When Bill and Nick returned from their outing – which included not only the Eye but a visit to the nearby Aquarium, we had some lunch and discussed plans for the afternoon. Given his way, Cal would have stayed in his pajamas all day, but I made him get dressed and we headed out for a visit to St. Paul’s Cathedral. Cal was the epitome of sullen martyr on the way to the church – he would not talk to either Bill or me, and had a look on his face that made it clear he was being tortured.

It was getting late in the afternoon and the vespers service was about to begin, so it was time to head back to Shelton St. But first we waited while the Cal made a brief foray through the gift shop, and then stopped to purchase an ice cream cone for the long suffering 14 year old.
We chose a bus route back to the Covent Garden neighborhood, enjoying the views as we crossed the City.

On our way home from the bus stop, someone (not me) proposed a detour to SCOOP for gelato, so Bill and the boys had a late tea of Italian gelato (Yes, Cal got a second serving!)

Our property manager was at the apartment when we returned – I had emailed him that morning with a note about a couple of things that needed attention, and he had said he would stop by at some point. He had corrected one problem, but needed to return to fix the others.

It was then time to clean up and dress for our dinner with Slow Travel friends at a Covent Garden restaurant. Of course, as we were the closest to the restaurant we were the last to arrive. I was delighted to renew my acquaintance with Hugh, Patrick and Susan, all of whom I had met in 2008 when Kristi and I visited London, and to introduce them to my family. We ate at Tuttons, a very nice restaurant close to the London Transport Museum at the edge of Covent Garden. Several hours of dining and conversation followed. The boys were delightful – polite, well mannered and full participants in the conversation. It was 10:30 when we finally left the restaurant – it was a lovely way to end our week in London.

I’d booked in to this old riverside pub in the Docklands area because it had gotten great reviews on a couple of websites. It was remote but a fun choice. To get there we took the underground and the Docklands Light Railway. Because we didn’t know where we were going we allowed some extra travel time, which was fortunate, as the transfer from the Underground to the Docklands Light Rail involved a long hike through underground corridors, and a short hike from the station to the pub.

The pub served a traditional Sunday roast lunch. The boys and I decided on roast beef; Bill opted for roast pork belly, which was quite good.

It was a lovely presentation, with a very generous portion of meat, rare, as requested, and a huge Yorkshire Pudding, as well as parsnips, carrots, green beans and another vegetable.

The boys shared a half pint of prawns as a starter, and Bill and I shared a lovely goat cheese salad with lovely baby greens. We splurged on a wonderful bottle of French wine, and had a very enjoyable time savoring our meal. We were all too full for dessert, which was probably just as well, as the meal was a splurge!

It had threatened to rain as we were arriving at the pub, but as the mid day wore on, the weather cleared, and we decided to visit Greenwich, which was just across the river. We walked to the nearest underground station and took the Dockland Railway across the river. We were very close to the Royal Naval Academy, so we headed in that direction to see what was there.

We had planned to make our way up to the Greenwich Observatory after the Naval College.. We had lost track of time, however, and after visiting one of the decorated buildings and the painted chapel, realized it was 5 pm and everything was closing down.

We opted to get back to London by water, so got tickets for one of the boats that plies the river,

and floated up river to the Embankment stop, where we disembarked and headed for home. No one was hungr y for supper, so we snacked on the bits and pieces we had in the apartment, and spent the evening watching TV.

After the tour, Bill & Nick popped into the White Tower to see the Crown Jewels, which didn’t interest Cal, so we sat in the sunshine and people watched. We then headed into the café for “11-ses”, where we refueled with coffee and pastries. Cal, our non coffee drinker, knowing I didn’t want him drinking yet more coke got a Pepsi instead…gotta love 14 year olds.

After our coffee break we watched a demonstration of how the medieval catapault worked, then had a stop at the gift shop while Cal finished his souvenir shopping, filling orders from several Facebook friends. We intended to walk along the river to Tower Bridge, but the access had been blocked, and there were warders, police officers and military personnel everywhere. We weren’t sure what was going on, but decided to take a different route to the bridge.

As we were walking across Tower Bridge, we understood why the river walk had been blocked . They had brought out the cannons, and at 1 pm there was a volley of cannon fire across the river, with military aircraft doing a fly by: all part of the celebration of the Queen’s birthday.

Once on the South bank we found a bus that took us by back streets to the London Eye; the area was crowded with visitors on this sunny afternoon. Bill & Nick were going to take a ride on the Eye, but the line for tickets was interminable, and they decided to wait until sometime when they could get there early in the morning.

The area around the Eye has become a stage for any number of street performers, with a lot of activity. As we walked along the river back towards the Jubilee Foot Bridge, we saw break dancers, a mime who involved audience members in his act, a family of bicycling frogs, and other street artists.

We walked over the bridge and up to St. Martins in the Field Church, where we had tea in the crypt and where I failed to talk the boys into doing a brass rubbing.

