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As a bit of nostalgia we went up to Barga in the Carfangnana area north of Lucca, for the weekend. This is where Ian spent a month doing a colour etching course 20 years ago in 1998. I joined him half way through. It is a gorgeous little 10th Century mountaintop fortified village with a new town over a small gully. Lots of people here speak Italian with a Scottish accent as, after WW2 People from here went to Scotland to work, especially in the shipyards. Now later generations are returning.
Getting there and back was a bit of a mission, bus up and train down but I won’t bore you with the details. We had delicious handmade ice blocks with white chocolate in the middle, to cool us down during the hour and a half we had in Lucca to look around. It was very, very hot.
The entrance to Barga is very beautiful with tall shady trees lining the road behind which are rather grand concrete mansions. Even at this time of year, and summer hasn’t really started, their shades are down to keep out the heat. Fragrance fills the air as the flowers are absolutely blooming
everywhere, in gardens, in pots and on windowsills.
The Hotel Alpino, where we stayed, has been there for a hundred years. We called it the Pink Hotel because that is its colour. It was the same in 1998. I still have a photo of it. Its main advantage is its location. Right in the centre of the new town, next to the square where everything happens. In 1998 it was gnomes. Every morning the gnomes would appear somewhere else. In gardens, on balconies and roofs, hiding somewhere. Ian would look for them on his way to the studio.
This year, a bit different to gnomes, was a bike race for under 20s. Team Siena, Team Pisa and Team Barga, plus a number of others were all there in fancy professional gear covered in sponsors’ logos. The route was tortuous, down into and along the gully floor, back up including up some stairs (!). The poor kids arrived back in the square exhausted and covered in mud. We couldn’t help, as we sat in the Alpino Cafe in the square drinking cappuccinos and watched, thinking of our boys in NZ and that they would have really enjoyed it and
finished in the same way - muddy and worn out, but satisfied.
Now to the old town. A tortuous and steep, but manageable, walk along narrow streets, dodging cars, through many tiny piazzas, admiring lush gardens visible through grated fences and up lots of stairs to the Duomo at the top. It hadn’t changed at all in twenty years. Not surprising really. The view over the surrounding countryside was magnificent. I was pleased Bev made it as I knew she would be rewarded at the top.
Sigh! It was just as beautiful as we had remembered it.
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