We were up with (before) the larks to head to Bristol airport at early o’clock to catch a 6 am flight to Naples, and by 9 am UK time, 10 am in Italy, we were off the aeroplane and in a queue, expecting to have our faces scanned and fingerprints taken as part of the EU’s EES system but despite queuing past a row of machines, we did not give up our bio-metrics, instead 15 minutes later we had cleared customs and found the Alibus to take us into central Naples. Barely pausing to cross the road (I am getting brave!) we headed straight into the train station, bought tickets (on our trainline app) and headed south for an hour and a half to our base for the next few day, Salerno.
Our host kindly met us of the train, and drove us the 5 minutes to our apartment, a pleasant room in the old town. On the way, he did tell us that it was unseasonably cold, normally by now he would have swum in the sea, and taken his boat out, instead he was wearing a wooly hat against the cold!
Dropping off our bags, we headed out for a quick explore and my, the wind was strong and cold! The sky was grey and threatening rain (that mercifully never manifested itself) and, if I’m honest, against this backdrop, Salerno did not really sell itself. It lacked the charm of a rustic Italian town, and couldn’t make this up with the characterful chaos of, say, Naples. But coffee and cake makes everything better, and being away is better than being bored at home.
We returned to our apartment where I enjoyed a late afternoon snooze – not only had we been up uber-early, it was the first day of my Easter holiday, having only just broken up the day before from a long and gruelling Spring term. Revitalised by sleep, and bundled up against the weather, we headed back out into town to eat, enjoying pizza and tiramsu.
… before heading home for yet more much needed sleep!
And so the day dawned on our final giorno (day!) in Italy – waking up in Pisa, once again the sky was clear, the air a little cold, but promising to warm as the day unfolded. With a late afternoon flight, we had a morning to spend in town before heading to the airport. Not wanting to lug our luggage around with us, and not able to leave it at our accommodation (We did ask, they said no, which was fair enough. Had we been staying in a hotel, I suspect we could have left it, but we weren’t and we couldn’t) so we used “Bounce” to find a left luggage space – there were plenty to choose from – we booked and paid online, and dropped our luggage of at a cafe, all very simple and easy.
This being a strike day, we then headed to the train station to ask if the PisaMova would be working, the helpful chap at TrenItalia info told me it was a different company so he couldn’t be sure, but as it is a largely automated system, he thought it would be working.
And then a short walk to our favourite Pisa cafe for la colazione (breakfast – a new Italian word I have just learned)
… and then a wander up through town to, and across the river looking peaceful and serene as it flowed from Florence in the winter sunshine …
… and we found a sunny spot to enjoy our last Tuscan sun of the trip.
We would have happily spent all day there, but an EasyJet flight back to Bristol awaited and we headed back down to the train station to discover that it looked like the PisaMova had succumbed to the strike, and wasn’t in operation. But no problem – we took a taxi instead, which for two, works out cheaper than the PisaMova (PisaMova is 6.50Euros each, taxi fixed price from station to airport is 11 Euros – with a 2 Euro tip, it costs the same to take a taxi as to take the PisaMova.)
Once on board, the flight home was less than two hours, the bauble hung on the tree, and the hap-pea travelling of 2025 comes to an end (but don’t worry – plenty of plans for 2026 already made!)
We woke, again, to a crisp, clear sky and decided to head 40 minutes up the train track to have a look at Pistoia, another Tuscan town. As we speed through the beautiful countryside, we marvelled at the mist, gently rising over the fields, a spectacular winter vista. But then we began to rise, at first slightly, but definitely noticeably as we entered a tunnel. We emerged from the tunnel into either fog, or low cloud. Not sure which, but the distinction doesn’t really matter. We hadn’t appreciated that Pistoia was little- not a lot, but enough – higher than Lucca, and there was no escaping it, we were in cold, damp conditions.
So what did we do? Find a cafe of course! Everything is better after Italian coffee and cakes.
Becky liked this cafe for the pastries …
I liked it for the view and company!
To be fair, Pistoia was (is) pretty,
there was a colourful market, a sculpture I didn’t find the meaning of, and plenty of shops selling pretty things
but we couldn’t get away from the cold and damp,
so after a few hours we headed back, briefly to Lucca
Our flight is 4.40pm tomorrow, and our original plan had been to stay in Lucca for one last night and then head to Pisa in the morning, have a mooch around the city before heading to the airport. But a couple of weeks ago we discovered that tomorrow (Friday 12 December) was a day of general strike in Italy, and we can’t guarantee that the trains will run, so we said “Arrivederci” to Lucca
and “Ciao” to a much warmer Pisa where we would spend the night
We headed out as the sun set, took in the lights and a street market, buying a Christmas bauble memento
and I was delighted to once again spot an original Fiat 500
We headed up to the tower – it wasn’t lit up – bit the space was pretty, and we both liked the sculptures of two horses …
Before enjoying a delicious last supper, a pleasant stroll back across the Arno to our apartment, ending the day much warmer than we had begun it.