Bill and Cal then went on to Waterstones Book Store to find something for Cal to read. Nick & I returned to the apartment (it was about 4:30 by this time);Cal & Bill arrived a while later with three more books and an assortment of frozen prepared food from Tesco for dinner –thank heaven for the microwave. We had mac n cheese, chicken breast with mushroom and marsala sauce, green beans with mushrooms and toasted almonds, and a bacon, mushroom & leek quiche I’d bought a few days earlier to have on hand. After dinner, Cal had two bowls of Crunchy Nut cereal ; Nick fixed a packet of ramen, and Cal then found the peanut butter someone had left in the fridge, and had some of that with sliced green apple. We are clearly starving these boys.

There had been talk about getting last minute tickets for Stomp, which was at a theater just a block or two from the apartment, but the boys decided they would rather stay home and watch World Cup on TV.

The boys took their turns sauntering across the “zebra” crossing, photographed the street sign, and were ready to move on.

We caught a bus, went home, had a little down time for computer check in, then went out to dinner at Carluccio’s, one of a London group of Italian restaurants where Bill and I had had pleasant meals on previous trips. Great pasta for all but Bill, who was very pleased with what he said was the best beef liver he had had in years! Nick tried an Italian beer – I had a Bellini, Bill had a Sicilian red (which Nick tasted and said was awesome) and Cal had his usual coke. Dessert was gelato for the boys, affogatos for Bill & Judy – 80 pounds for dinner.

Back home we tried to convince the boys getting to bed at a reasonable hour would be a good thing – but it was not to be. It was a balmy Friday night and the World Cup matches had begun. It was party time, and somewhere nearby someone was having a great street party, with music that could be heard loud and clear in the boys’ bedroom!

We had found the downside to being so centrally located.

tag:www.slowtrav.com,2010:/blog/tourmama//67.12000 2010-06-20T18:12:32Z 2010-07-14T02:33:26Z

We started out by finding our way to the Dominion Theater, where the boys would be returning in the evening to see "We Will Rock You"... it turned out to be an easy 10 minute walk. We tried to pick up their tickets, but they had been purchased through an online ticketing service and hadn't been delivered to the theater yet.

That task completed, we decided to walk on to Bloomsbury and the British Museum - again, an easy walk from our "hood". Cal was not at his best - I realized he hadn't eaten much breakfast, and needed something to eat, so our first stop when we reached the museum was the cafe. They had a small selection of salads and sandwiches, and some hot food that looked yummy, but more than we wanted. Nick and I shared a crayfish and greens sandwich, and Bill and Cal had salads. Everything was fresh and tasty. After our "rest stop", we spent about an hour - hour and a half looking at the wonderful treasures from ancient Assyria and Greece. My favorite was this fantastic Temple of the Neriads from Western Turkey. It was spectacular.

We then went up to see some of the Egyptian collection, which is vast. Cal was delighted to see many mummies, and other fascinating artifacts. Walls on the stairway up to this floor were lined with fragments of mosaics - including this one, which was one of my favorites:

There were great gaggles of school children at every turn, each student with pencil and paper, trying to answer the quizzes they had been handed on entry. Here is a group of the younger ones with their teacher, fascinated by the mummified remains they were looking at.

It was clear that Cal was reaching sensory overload, so we decided to move on to something else, and left the museum. We didn't get far, however, as he saw a souvenir shop, and had to stop to check it out. He hit pay dirt - and was able to pick up a number of souvenirs for his Facebook buddies, and a baseball cap for himself with the British Flag design (which he later confided he would happily wear back in Illinois, but not in London where it would mark him as a tourist), We had our walking tour guide page with us and began to take a walk through Bloomsbury, but only got as far as Russell Square park, There was a lovely cafe in the park, and Grammy needed a liquid restorative AND to rest her feet, so we stopped for tea. Lucky decision - the skies opened up a few minutes later and it POURED. When tea had been consumed and the rains had let up, the consensus was we should just return to the apartment. There was a bus stop just a few steps away that left us off just a short walk from the apartment - thank heavens for bus route maps at the stops! The boys, key in hand, took off on their own to return home, while Bill and I stopped at Marks & Spencers to find something we could heat up for dinner, as no one was enthusiastic about going out to a restauarant. We found a pretty good lasagne and packets of prepared mixed vegetables that could be steamed in the microwave. A simple supper, but satisfying.

The boys were happy to have some down time for Facebook, Yahtzee, Uno and their books. Then, it was time to leave for our various theatrical venues. We took the boys to the theater, picked up their tickets, gave them money for refreshments at intermission, waved goodbye and took off for the nearby underground. There, in a sticky, humid atmosphere, we headed down interminable stairs and escalators to the tube to Bond St – it was packed. When we arrived at our stop we tried to cut through an alley to get to the hall for the 7:30 curtain we found ourselves in a dead end -- sigh, seemed inevitable, somehow! We retraced our steps and got to the theater with about 5 min. to spare. It was a wonderful concert by two talented singers -Elizabeth Watts, a young Soprano, and Christopher Maltman, a fabulous baritone. They sang a program of songs by Richard Strauss, which we enjoyed a great deal.
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Our concert lasted a few minutes less than 2 hrs, giving us 45 minutes to get back to meet the boys. Rather than descend into the bowels of the underground, we found a bus that was headed down Oxford St. to Tottenham Court Road, which gave us the opportunity to look at the shops as we passed. When we arrived at the theater we still had half an hour to spare, so went to a cafe/bar just next door and had a glass of wine(Bill) and cider (Judy) to pass the time. When we saw the crowd leaving the theater, we went to meet the boys. Cal wanted ice cream, and could not believe it wasn’t to be found on every corner. We walked home, expecting the boys to head straight to bed, but that was not to be. They had to have snacks and turn on the TV, and finally had to be prodded into bed.

