Woke up on Friday morning on Italy. On the Ligorna (sp?) Coast. Comcerns about the earthquake in Rome didn't reach this far, though flags were at half mast. I headed to Pavia to meet old friend, Elizabetta.
Who took me out, drinking and carousing, for the night.
Actually, I lie. They barely drink and they don't carouse...well, not above their loud shouty-talk, to which they are most partial. So we drank a bit of spumante and they graciously almost all (who could) spoke English and it was fun.
We went back to hers and slept. Elizabetta had planned a secret surprise for the next day. Well, sort of a secret...the words 'spa' and 'massage' are the same in many languages, it seems and I overheard her telling someone the plan for the next day.
And it was FABULOUS!! A SORT of country club where they allow dogs! (On a lead) and they have sunbeds in the sun (and shade) and two pools and a cheap bar and nice ladies who do treatments. Oh it was bliss!!
B enjoyed it too...
That evening we wandered home suitably relaxed and chilled out.
The next day was the walking tour of Pavia.
A local church, prepped for wedding.
Statue of Garibaldi.
The joyous lady below him is Italy. She is open armed as Garibaldi has united her (top half with bottom half) and she has decided to pretend to forget Garib's double crossing acts of rape and murder across the country. Hoorah!!
This bit was interesting to me.
Apparently Chaucer came to Pavia quite a few hundred years ago and stayed here. He was tasked with setting King Richard up for marriage with some local beauty. Whilst here he read some book which inspired him to write The Canterbury Tales.
So they say.
The town is old and pretty and pretty quiet.
A local church.
And a monument to the women of the south bank, who earnt their living washing clothes.
The old bridge. At sunset.
Elizabetta bought a mop.
What a beautiful weekend.
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