The Fox and the Turtle

The sunshine was a surpise today, so Nick took us into Barga to enjoy the nice weather. The village is a series of steep inclines, lopsided cobble stone streets, and narrow passagways that are categorized as alleys back home but served as both a sidewalk and a road. No really, sometimes cars came through and you would squeeze up against a wall for them to pass. Don't let it deter you though. Barga is a delightfully old world with friendly faces and a Ciao! to greet you at every stop.

Plenty of people were in town for the inaguration (of whom we never quite figured out), but we headed off to a little gallery tucked into a shop off the street. There were dozens of portraits lining the wall, four or five to an artist, and Nick told us they were all amateurs living in Barga. The gallery had drawn a small crowd and we were happy to peruse the paintings while they chatted around us. The refreshment table had the most delicious assortment of sweets and I had the best lemon cake I think I've ever tasted. For context though, I love sweets and haven't had anything baked, chocolately or particularly sugary for about a week. Please forgive me Barga residents, because I took two pieces of that lemon cake and I don't have any regrets.

We had a funny moment on the way out, as the same woman who happily handed us plates for the refreshment table started to chat with us about the gallery. We apologetically told her we spoke English and so she asked again, "What do you like?" Zach took her to a painting of a small harbor and explained, partly in Italian, how he liked the colors and the brush strokes. She beamed, "Thats mine!" And then explained to us where it was and about the other paintings that she had in the gallery. She eventually was called away to talk to new people arriving, but we had a nice moment with her.

(The man in profile in the foreground is our host Nick!)

Nick took us to his old haunt and we had a round of beers for a change. After mastering wine, Italy seems disinterested in beer so the selection was simple. Peroni. On tap. Finished. The place was small, like most other shops and bars we went to, but was filled with lively music by the two musicians you see above (plus a talented mandolin player). They played a range of songs, but were there to jam, not for anything serious. Nick recalled a time when dozens of musicans would come or an opera singer would pop in to give a lively chorus. The bar was decidedly more tame today, though it was noon on a Sunday.

It was a beautiful day for sitting outside, sipping beers, and nice conversation. For a small village, there's quite a lot to see and always interesting people to talk to here. Zach and I are planning our own jaunt into town this week, so we'll see what mischief we can get into!

Missing you all,

H W Z

Coffee and Mountains

8:45 AM

Wine and Chips

11:32 AM

It's been raining every day here in Barga at our first host stay, so here's a sorry in advance that this post is going to be light on the pictures.

We arrived here on Friday and are staying with our host Nick for the next two weeks. The little village of Barga is nestled in the mountains and Nick's house is just a bit further up from town. The views, when sunny, are spectaular but when rain starts out comes the fog and you can almost forget the mountains are there. So we've been enjoying our time inside by the fire and taking little exploration trips around the beautiful property inbetween drizzles. Nick keeps apologising for the rain, but we're enjoying the clean air and the fresh foresty scent it sweeps through the trees. Since his property is on a mountain, his green space is on a series of levels, not one flat patch of grass. It makes for an interesting backyard, and we're quite enjoying the time we've already had to spruce it up.

On Saturday, Nick took us on an expedition (errands in his words) to the supermarket a few towns away. It seemed to be similar to Walmart, though only in size and options, not because the people there are charicatures. Of course everything was in Italian, so we had fun guessing what things actually were and enjoying the nonsensical packaging, like baby food featuring a baby in a chefs hat.

They also had two aisles of pasta for sale (not counting the refrigerated, already cooked pasta) and the same for sauces. Kiwis and lemons were extra large, the latter being half the size of our heads and conviently located next to actual lemon trees for sale. If you're not feeling citrus, they also had apple and pear saplings for the choosing.

We swept off to the next store, an adorable little bodega in Barga, to gather fresher fruits and veggies to stock the pantry. Nestled between piles of fruits were portraits of what were presumably the owners children. Not just one or two either, but a few scattered about on tables and hanging in whatever open space there were on the walls. It was absurd, but delightfully homey. Like if your grandmother opened up a veggie shop in her living room.

Coffee was next, where Zach ordered a Caffe Americano and saved us both from the jitters of the espresso the few days before. We shared a pastry and a table with our host at an enclosed garden off the side of the cafe. Somehow, no matter where we were, the fresh rain scent followed - even as we left the cafe to trek up a steep cobbled street to a wine shop.

Everything was arranged according to region and Nick picked out one from nearby Lucca. We thought the shopkeep was ducking behind the counter to grab a bag, but instead she pulled out three glasses and set them on the small table in the middle of the shop. We sat, Nick poured, and we were just as quickly met with a bowl of potato chips. Not cheese. Chips. And let me tell you, that pairing is brilliant.

Another woman joined us with a glass of champagne and Zach practiced the smallest bit of Italian trying to explain his lineage. As the German whose only additonal language was French, I had even less to add but had a great time watching them encourage Zach to speak as much Italian as he could remember. I can only hope for a similar pleasent response when I'm up to bat during our month in France.

Traveling like this is so wonderfully easy and relaxing. Being shown around by a local beats staying in hotels anyday. How would we ever have found out that they grow their lemons so enourmous or that they pair wine and chips if Nick hadn't taken us out? All this in the first two days too, who knows what else the week has in store.

More wine please,

H W Z