The flight was uneventful and we even arrived in London ahead of schedule. We were surprised by how quickly we got through immigration -- hardly ANYONE was in line, which was a first for us. Our luggage was among the first that appeared on the carousel - another first - and we were through customs in a flash, as usual.

Everything then came to a roaring halt, due to - no surprise - the curse of the cell phone! It doesn't seem to matter where we go - the cell phone never fails to fail. We were to call the manager of our rental apartment from the airport, to arrange a time to meet -- the phone worked and I could place the call, but kept getting a message that the call could not be connected. Frustrated, I emailed the manager that we were en route, and we would try calling again from the tube stop when we arrived.

I tried again when we reached the Covent Garden underground station -- still no connection. But hooray, help was near. There was a Vodaphone shop right down the block. I went in, explained my problem, and found out that the number is cancelled after 6 months of non-usage (I had thought it was 12 months). Two minutes and 5 pounds later, I had a working phone, called our apartment manager, who was waiting for us there, and voila, in two minutes we were on our way up the elevator to our second floor (British - 3rd US). The building is a converted warehouse, with three apartments on each floor. Renovation is recent, and the interior is sleek and modern. There is a good sized entry hall, two bedrooms, good sized bathroom, adequate living room/dining area, and a good sized galley kitchen, complete with dishwasher, microwave and full sized fridge/freezer. The only negative is the master bedroom - I had not noticed when looking at the photos of this VRBO rental, that the bed is flush against the wall on one side -- a tight fit. I needed to hook up my CPAP (night time breathing machine) - so improvising, we sat it on top of Bill's suitcase, which serves as the nightstand. Of course the bed now sticks out about 3 inches into the doorway, so we can't close the bedroom door - but it is only a week.

After some cursory unpacking, we decided we should get the boys outside in the fresh air (by this time it was about 3 pm London time), so we walked the 3-4 blocks over to Covent Garden. We enjoyed browsing the craft stalls, listening to a great young group of musicians - a cellist, flautist and two violins who performed an entertaining set of diverse music, singing, dancing (envision a cello player doing the can-can while playing his instrument -- ditto the flautist) and having a jolly good time. They were very talented.

I found my first herd of London elephants, too! Similar to the cows that populated Chicago a few years ago, and some other copy-cat events, a group dedicated to saving asian elephants has had 250 of them decorated by local artists and installed around town for the month of June. They will be auctioned off early in July. We found half a dozen or so in Covent Garden, and a few others in the area. They are whimsical and fun.

After about an hour of wandering, we were ready to chill for a while - so we started back to the apartment, getting caught in a huge and heavy downpour en route. No one had believed it would rain (except yours truly) so I was the only one with an umbrella - and everyone ducked into doorways until the worst passed. We then stopped at a nearby Marks & Spencers for some basic groceries - milk, bread, fruit, cereal.

Home, we all put our feet up until it was time to eat, at which point we wandered the 3 -4 doors down the street to one of the restaurants on my list of places to eat -- Belgo, a Belgian restaurant specializing in mussels and in Belgian beers. Nick, Bill and I each had lovely sweet mussels - Bill had provencale, with a basil, garlic tomato sauce that was unctuous and rich; Nick had mariniere, and I had Moules Blancs - cooked in Belgian white beer with onions and rich smoky bacon. Very yummy. Cal, who does NOT like fish, opted instead for wild boar sausage with belgian "mash" - mashed potatoes with (oh HORRORS) vegetables -- carrots, and "something green". Undaunted, he ate most of my chips, which were very good. The three mussel eaters enjoyed beer with dinner - Cal was elated to be served coke in an original glass bottle, which is now waiting to be packed for a return to Illinois.

We decided to continue on to get our first view of the Thames, walking down past Scotland Yard and on to the Jubilee bridge. No energy to cross it however. Cal;s feet were aching, so he and I picked up the tube at Embankment, and Cal got his first lesson in the reality of underground riding- - when you need to change trains you have to go up and down stairs and through endless corridors, negating the benefits of the tube ride! When we got back to the apartment we found Bill and Nick had gotten there five minutes quicker by walking!

Finally off to bed - Cal commenting that his was the most comfortable bed he had ever been in.

