For boys of my generation, when you say Micaleangello, Leonardo, Raphael and Donatello, you think of pizza-eating mutant turtles, not Renaissance artists. It is still possible that I will carry on thinking that after visiting the city, that allowed them to flourish.
Raised on a diet of broken biscuits
Saturday 26 October 2024
Not a turtle in sight!
For boys of my generation, when you say Micaleangello, Leonardo, Raphael and Donatello, you think of pizza-eating mutant turtles, not Renaissance artists. It is still possible that I will carry on thinking that after visiting the city, that allowed them to flourish.
Friday 25 October 2024
A little slice of Scotland and a tree topped tower
There is a long line of evidence that Scottish and Italian is a good mix. There is the cross-over, of course, in my family tree. Still, when you add into the mix Armando Iannucci, Capaldis Peter and Lewis, Tom Conti, Sharleen Spitari, Ronni Ancona and last but not least, Paolo Nutini, a singer-songwriter who has matured into one of the finest songwriters of his generation it is no wonder that I found myself drawn to Barga where Paolo's family emigrated from.
Nestled in the Tuscan mountains and hills. Barga is just another tiny but stunning settlement that carries on regardless of the world's worries far away. There was a rumour that Irn Bru might be available, and there probably is if you don't go during the middle of the day when things shut down or appear empty.
There is little wonder why it is called the most Scottish town in Italy. There is a red telephone box, and the windows of several houses are filled with Scottish saltires. It is said that 40% of the town's residents have a Scottish relative.
Like Tempagnano yesterday, the administrative centre for Barga is Borgo a Mozzano, situated on the Serchio River. It is famous for its Medieval bridge, Ponte della Maddalena or del Diavolo, the Devil's Bridge and was commissioned some tie during the end of the 11th century. Its odd design sees it raised in the middle, presumably to let boats sail under.
The famous story of how it got its name, the Devil's Bridge, is that the townspeople made a pack with the devil to ensure the bridge was completed.
I didn't think I would get to see it as there was so much else to do. Luckily the train passes by it on the way to Barga and you get to see it in all it's glory.
Back in Lucca, I was intrigued by the tower with trees growing out of the top in the middle of the walled city. Better known as the Guinigi Tower, built in the 14th century, it is 148 feet high and has 233 steps to the top, overlooking Lucca and the surrounding area.
If you read about my trip the previous day, you will know I'm not great with heights, but I knew it would be a shame to miss out on the views, so I made a promise to myself to go as far up as comfortable, and then I could always come back down. I made it a good way up and called it a day. The views I did get were stunning, but I would have loved to have said hello to the oak trees at the top.
After a busy day like that, food was called for, and I chose the local dish of Tordelli Lucchesi, large stuffed pasta filled with meat, pine nuts, spices and cheese covered in a meaty ragu-style sauce, and it was honestly one of the best things I have eaten. Every bite was packed with flavour.
My time in this part of Italy ends on Saturday with a Parkrun, my hundredth before I move on to Verona and then start the journey home. Today, a trip on the road to Florence awaits.
Thursday 24 October 2024
The Englishman who went up a hill
It can only be once you have achieved something that you see how far you have come. That is usually metaphorical, but today, I put it into practice. Anyone who has seen me navigate my way around the away end at Newcastle's St James' Park will know that I am not very good with heights, so when I was winding my way through the narrow country lanes, I worried that someone in a little Fiat 500 was going to fly around the tight bends and send me into orbit before coming down with a thud, I wasn't paying attention to how fast I was going or how high I was going. Only with the church in sight I finally realised my mistake and started crawling towards the end.
Luckily, no one was around to see the stupido Inglese make a big deal out of it. I'd reached my destination, where my great-great grandad was from. It has been challenging to find much about that's what a family fallout and moving halfway across a continent does. Of the two Pieretti gravestones, the consensus is that one is of one of my great-great grandad's sister and his brother, who died one Christmas at just five years old. The pieces are slowly falling into place, but more detective work is needed.
