So, our villa is on the wrong side of the Serchio river. It is officially in the Province of Pisa, but is actually closer to Lucca, on the other side of the river. It makes a difference. Lucchese and Pisani are sworn enemies. They have been sworn enemies since at least the Middle Ages, and you can still find recently sprayed graffiti saying ‘ Death to Pisani!’ or similar.
We have taken to cycling to the village bar for our morning coffee and cornetto. The bar in the piazza is full on Pisa, flies the flag, only sells coffee roasted in Pisa. I have an old bone shaker without brakes and GS rides my vintage Raleigh, complete with blue ribboned basket in case we get some groceries on the way back. It’s a oneway loop so we always cycle home past Reuters, the Poet Barber who jumps out to wave us down and say hello.
‘Where are you going?’ he says ‘Where do you go when you go out. in Lucca? We should all go sometime’ GS and I try, and fail, to explain the location of our top favourite restaurants then I make a faux pas.
‘We were thinking of going to Pisa?”
Reuters shudders with fear and distaste muttering darkly that Pisani cannot be trusted – even they give you a present!
There are even greetings which have filtered down through the years and across the country. It goes ‘Better a death in the house than a Pisan at the door’ to which the answer is a sinister ‘May God grant you your wish’
Lucca and Pisa are very different cities.
The motto for Lucca is Libertas. Freedom, one of the noblest abstract nouns.
The motto for Pisa is Urbis me dignum pisane noscite signum ‘Know that I am worthy of the city’ which seem to me to speak of a humility.
GS loves Lucca and we neglect Pisa, it is true. But Pisa’s strength is being the Cinderella city, overlooked and neglected. Tourists decant at the airport for their villas and farmhouses, anxious tourists tick off the tower and the Piazza dei Miracoli but almost no one goes to the city itself. So what does that leave you? An ancient historic city with an esteemed University embedded. Its maze of streets and piazzas, crumbling ruins, palazzos, gardens and museums all to be explored. And it has a river. Lucca, has water too of course, an exoskeleton, a wide sometimes flooded moat without its walls, but Pisa, Pisa has the Arno coursing through its heart charging out to sea. A sea so close that one summer a dolphin made the river home.
I love Rome. Nothing compares to Rome, Eternal City with one foot always in the heavens, Tiber, Fountains, Rome has it all.
But Pisa is Rome without the graffiti, without the imbalance of too many tourists, too many strangers, where you have to look for the real Rome. Pisa is different, an Italian city that still belongs to the Italians in a way, that Rome and Venice perhaps no longer do to the same extent. Pisa- Tuscany’s least loved city, a Cinderella beauty hiding in plain sight.
If Lucca is the ringed haughty lady, Pisa is the maligned but unbroken, mistress with dignity. Whisper it softly behind a hand, in the shadows but my guilty secret is that I rather love Pisa.
So we slid out to Pisa incognito under cloudless bright blues skies. The intention was to get to the Palazzo Blu followed by the botanical gardens as they were hosting a mushroom fair and GS is rather partial to mushrooms.
We walked along the river, me waxing lyrical about Pisa’s neglected beauty, at the reflections in the still Arno, GS feeling a bit peckish. So rather than search around for the Palazzo Blu we went to the first museum we tripped up over which was just as well as they were only open for an hour before lunch. GS prefers cuisine to culture any day of the week and an hour is about right for a museum.
Going around a museum with GS is like being on a field trip from school with the bad boy who sits at the back of the class. It’s a snigger feast.
‘This is a perfect illustration of the beauty of blood over…’ says I about to launch into a lecture about dynastic families marrying each other.
‘Why do they all look like David Cameron?’ says GS.
https://www.beniculturali.it/luogo/museo-nazionale-di-palazzo-reale
Lunch in the tiniest restaurant ever was delicious, Carbonara, a Roman castelli white for me and a 14 percent velvety red bolgeri for GS.
Off we went to the Botanical Gardens. The oldest in the world. Honestly, the funniest place you could hope to visit after a glass of wine.
‘Big Willy! Big Willy!’ said GS on sight of this somewhat gynacological specimen.
Shush!
‘BIDWILLII’ says GS, ‘that’s its’ name. What were you thinking?’
Then home via a quick food shop, for the most fragrant and fresh tangerines, and soft Persimmons, my favourite.
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4 Comments
Love this read, Aww Pisa..you’re so beautiful !😍
Thank you so much Marisa for taking the time to comment, and I agree -Pisa is just great! We are flying this afternoon and can’t wait to be back in wonderful Tuscany!
A very entertaining and witty read.
Keeeeep writing!…. Da da da da da da da , da da da da da!! 🎶
Thank you so much! Xxx