The day was another fairly lazy one – after a late evening in Pisa on Tuesday we were all slow to rise, and by the time everyone was up, fed, showered and dressed it was almost 1 pm. It was an overcast morning, with a little drizzle, but little reduction in temperature. There was desultory discussion of an outing, but little forward movement. K & J made a run to the Wednesday Market for fresh vegetables and fruit and to the supermarket to replenish the milk and yoghurt supply, and brought back the fixings for a lovely insalata mista; a little later we sat down to a most satisfying Italian lunch – salumi, olives, bread, parmesan cheese with chestnut honey, pickled onions (agridolce and marinated in red wine vinegar), a bottle of very drinkable 1 euro vino rosso, followed by fresh peaches and watermelon.

We finally decided it would be a good day for a quick ride to nearby Barga – but by that time la Principessa was napping, so we spent siesta time playing Jenga and SET, and just being on vacation.

Barga is set high in the foothills, up a winding road through gorgeous green countryside. It is amazing how many small villages are tucked into the valleys of the Garfagnana. Barga sits atop one of the hills, with some of its 12th century defensive walls still in place. It is more like the hill towns further south – unlike Bagni, which stretches along the Lima river with its business area largely level, Barga’s streets twist and turn, with steep stairways connecting streets in the upper and lower part of the town.

With our unerring ability to visit on early closing day we found the tourist office and most shops closed, but enjoyed strolling through its compact center admiring the flowers blooming profusely on balconies, in gardens, and in pots. There were hydrangeas, roses, and geraniums in a spectrum of reds and pinks. The hills surrounding the town are covered in trees, a lush landscape.

At the very top of the town was the duomo – up a steep flight of stairs. La Nonna (that would be me) decided sitting on a bench in a small, quiet piazza in the shade would suit me better than climbing to the top, so I enjoyed a few minutes watching three little boys play soccer and a Nonno with his not yet two year old granddaughter who was intent on climbing everything in sight, and listening to the soprano voice emanating from a house somewhere in the area. We had noticed flyers for an opera recital on Friday night, featuring members of the Cardiff Opera Company from Wales – and one of the members of the company was clearly rehearsing.

Once again, our group dispersed to the four winds, and needed to be found and reminded we needed to return to freshen up for our special dinner treat – after a stop at the local gelateria for yet another wonderful scoop of refreshing limone and pesche for me – and chocolate for the kids. La Prinipessa, at almost five, announced she had a new motto – “another day, another Gelato” – smart kid!

We knew we had to make yet another stop at Conad for TP and more limonata, so four of us took off, leaving all three grandkids with D & E eating gelato, and made our way down the mountain, la nonna in the back seat as we whipped around the curves, future son in law Mario Andretti at the wheel! We made our grocery stop, then proceeded through town to the Casa Rossa, only to arrive and realize that D&E, who were somewhere behind us, had the key! And we had only about 15 minutes to change and get on our way to Vico Pancellorum for what turned out to be THE highlight of the trip to date!

The laggards arrived after only a couple of minutes, and everyone was sent to get ready – and surprisingly, in under 15 minutes everyone had morphed from shorts and t shirt clad tourists to slacks and skirt wearing sophisticates (well, comparatively) ready for a night in the village.
A short 20 minutes later we met Bill & Ida outside the church in the village which is so much a part of her life and upbringing, and which she was generous enough to share with us.

We went first to see her summer house – a classical three story villa which has been in her family for many years. It is beautifully decorated, and a true home. Family pictures hang in the hall and the kitchen, firmly establishing a sense of place and tradition – she is so lucky to have such wonderful records of her family and its history. She pointed out the nearby homes owned by cousins, and second cousins – we were surrounded! After a tour of the house, and a chance to see the fantastic view of the green hills visible from the top floor bedroom, we sat on the front steps for a group picture (on Ida's camera) before heading off up the hill to her cousin’s restaurant.

What a special experience we shared! We were introduced to cousins who owned and ran the restaurant, then seated and asked if we would like to see menus, or if we would like them just to choose for us and serve us what they thought we would enjoy! Guess what we decided….yep, and were we in for a treat.

We began with antipasti – an amazing liver pate with crostini; a variety of wonderful olives, thinly sliced roast pork with a special secret sauce, and a plate of fantastic cheeses. Oh – and a choice of frissante white or red wines, crunchy breadsticks, and crusty fresh bread. I was surprised and tickled to see la Principessa and her picky eater 13 year old cousin enjoying the pate and toast!

Antipasti were followed by huge platters of a superb risotto con zucchini – creamy, perfectly cooked, and oh so good! Ida reminded us to go slowly, there would be more – and even as we were scraping the bottom of the risotto platter, the homemade ravioli with butter and sage arrived – light and luscious pillows of goodness. We tried to eat slowly, enjoying and savoring each bite. I glanced down the table to where the 13 and 17 year olds were sitting – and saw them both taking seconds! Italian food has triumphed over food pickiness! Even the “pizza please, just cheese” principessa was enjoying her ravioli.

