Pilgrims progress, with any luck

How could I have returned to Australia without seeing Lucca, about 200kms to the north-west of Anghiari? There is just no way. Not after my friend Clayton had told me I should see it – how many times? So many times…

And he was right. It is absolutely knockout gorgeous amazing.

To get to Lucca, which is still in Tuscany, I caught a bus to Arezzo, then a train to Firenze and another to Lucca. Enjoyable journeys with a newspaper (yes, I still like actual newsprint) and a book.

All travel is a pilgrimage, they say, mostly to find one’s self. Six weeks into my journey, I found parts of myself that are uncomfortable, not good, so I decided to change the scene.

It was on the cards that travelling on my own would be lonely at times, of course, and lately Anghiari has been pretty quiet. Tumbleweeds-in-the-piazza quiet.

Four years ago, I welcomed a total of six visitors from Australia and three from the US while I was staying in Anghiari, and I was feeling their absence keenly (you know who you are – I miss you!). It was a different season, of course – April, May, June – and my late Anghiari neighbour Giorgio had become my friend then too. But that was then. Now I've had to put on my big-girl pants and contend with being more alone.

Lucca, on the other hand, is thrilling, even overwhelming at first. A bit wow, with a maze of tiny alleyways to defy Google Maps' ability to find your accommodation, and access only through tunnels in the wall surrounding the old town. Not as big and bustling as Florence, but a lot bigger than Anghiari, and it seems even more ancient.

It's grand. And chic! Shop window displays and people in the streets have that turned-up-collar, not-even-trying cool that Italians can have. The fabrics, the colours, the style…

The design of the town itself is very attractive, the ancient part embraced, like the precious gem that it is, by a high mound of a wall built in the 16thC for defence. A road running along the top of the wall is wide enough for cars but mostly free of them; people use it for walking, jogging and cycling.

The best 5 euros I have spent was on hiring a bike (that's it) to ride around this 4.2km wall yesterday. It took about 40 minutes and cheered me up no end. Thankfully, while the weather has been a bit grey and drizzly, the rain held off for my ride.

Like Adelaide in Australia, Lucca is called the "city of churches". It has many, including San Michele in Foro with its stunning facade, above right, some dating back to the 8th Century. The main cathedral, St Martin’s, takes my breath away, its dimensions inspiring awe, as I imagine the designers intended.

After entering, I have to sit down immediately to take it in. I'm not religious but I am moved.

The silence is soon broken by the echo of heels click-clacking on the stone floor, the owner a woman who is obviously at home here and feels no need to walk quietly. I watch. She pauses to cross herself then sits heavily on a side pew. Her head bobs gently while she says some quiet words. After a few minutes she walks to the font, touches it, then leaves, wiping a tear from her eyes.

Later, a workman repeats a similar process, minus the tears. The cathedral serves its purpose.

Art on the wall covers the life of Christ – huge pieces depicting all the stories from his birth, the Magi turning up, the very public (as it’s portrayed) circumcision, to the last supper (Judas holding onto his bag of gold), the crucifixion, the rising from the dead and the ascension. It is quite a rich story, isn’t it? Apart from anything else, it obviously provided an income for many painters and sculptors, ceramicists, silver workers, masons and goldsmiths over the centuries, given the mind-blowing wealth of the church.

"Help! I'm locked in the Botanic Gardens!"

Sometimes being an innocent traveller pays off, such as when I tested the gate to Lucca's Orto Botanica and it opened. I had no idea that the gardens were closed until the end of November but I was surprised and, I have to say, a bit judgmental about no one else having thought to visit this beautiful place except me. I love a botanic garden in any part of the world, but when I tried to leave after admiring its beauty, I found the gate was locked and I had no way to get out. Luckily I found help or I might still be there.

(Pictured on the right here is a sculpture in the gardens of Russian-American dancer-choreographer Mikhail Baryshnikov by Greg Wyatt.)

The Orto Botanica di Lucca is not quite as old as Sydney's, having been established four years later in 1820, but it does have 'the legend of Lucida Mansi'. A vain girl from a wealthy family (so vain she was said to have a mirror concealed in her prayer book), at the first sign of a wrinkle she made a pact with the devil to retain her youthful good looks for another 30 years. Then her soul would be his. He did come for it, but not before dragging her onto his chariot, driving around the city walls so the citizenry could hear her screams, then sinking the burning chariot into this pond. The legend says that if you dive in you will see Lucida's face sleeping in its depths. But don't. The real Lucida died of the plague in 1649. Still, it does make one think our own Botanic Gardens could do with a legend of its own.

“You’re so brave travelling on your own!”

So many women said this to me before I left for my three-month Italian adventure, I had to wonder if there was something I should fear. It hadn’t occurred to me.

No, what I really fear is yet another meal on my own. I don’t usually mind eating in restaurants alone, but this is getting ridiculous. If no one else is there to taste the depth of flavour of the seafood soup (I enjoyed last night) or the fusilli with pumpkin and walnut crumble (for lunch), did it really happen?

It’s almost enough to make me stop eating, and you know how much I love Italian food.

By the way, Alessandro Borghese is in town! I know because on the last two nights here I have seen small crowds of people, mostly women, standing outside restaurants waiting to snatch an autograph if he comes out. (I didn't know who he was, but my research tells me he is a television chef and restaurateur, one of the most famous in Italy. And quite good looking too.)

I took a day trip out of Lucca today to Pisa, which also lifted my spirits (I won't go on about the even more impressive cathedral there). I have a feeling things are only going to get better when I return to Anghiari tomorrow. I'm anticipating a few social events, including some dinners not on my own, and a film with English subtitles. But more about that anon.

Galleria di Cani

Meanwhile, I’ve been taking a lot of pics of dogs with their people.

Of course, plenty of people in Australia love their dogs too, but here the rules are different. Dogs go into shops, onto trains and buses and ferries and even onto aeroplanes.

I am sorry I don’t have a photo of 4kg Sawyer who travels with his little head poking out of a shoulder bag slung over his owner’s shoulder. I met them both as we were getting onto a ferry to leave Sicily. They travelled to Italy from the United States, Sawyer quiet as a mouse under the seat in front of his owner (whose name I didn't catch) on the plane. •