I sat on the steps leading up to the church contemplating my next move, my nerve for the journey back had gone, and I even tried to book a taxi which didn't turn up and five hours later I received an e-mail to confirm it wasn't happening.
By then, I realised I would need to head back, as I didn't want to walk around in the dark without knowing what I was doing. I walked down to where I should have left the bus earlier, but I found no buses back to Lucca. I would have to walk another 25 minutes to find the nearest service, which turned out to be on the edge of a bustling road with vehicles travelling at 70 km/h.
Finally, I made the move. I had worked myself up to think that the way down would be trickier than the way up approaching one sharp bend in the road. I feared a steep descent down one section of the road only to turn the corner and realise it was nowhere near as scary as I had imagined. it emboldened me, and I started to make good progress amongst the olive trees and the greenness of a landscape trying to hold off autumn for as long as possible.
I returned to Luuca to be met with a torrent of rain as soon as I disembarked from the bus. I returned to the accommodation, dried off and charged the batteries a little before heading off for my first experience of proper Italian pizza.
Tuesday 22 October 2024
Leaning into things
There was a moment when I was walking back from Lucca Railway Station when it finally hit me how extraordinary the trip I was undertaking really was. Bouncing up and down the UK by train and bus is one thing, but travelling across Europe alone is another task altogether. There are times when I doubt myself. Imposter syndrome, for wont of a better phrase, definitely applies.
There are days when it feels the cricket writing is far from the standard needed, and I will be asked to leave the press area. Although I nearly brought my ECB accreditation with me, it is that much a part of my travelling plans, so it can't be going too bad.
Sometimes, when you have done something way out of your comfort zone, it takes a while for the emotions to reset themselves and return to the safety of Lucca's renaissance city walls, I couldn't stop the tears from falling.
This morning, I settled into my new surroundings, walking around the abovementioned walls and then just wandering around after being happy to get lost and find my way again. After a few days of sitting on trains and coaches, it was good to stretch the legs.
Lucca is a well-lived old place. The narrow streets somehow accommodate pedestrians, cars and bicycles and while it takes a while to get used to traffic appearing from all angles, you get used to it quickly.
The decision to go to Pisa was a last minute one knowing it was only the tower I wanted to visit and with limited time to visit the other places it felt like the right time. The leaning tower is one of those curious things but arent the only towers that lean as the towers in Bolongia reminded the world earlier this year when there was fears that they could topple.
These days the reason it seems people visit Pisa is for the photo opportunity that it offers and which James Acaster humoursly mocks in his Netflix special. I took my snaps and made my leave. It did feel good to be in a place that while famous many people will never get the opportunity.
It might have been for that reason that I couldn't stop sobbing. It defiantly wasn't tears of sadness even though I was thinking of friends. It was definitely unexpected and I'm still a loss as to why it happened.
Everyting in Italy seems so big, the building tower over you and you feel so small. That may be part of the reason behind the churches which seem more imposing than their English counterparts.
While that is the case this is the right trip at the right time and there is still so much to look forward to. Tomorrows job is to find out how to catch a bus and not get lost in the hills around Lucca as I venture in search of Irn Bru and ansestors.
Monday 21 October 2024
Lucca where I am
There was a moment of realisation when I sat down on the edge of the Pizza San Michele with the ornate facade of the Chiesa di San Michele in Foro at my back; I realised that I had made it! From as early as I could remember, my dad talked about his great-grandad from Italy. It made my dad as happy as I remember, and the regular cooking of spaghetti in a big pan; we were definitely not a "spag bol" family.
Sunday 20 October 2024
A train with a view
I have taken the long way around certain aspects of my life. It took me far longer than most who attempted to graduate from university. It took me in directions that, although it felt like a disappointment at the time, led to some of the most lasting and meaningful friendships I could have ever wished for.
It is the same with my travelling aspirations. I have travelled to the UK many times, mainly watching cricket or exploring other interests, but the chance to visit Europe has just arisen. That is partly due to being stupid with money and busy with different aspects of life.
So, when the opportunity arose, I finally decided to take it. A year of semi-planning and saving, and now I’m away. I could have easily gotten to Italy, my chosen destination, and a flight to Florence or Piza. I would be ready to explore the region that my great-great-grandad was from before he emigrated to England.