Then, just when we thought it couldn’t get any better, out came Luisa again with two heaping platters of the most incredible homemade papardelle I have ever enjoyed, each strand enveloped in a coating of zingara sauce! This is a speciality of the house, and Ida’s favorite. It was fantastic, and I definitely will be getting the recipe from her for this one!

Luisa and Giordana then came out to see what we would like as our secondi! It was by this time about 10:30 pm, and we had been eating for at least an hour and a half. I was amused when Luisa said she thought we might not want secondi, since we weren’t Italian. But we ARE lovers of quality food – so we decided to get single servings of a few of their offerings --- we got a little coniglio with olives, two servings of the pork ribs with honey and pine nuts (the boys devoured these before any of the grown ups could get a taste), and their signature cingiale, which, again, was the best I have ever tasted (and had been hunted by yet another of Ida’s cousins)! We all tasted, oohed and aahed, and only wished we could eat more!

Ida had asked Luisa (her cousin, the pastry chef) if she would fix a special treat for our dolce – so at the point when we could easily have walked out the door and gone hone totally sated and happy, Luisa arrived with a dish the size of an Olympic swimming pool filled with a pineapple tiramisu! Since D & E had decided that they needed to get la Principessa home and into bed (it was after 11 pm when they left), and taken the 13 year old with them, that left 8 of us to try to put a dent in the perfect dessert – it was light, not too sweet, and indescribably delicious. We managed (with 17 year old having two servings) to get through almost half of it. There was coffee for those who wanted it, and the tiramisu disappeared, only to reappear in a to go container – bigger than an 8” baking dish!

I have spent a great deal of time here rhapsodizing about the food – but what I haven’t mentioned is how this was another case of STers meeting for the first time and finding they were already good friends. We visited for hours with Ida and Bill as if we had known them for years, and enjoyed the interplay as cousins and second cousins wandered in to say hello. It was definitely a special evening, and I cannot thank Ida enough for making it possible.

But our son’s phone was still not operational, and daughter needed to purchase a SIM card, so we decided after nap time to take a ride into Lucca, visit a TIM phone store, and share one of our favorite Italian towns with the kids.

We were lucky enough to see a TIM store along the street as we drove into town, and then to find parking for both of our cars within a few blocks of the shop! We found that although David had sent registration form and passport copies to Telestial and had called them to confirm all was in order, they had not completed the registration process, so within a few minutes that was taken care of, daughter got a card for her phone and we were good to go. I was a little disturbed to find, however, that though Telestial advertised that the SIM cards allowed free calling between TIM cell phones, that was NOT a feature of the SIM cards we have – not the first time I have found Telestial’s information to be less than accurate

With phones set up, and a quick stop at a Bancomat refreshing the wallets, we were off to see a little of Lucca. We were lucky enough to be there during the passegiata, so the streets were full of local citizens exchanging greetings and chatting. We window shopped, admired the architecture of many of the lovely buildings, visited the ampitheatro where la Principessa indulged In the international child’s pastime of chasing pigeons; listened to part of a vocal recital from outside one of the churches, then decided it was time to find a place to eat.

I had hoped we could follow the footsteps of many who have gone before us and eat at one of the great restaurants in town, but the realities of travel with a four year old made it clear that something less formal and quicker would be better for all concerned, so we said thank you to Jerry for having talked about K2 Pizzeria, sat at a table outside, and enjoyed a very tasty meal. 17 year old surprised us all by ordering and devouring a pizza del mare, replete with clams and mussels in the shell along with other wonderful looking seafood. He loved it. 13 year old passed on pizza (kids are full of surprises) and opted for fritto misti, loving the calamari and even eating some of the fried zucchini, despite an avowed hatred for the vegetable. La Principessa ordered for herself – “ pizza con quatri formaggi, per piacere” – she much prefers that to a simple Margherita pizza.

It began to get dark as we finished dinner, and we walked back along the walls as night fell.

On Saturday we heard there would be a Medieval Festival in the Park on Sunday, with sword fight demonstrations, artisans and more. And on Sunday, beginning at about 10 am we could hear the opening salvos from our terrace a mile or so away – cannons and rifles were being demonstrated, and the noise echoed off the steep hills on either side of the valley. But heat and inertia kept us from voyaging into town until about 3 pm, when we decided to see If anything was still going on. And it was.

It was a small event, but interesting for adults and kids alike. There were probably 50 participants in medieval garb (and I didn’t envy them in the heat); a gentleman from nearby Monte Carlo was demonstrating how to grind wheat, using an old stone grinder that he invited others to try. An artisan with a lathe operated with a foot pedal was making lovely pieces from olive wood (including the beautifully crafted sword my 13 year old grandson decided he couldn’t live without); and a group of young men were offering samples of spiced wine (very good, but potent), and had a large display of medieval weaponry, which they demonstrated and described in very creditable English. My son has always been fascinated with medieval weaponry, and was in his element, especially when they put a full helmet on him and handed him a broadsword. La Principessa then decided she, too, wanted to be a warrior, and with helmet and dagger, assumed a fearsome persona that had the young men grinning broadly.

