few people and then she wedged her way right in front of me and behind a couple of local guys. The top of her head reached my armpits.   They patted her back and exchanged hellos.  I can only imagine that she was thinking, "I'm not going to let any gigantic tourists drag out my Sunday shopping trip." We didn't even talk to each other, and she butted me in line, but I liked her!

And then another funny thing happened.

I have just had the thought, that these might be "you had to be there" kind of funny things.  So to you, this might just be a thing that happened.  To me, and to my mom, they are funny.

We bought our fruit and looked for a place to eat it.  All of the tables and chairs in our plaza belonged to the restaurants.  We ended up perched on a ledge on the side of the church.  As you may know, churches in Europe are common hangouts for beggars.  We had given change to most of the beggars we came upon in Paris.  But right at that moment we were not feeling generous.  We were tired and hungry and ready to sit and eat our long anticipated fruit.  Out came a beggar woman, shaking her cup at us.  We told her "No".  She moved along to some other people, but in a few minutes she was back.  This time she didn't shake her cup, she pointed at our food.

"Tamarind" she said as she pointed to my mom's orange.  And here was the  perfect illustration for my mom's heart-she could deny the woman money, but she could not deny her food.  The last thing my mom wanted to do was hand over the fruit she was so hungry for herself.  She looked over at me, her sense of duty and compassion compelling her to do the very thing she didn't want to do.

"Dang it!" she said to me in defeat.  And she handed her orange to the woman. "I wanted that." She said as the beggar walked away.

We had planned to rendezvous with Leah at the Rialto bridge later that afternoon. She had missed one of her connecting flights in Germany so we had a few more hours than we originally thought.  Mom and I spent the rest of the morning wandering those windy streets and doing my favorite thing-soaking it in and people watching.

We walked through St. Mark's square.  I had to pinch myself.

We walked past the cathedral and the Doges Palace but decided not to go in, in case Leah wanted to once she arrived.  It would turn out to be too late to do so, but I don't regret a minute of how we spent our time.  And now I have another reason to return to Venice.

We walked out to the lagoon, and through a park, where we sat for a while.

We got lost and loved it.

I ate the most delicious lunch.

All the while I was trying to convince my mom to take an over priced gondola ride with me.

Meeting up with Leah was so fun.  We were a world away from all we knew and then all of a sudden there was a most familiar face in a sea of strangers.  We welcomed with her a banana and nutella crepe and led her through the maze back to our hotel.

We wandered some more.

And took 1,000 more pictures.

I had to keep telling myself, "You are not in Las Vegas at the Venetian.  You are not at Epcot Center.  You are in Venice!"

Leah and I shared Pasta Carbonera and I wanted to eat the plate it tasted so good.

I guess I do have one regret.  By the time I convinced Mom and Leah to go on the gondola ride with me, night had fallen and I couldn't take pictures.

But that ride was peaceful, pleasant, and informative.  I am so glad we did it.


Our hotel was so cute and so quaint.

It had wireless internet so I could finally skype with Dan and the kids and upload some of my pictures to Facebook so they could see where I was.

And before our happy hearts and tummies went to bed, we ate the first cones of gelato in our Italian Cities Gelato Contest. Stay tuned for the results.