Barga is a one of the many medieval villages in the Appennines about an hour by bus from Lucca. When we went there yesterday the drive up the valley to the town was exquisite. The road follows the river valley and goes through numerous small towns – each with a church, a shop or two and an African guy trying to sell umbrellas to any tourist who stops. Barga itself, when we finally got there, was clouded in mist, stunningly beautiful, – and essentially closed.
Historically it was more closely aligned with the Lombards than with the Tuscans. As is the way in this part of the world, the town still celebrates the time they beat Lucca in a 12th century punch-up – or at least kept Lucca out of their town until the Florentines threatened to intervene. (That means they’ve had that same party now about 1,000 times!) Mind you, they also have a day to celebrate the time they joined with the Lucchese to keep out the Florentines. Sadly they were unable to keep out the more recent invaders – the Poms.
This part of Italy has quite a large UK expat community, but one that is now reeling with the uncertainty of Brexit. It could mean that all those who moved here from England and Scotland to take advantage of the cheap housing, mild climate, and ready availability of African umbrella salesmen, could suddenly become holidaymakers rather than residents and who are therefore unable to stay in their own house, (sometimes only house) for more than four months in any calendar year. No doubt this will have a flow-on effect on the English, Irish and Scottish themed pubs that also dot these valleys.
Upon our return to Lucca we had the best meal of the trip so far – not at an Irish pub but rather a Sicillian restaurant just round the corner. Every dish was first class; pork with artichokes, octopus with an unpronouncable sauce, even the simple green salad that accompanied the meal – followed by traditional Sicillian desserts . It was fitting way to farewell Nat who was with us for Christmas and is now staying with friends in London.
There is still so much to see in this beautiful part of the world. We havn’t yet seen the coast and there are a number of small hillside villages each with their own market day. Tomorrow however, we are going back to Florence, and that Remington, is almost always a good idea.
Enjoy the photos!
Farley et al.
The Very Excellent Adventures of the Cunnington-Smythes 
I am so enjoying your travels ❤️ I feel like I’m there with you guys. Enjoying foreign countries without leaving the comfort of my own home
This is for all Farley’s followers who stretch across the planet from Croatia to Crow’s Nest.
It has indeed been my fortune to travel at last with the Cunnington-Smythes and I would just like to fill in a few gaps and silences that have appeared in Farley’s reports, though definitely not in his photographs.
Firstly, the silences: none of the two million dogs we’ve seen on buses and trains, in cafes, restaurants, shop windows and bicycle baskets, under arms and overcoats, all very well socialised along with their owners, has been given a bark let alone a voice. Admittedly, Farley loves the critters but he has silenced them because he believes that a dog is a dog. I guess that is fair enough. However, having mentioned English ex-pats, there was an English mother and daughter combo whose views on being in the beautiful town of Barga could have been saught. After all, they were sitting next to us in a cosy, rustic cafe; so close that we could hear their conversation as we slurped a truly wonderful vegetable soup. Maybe Farley was deterred after the mother castigated the daughter with, “… don’t call me mummy!” More likely, as a dog lover, Farley was completely turned off by the daughter cuddling her cat as she, too, slurped the soup.
Now for some of the gaps: Omitted were the mandarins, that Farley loves so much he eats four at a time; the pickled herring we ate in Barga that Farley has been searching for ever since; the gelateria that are a constant source of attraction; the wonder of the vegetables especially small cabbages and artichokes; the ubiquitous lure of coffee and a pastry; and the joy of just looking at the array of meats, cheeses and condiments in delicatessans.
Of course, my dear friend, Farley, can’t cover everything in his reflections, and I have set out to expand your experience of our time here in Lucca just a little bit. I will let him fill you in on our day in Florence but if he omits the crowds, the selfies, the packed train, the Uffizi queue and the fact that our local water fountain doesn’t get carbonated water like the one near the train station then you will be hearing from me.
Well done, Farley!
Farquhar