While we were enjoying all of this, we would periodically look over to the area where the guns were being demonstrated – and as the cannons and shotguns were loaded with powder we would periodically cover our ears, because volleys of shots were frequent and loud!

As the afternoon wound down, all of the participants gathered together and marched off to the central piazza for a final parade, with drums drumming, flags waving and being tossed by young marchers, the contadine with their wooden pitchforks and brooms, bows and arrows defining their roles.

Ringing the park where the festival was taking place were tables offering all sorts of local products – and we were delighted to be able to buy fresh baked bread, two kinds of honey, and eggs from a local farm, sold by the egg – we bought all the 11 the farmer had!

It was fun to get a glimpse into the past.

“This is Ida”, said la figlia – at which point I did a double take, remembering that Vico Girl spent summers somewhere near Lucca.

“Are you Palma’s Ida?” I asked. Her mouth fell open, and she said yes, she was – and asked if I was part of Slow Travel. It doesn’t matter where you go – Slow Travel has a presence there!

Ida said she was staying at her home in Vico Pancellorum, and we mentioned that the owner of our B&B had recommended a restaurant there – which, as it turns out, is owned and operated by one of Ida’s cousins! She encouraged us to come up for dinner one night during the week, and we agreed we would do so. We talked a while longer, then realized we needed to get to the market before it closed, and parted with a promise to get together later in the week.

It was fun introducing our kids to a typical mercato in Italy. And even more wonderful was shopping and purchasing large quantities of fantastic produce. We bought tiny green beans, little pale green zucchini with the flowers still attached, large deep red tomatoes, and fresh basil, onions, garlic, potatoes, huge dark purple figs, raspberries, strawberries, early peaches, and what I am sure was the world’s largest watermelon! And as the sales woman was totaling our bill, she added a few stalks of celery, a handful of parsley, and a couple of carrots – the foundation of a good sugo! We also bought two lovely rotisserie chickens, cheese and prosciutto, and a fresh loaf of whole wheat bread. We were ready for dinner and Sunday breakfast!

Refreshed by a stop at the local bar for cappucinos (adults) and gelato (kids), we were ready to move into our home for a week – the lovely Casa Rossa di Campigli, a 4 bedoom villa with pool that I had found on the internet. The listing did mention that the road approaching the house was narrow; this proved to be an understatement. And as we tried to find the house (Harriet proving to be totally useless at finding the location on its tiny country lane), we found that there was parking for only one car – with additional parking about ¼ mile down the road, with a gravel path up to the road to the house… so we parked two of the cars in the “auxiliary” lot, loaded ALL the luggage into the third, and we trudged up the path to the house. Yes – moving days are about as much fun as travel days!

Once we got there, however, we were delighted. The house was spacious, immaculately clean. Bill and I had the ground floor bedroom, which actually was a one bedroom apartment with an efficiency kitchen and a private doorway out to a side patio. On the first floor there was a large, well appointed kitchen, a dining room with a long country table that would seat all of us easily, and a large living room with TV, stereo, and shelves of books and games. On the second floor were three more bedrooms, one of which had stairs to a loft with an additional bed and half bath. Most important to the younger set, there was a large swimming pool just outside the door! We were on the edge of the town, surrounded by trees, close enough to the river to hear it, though we could not see it. Bagni is set in a narrow valley nestled between wooded hills, and we were surrounded by green!

The rest of the day was spent settling in, meeting our landlady and her 6 year old son, and enjoying being at home.

The master plan – another one of those Judy decisions that wasn’t nearly as brilliant as it seemed in California – was that Grandad would take most of their luggage and the grandsons to Prato, while our daughter and her fiancé joined me on the local bus from the airport to Prato. According to the online Prato bus schedule, the bus from Florence to Prato stopped frequently at the airport. NOT! We asked half a dozen people and they were unanimous in their response – to get the bus to Prato, you need to take the airport bus to Florence to the train station, and catch it there. It was hot, the new travelers were tired, and expedience won out over economy, so we piled into a taxi, and only 33 euros later arrived in Prato, after a delightful conversation with our woman driver.

Why Prato? Good question. It made sense at home – the cost of renting a car away from the airport was noticeably cheaper than renting from the airport, and Prato was the first town in the westerly direction. Makes sense, right? Well – factoring in the taxi fare and the need to kill time until the mid day closure at the car rental location ended at 3 pm, the savings were not worth the aggravation. However, we had a pleasant lunch in Prato, sat in the park for a while, and then daughter and fiancé went off to get their car.

With the help of Harriet the GPS, we easily found our way out of Prato and to Bagni di Lucca – but when it came to finding the B&B where we would be staying, it was another matter. The B&B was on a tiny little side street too narrow to drive down, where the house numbers were apparently assigned based on random number theory, and on first try we could not find the house number at all! I called our landlord in frustration – he apologized and explained the house was tucked in at the end of a tiny walkway, between two houses with street numbers totally out of sequence with that of the B&B.

