It was still rather early in the evening so we took the opportunity to walk Lucca’s streets and attempt to achieve the “are we lost yet” heights of touristic utopia.

It was a postcard tour of about 2 hours duration, the amfiteatro, piazza napoleone, churches, puccini’s birthplace and even stumbling across the (its actually pretty big) aquaduct that supplies most of the town’s drinking water, and it seems most of the town’s empty beer bottles and other general refuse…. yeah but at least it was clean garbage, god bless italy.

We returned to trattoria gigi for another round of great food and bevvy, this time accompanied by good and varied conversation. The rizzuti were also kind enough to allow me to swallow a few red wines and then crap on at will uninterrupted about my “on tour” thrills and spills, my gesticulation factor and volume rose in direct line with my consumption of red wine and grappa,.. ahh… sobriety,.. who needs it,.. the aching left foot, the sore hip, neck and chest,.. whittled away to nothing by the wonders of grappa.

After dinner we returned to the streets of Lucca and stumbled back towards Piazza Napoleone, so great to see a public square, simple but functional being used just for that purpose, people standing around talking in groups, others promending and pretending not to enjoy the fact that people are looking at them, others in cafes or restaurants,.. Having soaked in the locals rich pageant we returned to the rizzuto compound and experienced more culture clashing. Papa rizzuto has some family in Slovenia, and had managed to head up there for a spell during the rizzuto family does europe 2003 tour. Amongst the no doubt fascinating souvenirs the family acquired during the slovenian sleepover was a real treat, a few flagons of the slovenian “vodka” as they cheekily refer to the rocket fuel they like to allow to slide down their throats. Papa rizzuto had even managed to secure the traditional serving vessel for the slivovitsa,.. the 1.5 litre plastic water bottle… a true classic.

A balmy night drove us outdoors with our nightcap in hand, much to the anti delight of the neighbours who at least had us to blame for the fact that they couldnt get any sleep. Papa rizzuto passed around the plastic cups we had scrounged from within the Le Torre megaplex.

It was smooth, it was hot, it was hot and smooth and hot and hot all at the same time. Ben and I exchanged “what the fuck did i just do to my body voluntarily” glances as we sipped the experimental beverage that the slovo-rizzuti had passed onto us. papa rizzuto was quick with the refills and we continued past midnight once we had bid buono notte to the women folk.

We decided that this self flagellation had to end and I, clutching a hefty sample of the evil brew in my hands waddled off towards my allocated room. The walk back to Le Torre 1 seemed swift, yes I was stupid enough to have another swig on my way back home… i was thirsty!

I arrived to the front door to find the 3 dutch girls from room 1 fumbling with the rather dodgy lock protecting us sleeping LeTorrians from the rest of the world. I offerred them a drink and to my surprise they took the bottle, sniffed and took not pitiful sips as i skilfully opened the gateway to beds and slumber for all. Yes I was stupid enough to say goodnight to 3 cute, pure alcohol swilling dutch girls and head straight to bed…

At approximately 4:00am, the health giving properties of alcohol had worn off and i awoke in a coughing fit with my throat almost completely closed.. I staggered towards the table were i had placed my water bottles,.. yes my four 1.5 litre plastic water bottles, I reached for the fifth of these four bottles and took 3 large gulps before i realised what i had managed to do to myself… buono notte.