Link

What a beautiful town!  Enclosed within an ancient wall, this town has it all. . Charm, shopping, history, good food.  We only scratched the surface today.

imageA browse around the Sunday market revealed the usual. . .food stalls and imported goods.  Ho-hum.  But as we strolled the crowded streets (holiday weekend, remember), we noticed a plethora of upscale shops and folks riding bikes.  Never have I seen bike-rising in a Tuscan town, but this one is flat.  Easy walking.

We happened into the Chiesa di San Michelle, where a mass was crowded with the faithful.  A short moment to sit, then realizing we had taken someone’s seat while they were taking communion, and then we skeedaddled out of there.image

I must research why these columns are each different,  there's sure to be a story.

I must research why these columns are each different, there’s sure to be a story.

Further along we discovered a medieval faire in a small piazza.imageimage

I discussed dishcloths with a lovely woman.  Most were hand-woven of linen and were quite pricey.

I discussed dishcloths with a lovely woman. Most were hand-woven of linen and were quite pricey.

In another piazza we found children making cheese!

Gemma would love this!

Gemma would love this!

A Sunday in Italy is a day out, and this one was even more special due to the Feast of the Immaculate Conception.  We found “un affollata delle gente”… A crowd of people wherever we went.  A kind person gave us an extra map when I asked (yes, in Italian ) where to get a map.  We made our way to the ancient amphitheater, now home to restaurants and specialty shops.  We loved standing in the middle and imagining life in the circular village around us.  When we chose one exit we were happy to discover Osteria Baralla, recommended by Telma.  Without a second thought we asked for a table ( yes, in Italian) and we’re seated.

Chianina beef carpaccio with slices of Grana (cheese).   Heaven on a fork!

Chianina beef carpaccio with slices of Grana (cheese). Heaven on a fork!

our map was heading us toward the castle, and upon entering were surprised to find…

. . A food exhibition

. . A food exhibition

The halls were crowded with one exhibitor after another selling every kind of food and drink imagine able. . Oil, wine, cider, baked goods, cheese. . . On and on. . imageimageimage

And a silly favorite at the salumeria. .  imageWe we soon found ourselves walking on the wall above the town, commenting that we could easily “Facciamo un passiegatta” take a walk here daily.  The total distance is 4 miles, and we probably only walked one.imageUh-oh, where’s the car?   We THOUGHT we knew which gate we entered through, and we didn’t exit through that one.  But it’s an easy town to traverse.  A brief half mile onward and we were in our red sleigh, ready to seek out the Santuario di Gemma, the saint of Lucca.

Just a short drive outside of Lucca we found the saint with the same name as "I nostri nipotina"...our granddaughter.

Just a short drive outside of Lucca we found the saint with the same name as “I nostri nipotina”…our granddaughte

once again we found the faithful gathering for mass, and after a brief, respectful stay we exited into the bookstore where a very kind bookseller was happy to share a few words with us (yes, in Italian) and he gave us a photo of St. Gemma at age 7 as a gift for our Gemma.

I’ll leave you with a photo of Gemma which we found outside the Santuario.  I’ve seen it before, and am struck by her eyebrows, which bear a striking similarity to someone near and dear to us!image

I’m actually a day behind in blogging, so that’s it for now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

One response »

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s