By the time we schlepped all the luggage down the hill and into the house it was almost 5 pm, and I expected my son and his family to arrive at any moment: they had flown to Pisa from Amsterdam, and were picking up their car there.

The B&B had a lovely garden and a pool, so the boys quickly donned their suits and cooled off, while the rest of us sat under the pergola enjoying the warm afternoon breeze, and chatting with our host when he arrived home around 6 pm. We kept trying to reach our son on his cell phone, but got a repeated message that the number was not active…very frustrating. After they got out of the pool the boys decided to walk down to the center of town to see if by chance figlio and family were wandering around there – but saw no sign of them.

Finally, about 7:30 pm we decided we had to take the new arrivals to dinner, as they were looking decidedly bleary eyed. Just as we arrived at the top of the street where we had parked our cars, a very hot, frustrated and cranky son drove up; his phone was not working (despite the fact that he had sent all the required forms and passport copies to Telestial and had been told the phone HAD been activated), he had not been able to get a GPS when he picked up the car, he got lost driving through Lucca, and had reached the end of his rope, only to be frustrated by not being able to find the B&B. We convinced him he should just park his car and walk with the boys down the quarter mile to the centro to Del Sonno, a simple pizzeria that had been recommended both by our B&B host and by the owners of the Villa we had rented. They happily accommodated our group of nine, and we had a simple supper of food we knew the kids would enjoy.

Finally, our family was together.

We started out for Torrechiara castle, an easy ride through rolling fields of wheat. But then we reached an area of roadway that was obviously very new – a tangentiale that ringed a town. It was clearly not on Harriet’s map – in fact, on the screen there was a large blank spot…and in a somewhat frantic tone, Haarriet began to urge us to “at the first possibility, MAKE A U TURN”. We continued along the tangentiale, and Harriet continued to exhort us to “ MAKE A U TURN”. Clearly she felt we were in danger of disappearing into some kind of parmesan black hole. Finally, we reached a point where the new road joined with an older one, and Harriet took a deep breath, advised us she was “recomputing”, and we continued on our way.

What Harriet didn’t tell us was that although the ride was lovely, and the castle hovering over the town was impressive, it was also closed, due to damage from an earthquake that hit the area in December 2008. We did get to see some lovely countryside, though – and walked through the quiet and tiny village that was part of the castle grounds.

On our way back we stopped at a second castle in Sala Baganza, which we were able to visit. There, there were sections that were not accessible, where the earthquake had caused fresco covered walls and ceilings to crack, and where we saw “bandaids” keeping the plaster in place.

We took a route back to Vicofertile that took us through a lush and green regional park, rolling hills and verdant woodlands. It was lovely.

It would have been nice to have a day or two longer to explore further – we had considered going to Cremona one day to see the musical instrument museum, and to visit Ferrara, but that, too, will have to wait for the next trip.

With apologies to those who may find the next few paragraphs boring, I found the process fascinating. The farm at Agriturismo Leone produces the hay and corn that feeds their 200 cows, but they contract with a local manufacturer who produces the cheese for them and one other farmer. They get an average of 2800 liters of milk per day, in two milkings. The evening milk is delivered and pumped into stainless steel trays where it sits overnight before the cream is skimmed off the top to be used for butter and for pig food for the pigs that become prosciutto di parma. The morning milk is then added, and the mixture goes into deep copper vats, heated and left until the curds and whey separate.

Shortly after we arrived the three cheesemakers began the labor intensive process of gathering the curd into a cheesecloth. Each vat provides enough curd for two 40 kilo wheels of cheese, so the curds are heavy, as they are full of water at this point.

Each round gathered is cut into two pieces, which are then transferred to molds where they are weighted and left to drain for 8 hrs. A band is added that pierces the outer edge with a code to indicate the producer and the month/year, and the rounds continue to drain for three days, after which they are put into water troughs with pure sea salt.

They are left there for 23 or 24 days, rotated daily to ensure they age properly. Then they are transferred to racks and put in a “hot room” to dry for one day before being moved to the aging room, where the racks stretch to the ceiling. The wheels must age for a minimum of one year before they can be stamped as “parmigiano reggiano” and sold.

There is a rigid standard, and the association that oversees the process regularly tests the milk at the farm for its purity, and the aging wheels. Most of the cheese we saw would be sold after it had aged one year, but a percentage is aged for 2 years or more, and a small amount for three years. Lola explained that at three years the flavor is very intense, and used primarily for grating to use over pasta.

After our visit to the factory, we returned to the farm, where we toured the cow barns (we also found a group of about 15 summer day camp children having a day on the farm, where they visited the cows, were taken out to where the corn and hay were grown, as well as the tomatoes and onions the farm grows for sale). I commented that there was a strong movement in the US NOT to confine the cows to barns. Lola explained that cows producing the milk for parmesan cheese HAD to be confined, as they had to be fed only hay and a grain mixture of corn, rice and one other grain whose name escapes me; it the cows were let out of the barn, their milk would include other grasses, and not be useable for parmesan. We were surprised by the technically sophisticated methods being used – each cow wore a transmitter that measured and controlled how much feed it had eaten (the cows pushed on a door to release a pre measured quantity of grain, and if a cow had eaten its limit, the door would not open), how much they weighed, etc.