When we first discovered Lucca in April ’24, one of the things we fell in love with were the wide city walls that encircle the city. They are a wide, tree lined boulevard that encircle the city, about 5km in circumference and are perfect for a stroll, a cycle or a run. So after a breakfast of – yes, you’ve guessed it! – coffee and pastries, we set of to walk all around the town.
It was very pretty, some trees had lost all their leaves, some were still a delicious autumn yellow, and some were falling from the branches, giving the feel of a warm autumn day rather than the mid-December day it was.
And some of the leaves were massive!
As we walked, the sun came out, the coats came off, and we found a bench to sit and soak up the sun and the ambience in this tranquil, beautiful space.
Having circumnavigated the city, it was time to have some lunch and we went to a little restaurant that we had discovered on our first visit. The food was squisito – Italy does do food so much better than anywhere else. We shared two dishes, home made ravioli, and a pork focaccia sandwich, before completing perfection with a tiramisu pudding.
Having decided that we hadn’t walked enough steps by now, after lunch we headed up the bell tower of the church near our apartment. 3 euros each, and 270 steps up …
to the top of the bell tower
It was worth it, the views were magnificent
and in this one, you can see where we were staying (the red arrow marks the spot)
And then it was time for afternoon cakes!
It has been a holiday of chilling: eating delicious food, in beautiful surroundings, just watching the world go by. Holidaying at this time of year, we probably have spent more in cafes on coffee and cake than in, say the summer, as what else do you do? (Its a hard life!!) But to counteract that, not many people want to/can go on holiday in early to mid December so flights and accommodation have been cheap – we’ve spent about £300 in total for the flights and accommodation for our five day trip (and that’s in total, not each)
And as night fell, we set out to once again enjoy the festive lights of Lucca. The streets were much quieter than they had been on Monday night, but the lights no less beautiful.
Day two of our Italian travels and it was up early to catch a train to Florence which was, of course, beautiful. First stop was our favourite cafe (how pretentious is that, to have a favourite cafe in Florence) for breakfast of coffee and cakes, before heading out to wander the streets under a clear blue sky, and ever warmer sun.
We didn’t get our artistic hit from the Uffizi gallery, instead seeing our works of out on the street. We saw and “collected” a lot of Clet Abraham’s “No Entry” signs – playful and fun, and adding a purpose (if you needed one) to just walk the streets of the city
We also saw a few iconic images of iconic images with added googles:
and there was other street art if you kept your eyes open:
and Becky was particularly keen to find some work by Kraita317, with his distinctive style:
She was particularly happy when we stumbled upon a complete picture
It was a beautiful day in a beautiful city, and by the afternoon the sun was strong and warm – what else could one do but sit on the banks of the Arno, drink coffee and soak up some December sunshine:
By nightfall, the city became even more beautiful and magical, if that was possible. A spell binding city, and possibly better seen under the December sun (and night) than in glorious spring sunshine, but accompanying hoards? (https://hap-pea-travels.co.uk/italy/the-italian-job-day-5/ )
After the wonderfully warm dry summer, it has been a long, grey, and very wet autumn and early winter in the UK so it was a very pleasant surprise when we stepped of the plane to be greeted with blue skies and warm Pisan sun. We didn’t linger long in Pisa, instead taking the PisaMova from the airport to the train station before getting a train for the 30 minute journey to Lucca, our base for the next few days.
The sun continued to shine on us as we made our way to our apartment in the historic old town, dropping our bags off, and heading out to explore the town as the light began to fade. By luck more than judgement, we had arrived on a local bank holiday, the Christmas lights having been first turned on on Saturday, and Monday evening was a local Christmas celebration, and it seemed like everyone in the whole town and surrounds had crammed into the town to eat, drink, shop and be merry.
Whilst enjoying our first Italian coffee, cakes and focaccia, we heard the beating of a drum and the clear deep boom of a tuba, we followed the sound and found the local brass band belting out some Christmas classics.
After listening to them in the square, they set off, still playing, through the streets and so we followed them.
We continued to wander the streets, exploring this pretty Italian town, enjoying the lights and festivities.
As the evening wore on, the crowds began to thin, and by the time we had had something to eat the main square that had been packed full earlier in the evening had returned to a scene of calm serenity and beauty, and we headed home, happy after the first day of our latest Italian escapade.
The last day of our hols, and we headed off to Lucca, a very picturesque town about twenty minutes from Pisa. Although the temperature had dropped from the unseasonable highs of earlier in the week, we headed out under blue skies and wandered through its streets, before arriving at, and climbing, Guinigi’s tower. Only 220 steps to the top of this one, and on top, are some trees adding to the splendour of the views.
