Lucca – A Last Look

You would expect that a last day spent in Lucca would spur one on to a frantic search of city streets, rushing around in sunshine making sure there is nothing missed, revisiting favorite places, trying just one more restaurant.  Instead, the day is cloudy and gray with a strong threat of rain.  It is a good stay-indoors-day, so this last day of our almost six weeks stay, I find myself washing clothes, cleaning the refrigerator, cabinets, and floors. And packing.  Michael helps, taking vacuum and mop in hand.

I also reminisce.

Lovely Lucca

I understand why this is Lovely Lucca, although I have heard it described by another (misguided) tourist as a glorified shopping centre.  There is shopping, and it is glorious, but there is so much more. It is a place of more than forty churches, Roman ruins, museums, beautiful palazzos, myriad piazzas, towers, concerts, over two hundred restaurants, trees, and parks. Quiet walks. Pure water. Clean air. It is a place of, and for people.  A place for feeling and just being. Lucca is a place for living.

What I Will Miss

I will miss the melodies emanating from the music school in back of us, as the sweet sounds of instruments curl up into the air, through the open sunroom door, and into the rest of the apartment.  I will miss the laughter and conversation that accompany the clicking of women’s heels, and the hollow clump of men’s shoes as couples pass beneath our bedroom window at night going to and coming from dinner. Parties. A late-night stroll?

I’ll miss the craziness of the passeggiata when everyone window shops.  I’ll miss the quietness in San Andrea after the tourists have headed home, having their fill of climbing the Guinigi Tower, and getting lost in Lucca’s twisted maze.

And I’ll miss the bouquet of umbrellas that come out in the rain.

I will miss the bicycle riders – everywhere; they are Lucca’s great equalizer.

Last night as Michael and I walked to a dusky old bar at the far end of Via Fillungo — where appetizers are free, the wood is warmed with age, the tables scarred, and foreign music (American oldies) is piped in via web radio — we saw a very elegant woman dressed in a black hat, black stockings, black high heels, and black suit — with the hat and suit trimmed in fur — get on her bicycle and ride off into the black night.

I will miss the kids riding their bicycles on the streets. I will miss the adults riding bicycles on the streets, briefcases in baskets, successfully dodging pedestrians on their way to work.

I’ll miss the walls and the parks and the trees and the lady that sold us pastries for our morning breakfast each day.

I’ll miss you Lovely Lucca, I’m glad I found you.