Livorno Things to Do

... along what I found out to be an 18th century promenade, when I saw a young guy in speedos come up a tiny track.
So I went down the track thinking there was probably a beach and there was.
I hadn't yet found out how keen the Livornese are on the beach culture. And tanning. So I was surprised to see so many people had taken the mountain goat path down to this rocky beach. And to see a couple of them were very nearly done to a turn. Baked mahogany brown.

Bought a ticket at a news stand. In Livorno it is a bit less than 1 euro for 60 minutes. I waited at the bus stop for the first bus that came along.
Realised I was standing on the wrong side of the road.
Crossed the road, yelping with fear at the way the drivers don't slow down, or seem to see you, but just dodge you at the last moment.
The bus to Miramare came along.
I got on the bus and stamped my ticket in the machine.
And this is where I ended up.
There was a little cafe so I went in for a snack.
There was only a case of rather tired looking food. No menu.
The guy looked embarrassed when I didn't like the look of anything. Italians take such pride in their jobs. They are easily shamed.
So I picked the least unsavoury looking thing and asked for it - caldo.
Thinking that might cheer it up a bit.
He got it in his tongs and said - No caldo. Soft. Soft. Look.
It was just edible. The coffee was good though.
And there I was at Miramare.

... for the second gent.
The paramedics patted him a lot too. It seemed to comfort him.
They loaded him into the back. He was talking voluably, waving his hands about, so I think he'll live.
I really wanted to take a photo of him being loaded, but it seemed a bit off.
The young helpers wheeled his vespa away.
I continued on my way.
Just a couple of bingles in Livorno.
No need to take it too seriously.

... the old gent who had been riding the vespa in the first accident turned up, on his feet, looking sprightly.
Bit of a palaver. Everyone was quite cool.
The girls drove the car to the side of the road and the police made chalk marks around the body of the vespa.
I have no idea who was in the wrong.
One got the impresion though that it was the old gent on the vespa.
Maybe his reaction time had slowed down.
Speedy reactions are the trick to staying alive on Italian roads.

Then an old gent on another vespa ran up onto the footpath and crunched himself. No idea why.
Everyone attending to the first accident turned around, flapped their arms shouting things like - Oh no! Not another one! - and ran across to help.
He didn't seem to want to stand up. A car stopped and thrust a bottle of water out the window to the helpers and sped off.
The helpers bathed his wounds with the water and patted him a lot.
I don't think an accident victim in the Antipodes would have been patted. But he didn't seem to mind being patted.

I walk out of the church - and there were these two girls that had crunched the lovely new yellow vespa!
No sign of the rider.
But they looked quite insouciant so I reckoned they hadn't killed the rider.
They were standing in the middle of the road as the traffic roared round them.

I noticed a small window, low in the wall in a side chamber near the candles, that was open.
Outside young lads and their dog were larking about, sunbathing and joshing each other. I couldn't understand what they were saying. But I knew that was what they were doing.
So I sat in a pew right in the breeze and cooled off.
Then the priest came in with two older parishioners.
They gave me sharp, surprised glances.
I got that look a lot in Livorno.
So I left.
I do feel a bit embarrassed in Catholic churches because I don't know how to do that bob and cross yourself thing as I enter and leave.

There are acres of churches in Rome. You are always tripping over them in Genoa. But In Livorno I had a particular reason to look for one, and realised there just weren't that many around.
My particular reason is I wanted to light a candle for some friends who had found themselves in a spot of bother. Not that I am religious, or anything. But I like to find a church, make an offering, light a candle and sit and think about whatever friends have got into a spot of bother.
This one was a very plain workaday church. No great art. Shabby around the edges. No candles burning.
I lit a candle for my friends. I lit one for my family. And then I did something I have never done before. I lit one for myself.