I write this sitting in the distinctly un-glamorous departure lounge at Pisa (Galileo Galilei) Airport. The Musician has been here for a bit and I came for a girls’ weekend. I’ve been treated to great food, good views, a relaxed wander around a number of little towns, and more Italian than my little unRomantic (I can’t really speak Spanish or Portuguese or Latin either) ears could manage. I was quite pleased by how much Italian in a normal conversation I was able to follow; I really struggled with individual sentences or questions as those are more often idiomatic. Fortunately I had the recently refreshed Italian vocab of The Musician on hand.
View from the huge window in my hotel room:
Saturday morning involved a slow stroll around the coastal town of Viareggio, ostensibly in pursuit of a pen. My Italian vocab is gleaned entirely from opera libretti, so I can say “Dammi la morte!” (Kill me!), “Rinasce!” (I’m recovering!), “Che gelida manina” (What a frozen little hand – helpful both in flirting with penniless Parisian seamstresses and Scandinavian crime novels, I would imagine) and “Geloso amor fu il mio” (My love was a jealous one), but I didn’t know the word for pen, so I had to walk around town past two bookshops, five banks and countless postcard shops until I found a newsagent selling biros. The one I still have shall henceforth be the Viareggio Memorial Pen. Anyway, Viareggio was lovely – a bit down-at-heel, obviously suffering from November not being tourist season, but it had a broad sandy beach and really good seafood pasta.
Separate post on visiting the centre of Pisa to follow, because The Musician has the mandatory comedy photo of me holding up the tower on her phone, not on mine. Have a photo of a funny street name instead:
And a funny restaurant name (only in Italy, right?)
Back to the grindstone tonight; next week looks ok so I will be resuming GymPact!