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British Mensa Travel Special Interest Group |
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Tuscany
1985 by Trudi-Joy Levy As our Alitalia flight was called I allowed myself a small, smug grin. After all, I had got my own way again and we were once more returning to my beloved Italy. The previous year's trip to Sorrento and the Amalfi coast had been so delightful that the family had been content enough to let me make the travel arrangements again. This year we were heading for Tuscany - unknown territory apart from a stolen romantic weekend in Florence - but familiar enough from numerous biographies. We were about to follow the footsteps of countless writers before us. The children, of course, were unimpressed by these historical facts and had been bribed on this trip by the promise of golden sands and swimming pools in our chosen resort of Viareggio. We had made a deal: alternate days spent at the poolside or beach, the rest of the holiday spent satisfying my wanderlust. I was also anticipating an abundant harvest of lovely Italian leather shoes, which I had been fortunate enough to reap the previous year. It was incredibly hot when we touched down at Pisa and I wondered if any of us would have the energy to travel around. The coach drive to the hotel was full of promise. We passed the Villa on a lake where Rossini had written many of his operas, and a bus station full of buses heading for exciting destinations - Florence, La Spezia, Pisa, Lucca, Siena - all within striking distance. We arrived at our hotel and my heart sank. It boasted an Olympic-sized pool and the beach opposite stretched on and on for miles with rows of coloured umbrellas and deck chairs in regimented lines down to the sea. It was already late afternoon so we unpacked quickly and explored the hotel and its environs. Dinner was served al fresco on a delightful terrace, just right for a warm evening. The next morning a gale was blowing and waiters were working hard to keep the tablecloths in contact with the tables. We agreed this would be a perfect morning to travel further afield and set off for the bus station. We were queuing for our tickets when the mini-monsoon arrived. We avoided the worst of the deluge but had to wade through nearly a foot of water to board our bus to Florence. Coastal resorts in Italy are not equipped with drains as showers are so short and the ground quickly dries out. Florence was as lovely as I remembered it and the children took great delight in col~nting the steps up the campanile. This was to be a recurring game throughout the holiday and I think we climbed every tower in every town we visited. The next day we relaxed at the hotel's pool and got into conversation with a lady who was returning to England the next day. I was enthusing about Florence and it transpired that she had not left the resort in 14 days. Mornings were spent on the bbeach, afternoons at the pool. I asked her if she wasn't curious about the city. She replied that she had passed through it 27 years earlier and hadn't felt the need. "It was there 27 years ago dear, and no doubt it will still be there in another 27 years," she told me. Our next excursion was to Pisa. The steps of the leaning tower were the worst we were to encounter. Gravity pulled you first to one side of the staircase and then to the other. That might have been manageable but it seemed that whilst we were going up everybody else was coming down, and vice versa. The Baptistry was lovely and it seemed a pity that it is always, literally, eclipsed by the tower and cathedral. The next day was spent in Viareggio, hiring bikes and exploring the pine forests. The weather was, by now, glorious again, but the tables had been moved back to the shelter of the dining room, in anticipation of another downpour. We had booked the official tours for Elba, Siena and Carrara as they were not well served by public transport. We had chosen to visit Elba at the end of the first week and Siena during the second week as they were some distance away and would necessitate an early start. We had asked for a 6am call on the morning of our Elba trip and, when it came, I think we all had second thoughts about the wisdom of our decision. We staggered around the gloomy room, dressing in groggy silence, and ate a roll and lukewarm coffee in a deserted dining room. It was barely light when the coach picked us up and, like many of our companions, we dozed fitfully until we reached the busy port of Piombino. It was a beautiful morning and the white ferry boat gleamed in the sunshine. The quayside was full of travellers, rather than tourist some with cars, some with bicycles, some on foot, but all babbling away in different languages, waving their arms about them in accompaniment. It seemed impossible that this thronging crowd of people, vehicles, animals and vegetables would all be aboard in. time for the 10 a.m. sailing but, miraculously, it happened and for the next hour or so we enjoyed our mini-voyage. Other guests at our hotel who chose to take this trip the following week were not so fortunate. A storm blew up during the crossing and they were all violently sick. Our coach was waiting at the lively little port of Portoferraio, to take us to the "Villa Napoleonica" at San Martino. The villa is set high in the hills beneath us like a brilliant blue jewel. We had an excellent guide at the villa who made the events of 1814 - 15, during Napoleon's exile, seem like current affairs; even the children seemed totally absorbed. We returned to the coach after lunch and enjoyed a relaxing tour of this idyllic island, stopping here and there for a wine-tasting or just to enjoy the breathtaking views from the coastline. The return journey seemed longer without the anticipation we had enjoyed in the morning, but we were pleased we had included Elba in our itinerary and sorry there would not be tini~e to visit the neighbouring island of Monte Cristo. The trip to Siena the following week proved another long and tiring day but we also visited San Gimignano, a town famous for its towers, high in the slopes of Chianti country. Siena was an interesting old town, quite unlike the other places we visited. The Cathedral was fascinating; it looked as though it had been designed by Committee, with each member adding further embellishment. It seemed Siena had "spies" checking out the progress of the Cathedral in Florence, and going one better at each stage. The final result is completely "over the top". We had lunch in "II Campo". It was a peaceful leisurely affair and it was hard to imagine this place transformed to a crowded horse racing track only a week later. In the second week we managed a trip to Carrara, high in the Apuan Alps, where much of the world's marble is mined. From the distance it appears that the mountains are snow-capped but in reality the "snow" is pure white marble. We revisited Florence, this time by train and, on our final full day, we went to Lucca. Lucca was a most pleasant surprise as we knew nothing about it and therefore had no preconceptions. Like San Gimignano, it had many original towers remaining. We climbed one, La Torre Guinigi (more stairs'), and found, not just a lovely panoramic view of the town, but also two trees growing at the top- We found a Roman amphitheatre, quite by chance, now a bustling street market; and yet another Duomo! The time
had come to pack our cases reluctantly and depart. The weather was still
perfect and we stayed at the poolside until our coach arrived. A dozen
other guests accompanied us to the front gate and gave us a rousing send-off.
Lucky people - they still had another week left and we were returning
to spend the next 50 weeks dreaming of our flight to freedom. I didn't
get the shoes - there didn't seem time - but I made a lot friends and
brought home a fund of memories. And next year - who knows? |