Day 47 - 53

Lucca, Italy

I chose to go to Lucca after Firenze because it was recommended to me by a lovely Canadian couple I ended up having lunch next to a few days before I left. They told me that it was surrounded by a medieval wall and that they stayed at a lovely Bed & Breakfast ran by two brothers. That was pretty much all I needed to make up my mind, especially given that I had no idea where to go next. 

I took an early train and an earlier bus and arrived in Lucca at about 10:30 in the morning. During the 2 hour train ride, I noticed that there were a large amount of young people arround me. I didn't give it a second thought because there are students everywhere in Italy.

As I stepped off the train, the first thing I noticed was a girl in a bright red wig and a white jumper carrying a hand-fashioned hammer. But not just any hammer. It was a HUGE wooden affair, not unlike a weapon used by Tom against Jerry.  

Hmm, I thought. That's weird.

But I hoisted my pack up and followed the crowd toward the station entrance. All of the sudden I was surrounded by all sorts of costumed characters between the ages of 13 and 20, and they all looked amazing. As I reached the entrance, I stepped to the left and gawked for a few seconds. And then I remembered that Gabriele, one of the B&B brothers, told me that there was a big comics convention in town. Of course!

I took out my map and tried to orient myself. I wasn't having an easy time, and a ninja approached me asking in very broken Italian if I needed directions. I told him where I was going, and even though I could only see his eyes (his costume was very authentic. ;) ), I could tell that he had no idea where Ai Cipressi was. He turned to his ninja brethren and asked them if they knew. Instantly they surrounded me pointing this way and that while conferring with one another. And then they all pointed in the same direction and I was on my way. I said "Grazie Mille" and they all bowed.

Awesome.

I arrived at the B&B about 20 minutes later and walked into the office. Sitting behind the desk was Cristina, a lovely girl with amazing dreadlocks. She told me that my room was being prepared and asked if wanted to practice my Italian while I waited. I smiled and laughed, because my Italian is terrible. Sure, I can understand so much more than when I began, but to speak...my accent is an insult to the lyrical lovlieness that is this spoken language. So I told her we could practice her English instead.

We sat chatting, and I felt this peaceful calm wash over me and I realized that it was coming from Cristina. She had a twinkle in her eye that was infectious, and it was just a pleasure to be there in that moment. I told her about my travels and being on a total adventure high (which is pretty much perpetual, btw), I heard my words come out of my mouth, I thought "Oh my goodness, cheeseball. Shush already." But she loved it and shared my enthusiasm.

I told her everything, and that all I really had was what I was carrying. That everything else was in storage.

She got up and grabbed my pack and said "Let me help you with your house, then. Your room is ready for you."

So delightful.

My room was lovely and simple and so comfortable.

I unpacked and spent the rest of the day exploring the small town. I was dumbfounded by the Fall colors that surrounded me. The leaves had changed and were falling and against the huge backdrop of greenspace that surrounded the city walls, the canvas of orange, yellow, and red was unlike anything I had every seen in my life. And walking around the city wall (actually ON it) gave me the most impressive vantage point by which to soak it all in.

I was at completely at ease where in contrast, the energy of Firenze had put me on edge -in the most positive way, naturally.

On my second day. I met Peter and Liz while having breakfast. They were a retired British couple on a 9-day holiday in Lucca. They said that it had been years since they had been there last and talked about how lovely it was to be back. Our conversation was wonderful, and it felt very special to be there at the same time and have Lucca in common, if only for a few days.

I spent the next 5 days just walking and reading and writing and exploring Lucca. The language barrier was a bit intense, but without exception, the people I encountered were friendly and effusive.

Each day, Cristina and I would meet on the loggia around 5pm for cigarettes and coffee. She had just finished school for language (French, Spanish, and English) and was very happy to have the chance for more practice with me. We talked about the future, what we wanted for ourselves, and how important it was to have dreams and pursue them. At 25, she had an incredible amount of wisdom, and it was a gift to be in the presence of it.

One day, Peter and Liz came back from an outing and the five of us stood together on the loggia talking and laughing. I was filled with this immediate sense of comfort and familiarity and it's strength took me aback. Then I realized that if only for a moment, the five of us respresented our own small community, and it was one of those (less) rare instances where I could see with stunning clarity, how amazing and wonderful it was to simply be in the moment, the now, without concern over the next day, next hour, next minute. It was an incredibly free feeling while inherently grounded in the people I had the opportunity to share it with.

On my last night, I went out to dinner with Peter and Liz, but not before having at aperitif in their lovely room. We talked about the vernacular differences in British and American cadences, and Peter told this utterly charming and hilarious story about when he ordered a martini in Washington D.C., and the bar tendress looked at him blankly and said "Oliver Twist."

He paused and then said, "David Copperfield?"

She gave him more of her blank stare and then slowly, deliberately innunciated, "Olive or twist?"

We laughed and laughed.

Over dinner, Peter was asking me details about my travels and how my family felt about it all. I told him that my dad was so excited and that through various means, he was keeping track of where I was and researching everything that I had seen. I told him that my two aunts closest to me were also incredibly supportive, more so than I could have ever dreamed.

He asked me how my mom felt, and it was then that I shared the true reasons behind my journey and how I was given the opportunity to do it.

He looked at Liz who had grown silent. He then looked at me and said that the reason he and Liz were in Lucca was that they were making a pilgramge of sorts. The last time they had been there was with his daughter Sarah, and her two children. They were killed not long after that visit, and it was the first time Peter and Liz were ready to return to Lucca because it held such a tangible memory of her.

"What was your mother's name?"

"Lynn."

He raised his glass.

"To Sarah and Lynn. And to the pilgramage that we all share."

I tried to hold it together and saw that Peter was an unsuccessful as I was. But we held each other's eyes for that one moment and truly saw everything that we shared by being in the same place at the same time.

I will never forget Lucca.

And I will always cherish that moment of community and clarity that I was given the gift to see and feel.