We both very much liked Lucca, small and pretty, and not crammed with tourists. But as we wandered the streets, we glimpsed the skies out over the distant hills looking very dark and foreboding. Five minutes later, we felt a drop, then another, and, as it was mid-dayish we wisely took shelter in a small restaurant just before the heavens opened.
We’ve been lucky with the weather, and have enjoyed the sunshine we’ve been missing back in the UK, but it is always a shame when it rains on your hols. Anyway, within an hour the showers passed and we headed on to Pietrasantra, a very “arty” town full of sculptures (and once again, blue skies and sunshine.)
We then hopped on another train back to Pisa, and headed for our “last supper”. As we meandered back to our apartment across the bridge, looking one way saw beautiful blue sky and a setting sun, looking the other saw angry dark grey clouds above the mountains.
We got back to our apartment, ready to pack, and heard the rumble of thunder, followed by the thud of heavy rain on the roof. Perhaps it is the gods telling us our time here is done, and we must return from whence we came!
As I said in an earlier post, the ideal time to see Florence was 30 years ago.
Today, we went back into Florence, beginning our day by climbing Giotto’s tower, the magnificent tower at the side of the cathedral, affording magnificent views across of the duomo itself and the city and its surrounds. We had to ascend 414 steps to reach the top, but it was worth the breathlessness of the climb to have one’s breath taken away by the view.
We had pre-booked the ticket, and only had to queue for 10 minutes to reach the base of the tower, but the rest of the main square, the Pont Vecchio and all the streets in the vicinity were absolutely packed. Florence is lovely, but it is over crowded (and I accept that we, too, are a part of the problem.) So after we descended from the tower, we headed south, across the Arno river to the Rose garden, an oasis of peace and tranquillity. Having bought some filled foccacia sandwiches to take with us, we sat amongst the greenery and beautiful flowers (Italy in April is a couple of months on from England, it feels, looks and smells like early summer) for a couple of hours. Heaven on earth, I rather imagined that I was the gentleman in the statue, head tilted skywards, eyes closed, enjoying the kiss of the Italian sun on my cheek.
In the afternoon we bade “arrivederci” to Florence and took a train back to Pisa, our base for our last two nights. This evening, after a delicious pizza meal, we ambled back to see the leaning tower, where our trip began a week ago. At 8pm, unlike midday when we were here before, the space, whilst not quite deserted, was certainly empty and we got to view the tower, and surrounding buildings, in almost splendid isolation.
It was a very different experience seeing the iconic tower in the fading light; with no crowds it was a far more enjoyable and peaceful experience and I was surprised in the difference a few hours can make. I am loving the “Italian Job” and our journeys across Tuscany, but I have been surprised at how busy some places have been (this is mid-April, not high summer) and the positive difference it can make when you escape the throng, and enjoy the landscape far from the madding crowd.
The old buildings and architecture have been a joy to behold, but I do also have a soft spot for an old car. And not just expensive, flashy sports cars, I like the old workhorses of the day. Two years ago, in a mid-life crisis moment, I bought myself a 30 year old Peugeot 205 (sadly, a diesel, not the hot-hatch GTi) off eBay that I have got back on the road. On this trip, I have enjoyed seeing some boxy old Fiat Pandas from the early ’90s, and then this evening, parked up all on its own, I saw an original Fiat 500:
A wonderfully stylish, tiny little car, with a small air cooled engine that was the height of Italian chic in the sixties. You can see its lineage in the modern Fiat 500 that is so popular on the roads today, but I would trade ten of the modern version for an original like this.
They are tiny, so to give a bit of scale, I had to have my photo taken next to the car:
I’m not sure I would actually fit in it, but as stylish and delightful to my eye as any fresco or facade we have seen on our trip!
Growing up, in England, in the ’70s and early ’80s the food was bland. boring and beige. Most meals revolved around potatoes in one form or another and any accompanying veg had been boiled for far too long, turning it into a tasteless mush. Although I remember nothing of it (we left when I was about 18 months old) my family had spent several years in Malaysia and so, when we returned to the UK, we did eat quite a bit of rice, but I soon realised we were an outlier, and many people would describe any rice dish that wasn’t Rice Pudding – a creamy, sugar laden, sweet dessert – as “foreign muck.”
Probably because of living overseas, my mum was a bit of an early adopter when it came to new food trends and I reckon in was in the mid-eighties, my early(ish) teenage years, that a new meal came into vogue and made it on to my dinner plate: Spaghetti Bolognese. I loved it. Until I moved to London for university, spaghetti was the only pasta I knew, and bolognese the natural accompaniment for it. Across the country it became affectionately known as Spag Bol. I don’t think the youth of today (and by youth, I probably mean anyone born after 1980!) quite comprehend that pasta was new and novel (and to some, a little bit frightening and threatening) to many of us, and we didn’t encounter it until early adulthood.
