Farewell to the Farm

July 19: Our last day in Pistoia. We'd had our big fling in Pisa, we'd relaxed at the farm, and it was time to prepare for departure. It had been lovely to rest up that week--and it was a good thing we did, because we were about to immerse ourselves in Firenze for three glorious days.

We had made arrangements with our favorite taxi driver to pick us up the next morning at a certain time so we could catch a certain train to Florence. As much as we didn't want to leave, we did want to be sure that we would have a smooth departure with no extra delays at the train station.

So we packed after another beautiful morning on the west patio. We tried to use up as much food as possible for lunch. We napped.

And then we headed out for one last night on the town. I had an extra objective that evening: I had broken a wine glass two nights before (no, I was not inebriated; in fact I had just poured the wine), and I wanted to replace it. We had tried the day before when we were at Panorama, but the store that had everything did not have any wineglasses despite at least three different employees telling us that they did. So I thought maybe, just maybe this little secondhand store we had passed a couple of times in town might have something that would match what I'd broken.

We found that store, and it did in fact have two wineglasses that were a close enough match, and they were dirt cheap. What a fabulous find!

We walked on toward the Piazza del Duomo. Terrie was still looking for gifts for her granddaughters, and we stopped in at a little shop where there was interesting handmade jewelry--very delicate and simple, appropriate, somehow, for the girls. So that was another objective met.

We came to one of the churches that had caught our eye the other day. The sunlight was fully upon it so that it glowed. One last picture of the San Giovanni Fuoricivitas Church:

It was still too early for dinner, so we stopped at a cafe named Vecchia Praga--where they had a full menu of Bavarian beers, among other libations. We sat and watched a couple of kids amusing themselves while their adults talked over their drinks.

Finally, we headed for dinner at Voronoi, the place where Cindy and I had lunched our first full day in Pistoia. Surprisingly, the young woman who had served us that day (so long ago, or so it felt) remembered us--made us feel very special.

A couple of wall decorations from that little piazza:

Dinner was delicious, leisurely, and the temperature was relatively comfortable. A perfect evening. We had to get a picture of Lucretia (who wouldn't want to preserve that beautiful smile for our memory book?):

And the really striking graphics of the folder that held the check when it came:

This restaurant was one of only two (that I can recall) in our entire epic tour that we went to twice. It deserved our repeat attention.

After dinner, we walked to the Gelateria Brivido for ice cream and some people watching. A large group of students in uniforms came by; that was about as exciting as it got.

We walked back toward the main commercial area, and called our taxi driver to see if he could pick us up.

As we waited, Cindy wanted to give me the bag with the wineglasses --and somehow that bag slipped through both our fingers and crashed on the street. So much for that triumph of finding replacement wineglasses...ah well...

Back at the house, it was another early bedtime. The view from the bedroom window sparkled in the late dusk:

And so our time in Pistoia came to a close. It had been just what we needed, a respite from the mad pace Cindy and I had maintained for seven weeks prior to landing at the farmhouse.

We were now ready to tackle Firenze.