We were then invited into the breakfast room, where a huge wedge of two year old parmesan awaited us, with a basket of a special bread, homemade mostarda and marmellata, and two kinds of balsamico. A bottle of a friend’s home brewed malvasia was then opened, and we ate our fill and more of the delicious combination of parmesan , bread and wine. It was a very special morning.

Of course nothing is as easy as planned –the directions we were given to the small under-used parking lot near the internet spot seemed to take us directly into a ZTL zone,(restricted access) which we knew could lead to unbudgeted expense, so we detoured and eventually were lucky enough to find a spot not TOO far from our destination. It was an interesting neighborhood across the river from the centro, with halal kebab shops next to the pizzerias, the Sierra Leone social organization’s headquarters, and a diverse population.

The primary reason for checking internet was to find out the status of the debit card – and I was pleased to find an email confirming the freeze had been removed from my record. So while I read through my emails, Bill took my ATM card to a nearby bancomat where, finally, it worked!

We stopped at a lovely little bar/café for a quick dose of caffeine, and while we were drinking our cappuccinos, watched the proprietor making a large quantity of lovely looking piadine (using the typical ER flat bread), and Panini. We decided as it was almost lunch time we would buy a couple and stop at the Ducal Park for an al fresco lunch. We added some wonderful fruit at a local shop – cherries and apricots – and enjoyed a pleasant lunch in the shade of the park.

Then it was off to the Camera di San Paolo, where we experienced “Italian time”. We got there at 1:20, knowing it closed at 2 pm. We went to the ticket office, where we were told we only had 20 minutes to view the frescoes; we had to leave the building by 1:45, so they had time to close up BY 2 pm. In reality, we had plenty of time to enjoy the frescoes, as the space is fairly small. The Correggio ceiling was delightful, with some of the most mature looking putti I have ever seen – and wonderful decorative effects in the borders and decorations.

Also on our list of things to see was the Teatro Farnese – but oops! Turns out it, too, closes at 2 pm. So that stays on our list for next time.

We then spent some time doing what we do best – wandering the back streets, with no specific goal in mind except to see if the weekly market was still happening; as we thought, it had closed down.
We returned to our favorite café next, enjoying the theater of the street as we rested our feet and had a cold drink – the weather has been very warm ever since our arrival, and the mid afternoon heat is enervating!

We then continued on to the Chiesa di San Giovanni Evangalista to see more Correggio frescoes. I felt like I had walked into an Italian movie! In one of the side chapels there was a group of vecchie donne, apparently the local prayer group reciting innumerable Hail Marys; a young priest who alternated sitting in a rear pew in contemplation with bustling about moving empty floral vases from one place to another, then making a tour of the church checking everything out, then returning to his contemplative post, all while an earnest young man was lecturing a group of several wheelchair bound visitors and their attendants in Italian about the frescoes (unfortunately, softly enough that we couldn’t hear what he was saying over the voices of the praying women). Then as we were getting ready to leave, we heard an unhappy child being carried in – her behavior indicated she was autistic, and the women from the prayer group were more than anxious to fuss over her…while the young priest watched the door, making sure all of the wheel chair group left without harm. Strange – and somewhat surreal.

Once out the door, it was back to reality—there was a very busy and popular gelateria right across the street, where packs of teens and pre-teens came and went, and where several mothers with pre-schoolers sat on doorsteps enjoying cones and cups. We refueled before returning to our car and retreating to our country farmhouse.

Dinner was at the local trattoria – about half a mile from the Agriturismo down a narrow country road in the middle of nowhere. Had we not been told about it we would have driven right by, as it had no sign on the road, and looked like an anonymous building – except for the shaded terrace tucked to one side, where tables were elegantly set with gold and white linen tablecloths, and where, by the time we left, cars were parked on both sides of the road for a quarter of a mile!

There were two parties of 8 – 10 and another of 6, and it was clearly a local favorite, as most of the customers stopped to chat as they arrived.

At the recommendation of our hostess we ordered one of the trattoria’s specialties – a primo called a savarine di riso, which had to be ordered by a minimum of two people. We had no idea what to expect , but it was one of the most amazing treats of our trip. It was a perfectly flavored mushroom risotto, creamy and redolent of the special perfume of porcini. But the risotto was encased in a bowl shaped packet of rosy prosciutto, so as we cut into the meat, we found the risotto inside. Needless to say there was not a bite left on either of our plates! We wished we had had the sense NOT to order a second course - especially when our two first choices proved to be off the menu that evening. One of these days we will do as the Italians do, and order one course at a time! Our roast duck (Bill) and roast chicken (me) were tasty, but could not live up to the first course, and neither of us was really hungry enough to do them justice.

We sat enjoying the evening breeze as we finished our wine and acqua con gaz, and staggered home wondering again at those who were arriving at 9:45 just as we were finishing our meal.