Cabbies are usually a good choice to ask, too; except, apparently in San Francisco. We were there trying to find our way around on the motorcycle. We asked several people directions, and every single one of them began, “Walk to the end of the block, and catch the #N bus…” They included a gas station attendant and a cabbie. When pointed out that we weren’t pedestrians (as we stood there carrying motorcycle helmets) none of them had a clue, anymore.

The Irony is, we were trying to find the Greyhound station.

Your desire is very interesting. .. to see Italy as it was in the past, the once was.(Era comes from that, did you know that? In Italian ‘era’ means he, she, or it, was.)

We go every summer, sometimes twice if we can. We are about 45 minutes from Florence, about the same from Pisa, and about fifteen minutes from Lucca. We have not been to Florence in years now-don’t go in the summer you won’t even find a place to sit, not even in the churches-once went to Pisa-years ago, and we have not been in Lucca for two years now.

The real Italy is not in those places, wonderful as they may be with their art and architectural treasures. It’s the small towns (read ‘Italy, The Places Between’ Ruth Simon.) that are, for my wife and I, the real Italy. It is impossible to walk by another person without the two of you greeting each other, strangers though you may be.

In the larger centers everything is geared towards tourism-their number one industry,naturally-and the picture you will get is, like most Italian surfaces, superficial, one atom thick, something pretending to be something that it is not (The Italians invented guilding and, it is said by Luigi Barzini ‘in The Italians’, that they made the most beautiful armor suits ever-Beautiful artwork and engraving-and the most useless against arrow s or other weapons.

In the smaller towns the superficiality is limited social engagements, be it with the farmer next door, or the waiter at a restaurant. Italians believe that ‘in the world’ they must put on their best front, play their ‘part’ expertly,that all is drama.

If you are lucky enough to ever be invited into an Italian home (rare and a compliment when it happens) you may get a glimpse of what Italians are really like. The home is the place where they are allowed to be, in fact must be, who they, at heart, really are. Naturally, if you are a guest, the performance may continue.)

my best to you,

pepe

And I certainly don’t begrudge anyone else who enjoys touristing! (Goodness knows tourism drives a good chunk of the local economy in my home town.) It just isn’t so much my own cup of tea.