Although I had told my friend, Rosemary, that she did not need to meet us at the airport in Pisa, she insisted that it was a good idea as we would be tired after the long trip. Grazie Dio, our brains could barely function as we picked up our rental car at the tiny airport that looked more like a train station than an international place for arrivals and departures.  We wound our way in our jet lagged state behind Rosemary’s small Fiat up into the hills of Lucca to the home she and her husband had built around the smallfootprint of a barn.  We were rewarded with not only their warm hospitality and wonderfully designed house, but a great view that stretched all the way to the Mediterranean Sea.

Sunset over the mountains

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