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My feet are mangled. Mangled I tell you. This morning I wrote a piece using it as a metaphor, but it was stupendously self indulgent, beyond the works of Led Zeppelin and well into the calibre of Bob Dylan. I shall spare you all, but mangled feet.

I am truly back in the land of church bells. Lucca has been pleasant, rewarding us for having a longer than strictly necessary period here by revealing it charms after a couple of days. Initially it was less than I had hoped for; its walls seeming a paler version of Assisi and its interior a paler version of Padova, including a paler orto bitanico, but while it has has no new architectural elements (except a tower with trees on the roof), the culture is what has made the experience. This is partially due to my grasp of the language being broader than I had expected, with a larger than anticipated vocabulary being at my ready disposal. It is also partially due to the city having a genuinely impressive golden son: Giacomo Antonio Domenico Michele Secondo Maria Puccini, who penned Madame Butterfly and many others. There is currently a fine exhibition on his life and links to Lucca that Matt and I attended. The Tuscan food has also been exceptional (the olives especially have been sublimely balanced), and I anticipate more fine dining in Florence in the coming days.

This is a story whose details are best told in pictures, so I direct you to the gallery.

Comments

(Anonymous)
Aug. 30th, 2008 12:41 pm (UTC)
Hee! I'd forgotten about that one.

Jodie

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