Lucca

If there's one word for Lucca, it would be stylish!. Well dressed citizens occupy restaurant tables eating Tortelli Lucchesi al Ragu Di Chianina, and waving to their passing compadres. Via Fillungo, lined with smart boutiques, is making a brave attempt to introduce this year's Autumn fashions despite temperatures that remain in the high thirties. Mohair against skin? Unthinkable!

We are ensconced in San Luca Palace Hotel, a four star establishment with Byzantine drapes, whisper quiet air conditioning and windows that shut out all but the loudest bicycle bells. Passing cars are limited, allowing Luccans to peddle along balancing babies in baskets while conversing loudly on mobiles. I'm sure some old residents don't require phones as unassisted they can readily be heard in the next piazza. The atmosphere is a pleasant blend of cigars, coffee, garlic and leather. We have booked into the Palace for two nights, but five would have been optimum. Despite lengthy and careful planning, future Italian itineraries will include longer city sojourns.

The European Summer is a great time to escape Canberra's wintry blast, but be warned, travelling by TrenItalia will find you dragging heavy luggage up stairs and onto rail carriages in heatwave conditions. Your Eurail pass may state 1st class, but many trips will be undertaken in regional trains where air conditioning is a myth and blasts of hot wind enter through open windows. Our fortnight long holiday in Cortona ended inauspiciously with the overnight theft of our hire car resulting in we few, we happy band of six catching the 9.21 regional service from Terontola to Firenze. A 35 minute delay had us arriving just as the day's maximum was upgraded to 40+! See you outside the Duomo at 12.15! Long lines at the Uffizi and continued sales throughout Florence put paid to that plan. Kim and I texted Chris wishing them all the best for their trip home, however a misread departure board at S. Maria Novella gave us ample time for a fond farewell. See you in Australie!

We ate dinner in Lucca's Piazza del Palazzo Dipinto under the watchful gaze of a lifesize Giacomo Puccini before returning home to catch some tele. Whoops! Mr Bunga Bunga himself, Silvio Berlusconi, is responsible for some of the worst television ever broadcast ~ Saturday Night Live Italian Style. He should be locked up forever for what he foisted on us: elevator shoe enhanced Italian hosts trading machine-gun repartee with underdressed blondes who introduced "funnymen" and superannuated crooners. We decided an early night was required.

Bliss! Superheated water and an English Breakfast tea bag. Eggs for breakfast and off to the Lucca antique markets for a stroll. Reproductions of old master depictions of Madonna e bambino sat incongruently alongside facades of Il Duce. While Kim purchased earrings from an elegant Cameroon trader, I photographed a trio of dress making dummies au natural. As I perused a stall selling old Italian magazines, an arm hugged my leg just above the knee. A similarly dressed Dutch father laughed as he led a mortified young Hans away.

The temperature was swiftly passing 35 degrees as we took a table at shady Enoteca Calasto for elevenses. Calasto's English proprietor Carole told us they only sourced local produce and wine, and organic when possible. An early lunch seemed the smart thing to do as only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun. Tortelli Lucchesi for me accompanied by a piccolo bottle of a local beer Le Magnifiche Di Petrognola that uses spelt wheat. Beggars and flower sellers approached patrons as we dined.

Warning Bill Robinson! Warning! My iPhone had gone into meltdown in the soaring temperature and shut down. Sticking closely to the shady side of the street we made our way back through alleys and piazzas past hardy traders to Via San Paolino and our hotel. No sense in getting heat stroke. Buonasera time had arrived by the time we emerged rehydrated and refreshed.

Locals were filling bottles with water from la fontane on Via Della Fratta and small children were running about as evening fell. Despite feasting royally, the extra walking, retracing steps in search of that elusive trattoria seen earlier, meant kilos fall away. Breaking our non-breakable rule ~ never eat at a restaurant next to a hotel ~ crowded tables and the smell of roasting meat induced us to Alberg La Luna. Slabs of Bistecca Florentina sizzled on hot plates at most tables as we ordered our primi. You can't have too many porcinin we decided with Kim selecting Terrina Pecorino e Funghi Porcini and Souffle Di Funghi Porcini Su for Giovanni. Light and delicious! Passing on la Florentina, Kim enjoyed a secondi of Scallopinia al Vino Bianco coated in a sauce of lemon and white wine. My massive pork chop Bistecchina Di Maiale alla Griglia was the tastiest I have ever eaten. Side dishes of haricot beans and patate as accompaniments.

A waiter hovered by "Caffe?, Dolci? Hmmmmmmm..... My Fast Talk Italian states: "Italy is a caffeine-addict's dream with more ways of making the humble brew than you can shake a spoon at". Caffe americano (long and black), caffe ristretto ( short, black and super strong), cappuccino (considered a morning drink) or even caffe alla valdostana (with grappa, lemon peel and spices). No grazie! I responded. Maybe later.

Our towels had been replaced for the second time and our beds were turned down when we returned. That's service!