Italy 10 - Barga and Pistoia -Old ladies and their sticks

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Spring in Italy - what does it conjure up? Warm weather, sunshine, light showers and wild flowers everywhere. What did we get today - heavy rain as the Heavens opened. Rain falling like stair rods splashing in the deep puddles. There is a welsh saying about heavy rain - it sounds like old ladies with their sticks and this summed up the noise of the rain falling. Thunder claps filled the air and forks of lightening lightened up the sky. We knew that this part of the Garfagnana was dominated by hills and lush vegetation - none of which we saw due to the thick mist which enveloped everywhere.

Barga was described as a pretty hilltop village. We saw very little of it as we ran from the car park to the small restaurant on the other side of the road trying to avoid the rain unsuccesfully. We were soaked when we arrived at the restaurant door. The welcome was warm , pretty tableclothes on tables packed closely to each other. It seemed a mecca for tourists and locals alike. We were served by a lovely lady who greeted us in perfect English tinged with Italian/Scottish burr. Many people in Barga have families in the Dumfries area of Scotland so speak English. The menu choice was good but we chose the set menu of three courses each one proved to be as nice as the one before. Warming soup, veal and a pudding. A feast on a wet day. I would have been good on a clear day to sit on their balcony to eat as the view over the valley must have been fantastic.

Our second trip out the following day was to Pistoia. This was another one of those places you go to without any expectation and come back really surprised and delighted. Perhaps the best thing to do on holiday is just pick somewhere and hope for the best. It usually turns out quite well. The car parking was hard to find but we managed to locate a few slots in a tiny car park close to the town walls. It was not signposted well and we almost missed it. It proved to be a good location out of the sun and the piazza within walking distance. The piazza like most Italian towns was the hive of activity, locals shopping , young boys playing cards on the church steps. At first that looked strange but somehow it seemed right. They laughed and joked and were clearly enjoying themselves. We walked from the town centre to the walls. No-one had followed us and we spent a pleasant hour wandering round the walls. Not the medieval walls of Carcassone or Aigues Mortes but more like the Vauban forts in France. Remains from the second world war could be seen scattered in the fort - Guns and gun placements left to rot. It made the position of the fort feel very strategic.

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Photos

Pistoia
The Moorish belltower

Pistoia
The Duomo

Pistoia
The fort