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Published: September 19th 2015
Last night it was so quiet and dark. You can almost touch the stars here in Tereglio. I stood outside before going to bed just marveling at the moon and stars.
This morning I woke up early and came into the kitchen and sat at the kitchen table here. I thought of all the people who have been before me sitting in this room. If these walls could talk, what great stories I could write. After an hour or so Kirsten comes in hello honey, good morning. I’m just updating the blog. Good everyone will be happy.
Kirsten fixes coffee, soft eggs, meats, cheeses and bread; another nice European breakfast.
After breakfast and sending up my status report (Di Blog) we pack up and decide to visit Lucca.
Now this town is north of Pisa and doesn’t get much attention. However, it should. It has a beautiful wall circling the city with a dry mote. I have always wanted to walk the city wall and maybe today I might get the chance. But first, today is market day and Kirsten wants to visit the market then the city. Me…. I’m
looking for the chicken man. I can taste it now can’t you?
Kirsten drives down the mountain beeping and swerving through the curves liked greased lighting. Only until this HUGH construction truck caring a load up the mountain cuts her off in a curve. I swear my front wheel went off the edge of the cliff. My ass is still puckering.
We finally made it to Lucca the S12 drops us out right in front of the North gate entrance. Kirsten starts looking for a parking spot and within 50 meters finds one. I don’t think this is a legit spot honey “It’s ok everyone is parking here”. I know one of these days we’ll return and the car will be gone. I’m sure of it. Kirsten is half way to the market and I’m bringing up the rear as usual.
I spot the chicken man; hundreds of chickens in their majestic cooking machine nice and brown covered with spices and herbs. My mouth is salivating, I’m pulling my money out of my pocket and Kirsten grabs me and says we’ll get it on the way out. What if they’re gone don’t be silly they’ll be here.
I walk away like a defeated dog from a fight with a Chihuahua.
I’m telling you this market was the biggest on this trip. They’re lined up every street and down the alleys. Shoppers and kids everywhere, Kirsten yells over her shoulder watch you wallet and money. I’m twitching with every bump in the crowd and Kirsten is just flowing through the crowd with out a care. I’ve got my hands in all my pockets feeling up myself like I’m on a first date.
After 45 minutes of looking at stuff and more stuff. We end up in the Plaza Napoleon. Its noon and Kirsten ask are you ready for a snack? Yea! I spot this café and grab the table in the corner with shade. Kirsten is off to find the WC that’s restroom in Italian. Our waitress walks up and I order Due Bierre and point to the appetizer item on the menu. It’s a mixture of meats, olives, cheeses and bread. She smiles and says that pretty large are you sure you want that in perfect English. Yea I’m hungry.
Kirsten returns and her beer is waiting for her we toast to a wonderful
The appetizer arrives and we dig in. After an hour of eating and people watching Kirsten is ready to see more of Lucca. Every time we’ve visited it been raining and cold..not today. I tell Kirsten how I would like to walk the wall it’s not big. She says sure honey. So we wind and go into the main Duomo and do all the sight seeing stuff. All along I’m thinking we’ll get on the wall and walk back to our illegally parked car. I’ll buy my chicken and that will be the end to a wonderful day in Lucca.
Well as were walking toward the wall I see that it’s the same entrance we came in. All the vendors are gone, the chicken man is cleaning up his truck washing out the oven where the chickens were roasting. I run up and ask in broken Italian Uno CHICKEN PREGO, PREGO! NO Finish, CHOW. I’m broken I’m standing there in a daze how can this be happing. Kirsten quickly tips toes past me saying SORRRRYYYYY………
The ride back to Tereglio is quiet, yep all I wanted was roasted chicken and to walk on the city wall.
Finally Kirsten says I’ll fix you a home made Italian dinner tonight it’ll be better than any roasted chicken. I look at her and smile….it better be.
So as I’m finishing this blog Kirsten is slaving over the stove and it smells like Momma Mia’s kitchen. If it tastes half as good as it smells it’ll be better that any roasted chicken.
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