I am on a Summer holiday on my own for the first time in 27
years.
It’s not been the best organised event in my life.
Less than a week ago it didn’t exist at all, except that I’d
managed to organise a reasonable gap in my work diary for three weeks starting
on Saturday past. The weather at home didn’t help in the sense that for the
first time since 1978 (when we had a Labour Government, so that shows how long
ago it was) I was tempted to take my chance on a holiday in Scotland.
But I remembered that holiday with some caution. On the day
my mate George and I departed from Queen Street up the West Highland line,
there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, only for it to rain constantly for the next
two weeks; for Uig Youth Hostel to burn down while we were on route; for us to nearly get hypothermia on Raasay and for us
to be forced to listen to the 1978 World Cup Final on the radio as there were
no pubs open, or even it appeared televisions functioning, in Stornoway on a
Sunday. I’ve never had a Summer holiday in Scotland since.
So, panicked by that sudden recollection, last Wednesday, I bought a flight to Pisa.
But I still arranged nothing else. For want of company, I’d take in the sights,
I reckoned, starting with Pisa itself which, despite passing through many
times, I had never actually visited.
But by Friday night even that had not been organised and I
had concluded, at least for the moment, that I’d stay where I was and, after
all, put to the test the old adage that “you can’t beat Scotland when you get
the weather”.
Only I couldn’t get to sleep, not just because of the heat
at home. I always go to Italy in the
Summer. I had a flight arranged. Maybe I should just take a chance?
When I awoke abruptly at 5.30, my mind was made up for me.
This was a sign. The iPod and the Kindle were already fired up, T-Shirts and
the rest easily dumped into the Ryanair compatible bag and, an hour and a half
later I was entaxied to Croy on my journey to Prestwick, thanks to the wonders
of the internet arranging accommodation ahead on my phone as I went.
And by mid afternoon I was installed in a wee hotel in the
warm South. The too warm South as it quickly transpired.
There is a reason the Italians don’t hang about in their
cities in the high Summer. Pisa was baking. And, whether for that reason or
otherwise, it also left me a bit underimpressed. The Field of Miracles lives up
to its name, no doubt about that. The leaning tower would be immensely impressive
even if it wasn’t leaning. The Baptistery is astonishing and, even as something
of a connoisseur of Romanesque Cathedrals, I was nearly overwhelmed by that on
offer in Pisa. Particularly with its added attraction of the black and white
stripes.
But the rest of the town was simply too hoaching with....
tourists, I confess rather self-consciously. And seemed worryingly indifferent
to them other than as a way of making an easy buck. People talk about the big
three of Tuscany as being Florence, Pisa and Siena but, even allowing for the
Field of Miracles, I’d place Pisa a poor third. Not much, if at all, ahead of the supposed also rans such as Lucca
and Arezzo.
Anyway, it was too hot. So by last night I had decided to
head for the beaches. Which is from where I write tonight.
Till the weekend, I’ve got a wee hotel in a typical Italian
seaside resort called Tirrenia. It’s
brilliant. Well the resort is anyway. Nothing posh, it is certainly not
Viareggio, but the typical mix of lidos, beach bars and trattorias “specitalita
pesce”. There’s even a gigantic seawater acqua park which, if I was ten years
old, would probably make me think I’d died and gone to heaven. I suspect
however the “Spiaggia Siria” might be contemplating a closed season change of
name.
I had a proper
frittura for lunch. Not just prawns and squid but fat sardines and wee red
mullet all cooked together in a light batter and all so much immensely improved
for being served within sight of, and against a background smell of, the sea
itself.
After a post prandial siesta, I had my first dip in the Med,
the free beach being, as always, not entirely easy to find but worth the
effort. The water, after all, is just the same.
And that’s how I now propose to spend my time till the
weekend. Eating, reading, lying on the beach and taking in the sun. There will
be time for a bit more sightseeing in due course.
I end however with a note of mystery. That’s about the Hotel
here. I may investigate that and report further in due course.
Auguri.
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