So, as soon as we had decided we were going to Bologna, I determined that I must have spaghetti bolognese in its native city. Now, of course, no such dish actually exists outside the UK, but the closet thing on the menu was Tagliatelle Ragu. And with Tiramisu (I was in my twenties when I first encounted this delicious “pudding”) and coffee to finish, it was the perfect meal, in the perfect setting, with the perfect company.
Bologna itself was a beautiful city, I really enjoyed our visit. I was beautiful, but it was a “working” city more than a tourist city, and this gave it a greater sense of authenticity. It has a beautiful square, with beautiful basilica, but it is primarily famous for its porticoes – covered walkways. It has a the largest covered walkway, with 660 porticoes – covered archway, leading to the Santa Maria de san Luca, a church atop a hill just outside the city limits. We didn’t start at the beginning, instead taking the bus to Arc de Meloncello, and began our walk to the top from there, portico number 285. It took about 30-40 minutes to reach the top, but the views along the way, and from atop the hill, were stunning.
I could, and I will, tell you about the beauty of Siena (above) and San Gimignano (below) and the stunningly spectacular Tuscan countryside, about how we travelled to Siena, and then to San Gimignano before returning to a Florence bathed in the evening sunshine, but that would be to miss today’s story, and the true essence of travel.
Whilst I may joke that the best time to see Florence (or any major European attraction) was 30 years ago, travelling today is so much easier than years gone by. Last night, we were able to check the train times for today’s trip to Siena from the comfort of our apartment and book and pay for the tickets in a moment using an app on our phones. But perhaps this has led to a little complacency as we arrived at Siena train station without a thought of what to do, or how to get to the historic centre. Our first mistake of the day. Now, Siena is stunningly beautiful, very much a Florence with fewer (but still plenty) of tourists. But the info, and infrastructure connecting train and bus services, was somewhat limited. We struggled to find our way into the centre (we were not the only ones, we ended up teaming with a Spanish couple who spoke no English or Italian – I was pleased to get a chance to practice my Spanish on Italian soil) and then, when we wanted to return by bus to the train station it was again not straight forward. The lesson for the day – do your research, its not hard, but can save a lot of angst (and wasted time.)
But that is not the end of the tale.
We had always planned to then catch the train from Siena to Poggibonsi, before getting the bus to San Gimignano, then getting the bus back to Poggibonsi and the train “home” to Florence. Having (eventually) found our way back to Siena station, the trip to Poggibonsi was quick, cheap and uneventful. We got off the train, and headed to the front of the station to find the bus stop (having learnt from my error in the morning, I took some time on the train to confirm the location of the bus stop). However, finding the bus stop, it became apparent that the next bus to San Gimignano was not for about three hours. At the bus stop, we found two fellow travellers also waiting for a bus, and also arriving at the same conclusion that it would be pointless to wait.
We agreed to share a taxi into San Gimignano, I found some numbers, made some calls, and Stefano, our taxi driver, would be with us in 30 minutes. Whilst we waited, we chatted. One of our fellow travellers was from Amsterdam, the other, Haron, from Kurdistan (although they were friends, and travelling together.) We chatted about ourselves, our travels and our homes. I quizzed Haron a little about Kurdistan, of where he was rightly proud, and then explained that many years ago I had been in the RAF and part of a multi-national force based at Incirlik airbase, Turkey, enforcing a no-fly zone over Northern Iraq to protect the Kurds who were being persecuted by Saddam Hussein and his regime (this would be in the early 1990s). Haron became a little emotional, and told me how his father had been a freedom fighter for the Kurds and had told him off the help that the no-fly zone had provided, and that he (Haron) now lived in an autonomous and safe very region of Kurdistan in nothern Iraq. I was a very small cog in a big machine, and I’m not really sure I did very much, but it is gratifying to know that, over 30 years on, what we did did make a difference, and it was genuinely heart-warming to meet someone who we may have helped.
And that chance encounter would not have happened if our plans hadn’t gone awry. Planning is good, but flexibility – especially when travelling – is better, and travelling so much more enriching when you abandon the script, meet new people, and go with the flow.
We bumped into Haron and his travelling companion on the bus back to Poggibonsi, and again on the train back to Florence. They are both accomplished artists and listening to Haron talk about some of the works he had seen in Florence was inspiring and energising – the other three of us were all “of an age” and from northern Europe – it is very easy to become blase about what we see: “oh, look, another church, another renaissance painting”, but Haron’s enthusiasm re-lit a spark in all of of us.
Yes, Siena, and Gimingano and the Tuscan countryside are all beautiful, but the most beautiful thing for me today was meeting a son of Kurdistan, a far away people I was sent to protect what seems a life time ago.
