Camaiore to Lucca, the walled city of music

9/5 - Camaiore to Lucca - 16.09 Miles walked

The result of my grand tour along the Tuscan coastline with Efisio was that I was now a day's walk from where I had stopped the evening before. I caught the local bus next to my campsite, which took me back to Lido di Camaiore, and then I had to catch another bus to head up to Camaiore proper, a good 20-25 minutes. Oh, just an interesting little side note: a very common Italian name for the bus, especially a regional bus, is Pullman (pronounced pool-mahn), after George Pullman, a Chicago industrialist famous for inventing the Pullman Sleeping Car. Check out the wikipedia article (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Pullman), if the fancy strikes you. I've always found this to be a very fascinating example of American names infiltrating the Italian language.

Anyways, I'm glad to get out that little tangent, which has been taking up space in my mind for a couple months now. As I was saying, I now had to catch a Pullman, and found out at the ticket booth that I had just missed it by about three minutes. The next one was in thirty minutes, which was a problem, as I was already late to start my walk. I shuffled over to the bus stop, grumbling a bit about my bad timing, when here came the bus (can't bear to keep calling it a Pullman) I had supposedly missed. How could I have forgotten that the Italian clock is at least five minutes late at all times? I chuckled to myself, told the bus driver it was a good thing he was late, got a rise out of two old ladies, and took my seat.

Before I could get too comfy, I was dumped off at the stop, and started on the road to Lucca. It was on this piece of walk that I started to realize with great satisfaction that Tuscany was absolutely covered with forests. I saw some great stretches along the hills east of Pisa, and once I had gone up and over a big hill, it was time for a break. Here, lying on a stone wall with a view of a few rows of vines, I had my lunch, stretched, and took a short nap. I loved this little village, especially for the voices which came from a house down the street: a grandfather caring for his little grandson, and teaching him life's little lessons. I don't even think there was a single shop here, just a few houses, and I didn't dare to explore further. Leave them alone, Pat, appreciate from afar the precious, fleeting nature of this place.

So saying, and making a conscious effort to forget the name of the town, lest it become, heaven forbid, another Vernazza, I pressed on.

Sooner or later, I finally reached Lucca, the walled city, and saw that it was indeed well-maintained. I hadn't known how to interpret everybody's assertions that one could walk on the walls, and at once saw that it was even greater I had imagined it would be. The width of the walls was enough to accommodate a truck, let alone walkers and bikers, and I was impressed that they had stayed intact over all this time.

Availing myself of this novel species of road, I made a beeline for the hostel, so that I could further explore this city without the added weight of my pack. When I arrived, I found that the hostel was fully booked, but just my luck, the lady agreed to give me a couch, at least, and first dibs in case of a no-show. I barely even heard her, so eager was I to relieve myself of my burden, and after stashing it in the baggage deposit room, I went for (another) walk.

My feet hurt and I was really tired, but I really liked it here and wanted to see what it had to offer. I had heard about free evening classical music concerts from the tourist info center, so I made my way straight to the appointed spot, and was rewarded for my effort with the final piece of a harp concert. Informing myself about the next concert, which promised to be a knockout, I took a much-needed seat at the piazza Napoleone and rested a bit.

It could not be for long, however, as I had to settle my lodging situation, change into my evening concert dress (whatever shall I wear?), eat dinner, and make it back for the concert. I accomplished all of this quickly, and was even fifteen minutes early to the concert. Glad I was, too, for unlike the bus this morning, the hall was already packed, and I arrived just before the rush. Instead of standing room only, which after my walk would be a certifiable form of torture, I got a seat with a great view of the piano's keyboard.

With the elderly society lady next to me fanning herself enough for the both of us, I settled down to an excellent concert, consisting of the following pieces (for the music lovers):

Beethoven Violin-Piano Sonata No. 8
Schubert Introduction and Variations on "Troncke Blumen " Op. 160 for flute and piano
Beethoven Seven Variations on "Bei Mannern" WoO 46 for cello and piano
Mozart Piano Sonata KV 330
Encore pieces - Prokofiev Gavotte and Debussy (?)

What a delightful chamber music selection, and what a beautiful chamber in which to hear it!

After the show, I helped myself to hors d'oeuvres, including chocolate covered strawberries, drank a few glasses of prosecco, and decided there and then that I really liked Lucca. Judging from the packed crowd at the concert, music was highly valued here, something of great importance for me. Furthermore, though by no means undiscovered, most people foolishly chose Pisa instead of Lucca, so it was not completely overrun, at least while I was there. Finally, who could not love these walls, which have successfully repelled skyscrapers, planned communities, and strip malls? Built to keep out raiding parties of barbarians so many centuries ago, couldn't it be said that these walls still successfully served the same purpose, defending culture, tradition, and history from the barbarism of modern construction? Now, I don't want to offend anyone here: new construction has its place, and I have enjoyed the fruits of new construction all of my life. But oh how refreshing to have been able, just for one day, to feel so safely insulated from all that is new.