UNLUCKY LUCCA

Lucca, a picturesque little town about 20 km from here was to have been my destination today. However, it was ordained for me not to reach it. At the station I duly purchased a ticket from a machine, completely oblivious to what was happening. On the platform everything seemed as normal when the train flashed up on the information monitor, but all was not well. Thinking a gentleman of my age was an Italian I asked him in the most simple English I could muster about the imminence of the train. He answered me in equally basic English. I thought nothing of it until his wife came, speaking to him with a noticeably Northern English accent. Funny, I thought, especially when he began speaking to her in the same natural English. It seems we both thought each other was Italian. It was only then that I discovered there was a train strike on which was effecting a lot of trains. The Lucca train then disappeared from the monitor and my hopes of a day out of Pisa dashed and a wasted 3 Euro into the bargain. Money back? That's another story.

The train wasn't going anywhere today so I headed back to the hostel to regroup. A new arrival in my room is an American guy from New York who found himself in much the same situation of broken dreams. We decided to team up and head out of town for the day, to a place called Tirrenia. Its not a long bus trip, and took us out to a beach resort. The sun very pleasant and an incredibly stiff refreshing wind coming in from the sea. The kite surfers were in action and Fred, New Yorker, introduced me to the delights of Amaro Montenegro, a delicious orange aperitif which went down very well, along with the coffee on a terrace overlooking the exceedingly choppy sea. Have already got a bus ticket to Florence where I am going tomorrow. D