It’s not that I am averse to flying; that is how I travelled to Belfast as a child with my mum and sister. It is just the long way round, which feels the most apt way. It has helped that shows like Race Across The World have shown what is possible and have come up with some trips to access parts of the professional cricket circuit that have had others questioning my sanity. A slow trip down through France and Switzerland became the obvious choice.
This would feel like a luxury once you take a six-hour coach trip to Edinburgh, where you have no legroom and nearly fall off the coach because you have no feeling in the lower extremities.
The lure of interrailing across stunning countryside would always do it for me. The South Downs may be a special place, but imagine watching the Alps glide into view, and it is enough to make the Long Man of Wilmington want to weep.
It didn’t disappoint. After crossing the channel in the early hours, with the lights of Dover and Calis twinkling at each other, the coach journey into the grotty Bercy station was plain sailing. The bus station wasn’t the kind of place you want to be in the middle of the day, let alone before sunrise on a Sunday morning.
Paris was a means to getting to the good stuff, and it is the type of place to visit with company rather than alone. So we will meet again.
I did take the opportunity to visit a cheese shop, albeit closed at the time, for a photo opportunity with ‘Fromage et ramage’ in the background.
Gare de Lyon is a large station, and while I have visited many in the UK, it took a while to figure out where the trains went.
Two euros later, to visit the toilet, one euro for my bag and another for me, and we were ready to watch the rolling hills of France wizz by at speeds of nearly 180 miles an hour.
Once the Swiss border came into view, things got interesting. Something is fascinating about mountains—not enough to climb to their top, but how they have marked the landscape and continue to look out over the people who live in their shadows, affecting their daily lives.
Changing trains in Basel and Zurichhase made me curious about a country I don’t think I have thought about much. Travel does broaden the horizons.
Bellinzona was chosen more by luck than design, as Lucca, the proper destination, felt too far away to finish the job in one sitting. A UNESCO World Heritage Site is worth a visit of its own. A town in the Italian-speaking part of Switzerland, it offers a clean and tidy vibe that if I wasn’t so tired and in need of sleep, I would have explored more.
Once I knew I would visit Italy, switching it up on Duolingo and learning some Italian would be great. So far, nothing has come out every time I have reached for the right thing to say. Even though I know the right thing to say in a couple of interactions, I have been able to make a sound. I hope it changes in the coming days, or it could get awkward.
We shall see. Tomorrow, I will finally arrive in the region of my ancestors and have the time to find out more about them and, just as importantly, myself.
Tuesday 6 April 2021
Day 96: Welcome back Sarah Taylor
There is not much surprises me about Sarah Taylor, the former England Wicketkeeper and World Cup winner who has achieved everything in the game. When you consider the issues she has had with anxiety, then it is all the more remarkable.
When she was announced as Sussex wicketkeeper coach, it was
the next logical step. She is world-class in her field, and for some of her
knowledge and skills to be shared made sense. It has also seen a pattern of
Sussex inviting former players with a passion for the county to fill the coaching
spots.
There was always the prospect that Taylor may play again as
she was only officially retired from international cricket a few appearances
for Sussex may have been on the cards.
To see Taylor named in the Welsh Fire squad for the Hundred
is pleasing. With Matthew Mott captaining and the likes of Meg Lanning and Beth
Mooney, on the same side, will be exciting for the team that will be playing their
home games at Sophia Gardens this year.
Days until the start of a new season
There is a buzz around for the start of the County
Championship; on Thursday, 18 teams have a chance of winning the top prize in
county cricket.
By the end of that first day, we will start to form a
picture of who will stand up and be counted. It will be early days; there will
be groups of fans from one or two county seasons that will lower expectations.
I’m hoping for a few surprise packages this season. With the
two-division format rested until at least next year, a few of the less fancied
counties could prove a point or two. I would, of course, like to see Sussex
play well. I don’t think they have a chance of winning the whole thing, but I
like how the club is being run on the field and would love to see that
represented in results.