Pisa on a Whim

Yesterday, Saturday, I went to Pisa, a decision I made late Friday night. I am becoming brave!

I woke early, at 5:10, in spite of a night of restless sleep…first a dog barking incessantly and then a rain storm with terrible winds. I walked through the darkened streets, and watched the town just beginning to wake. My favorite bar was brightly lit and I saw someone inside huddled up in the kitchen, probably warming their hands in the oven. The 6:20 bus to Terontola arrived first which took me right to the station where I caught the 6:45 train to Firenze, and, after a quick change, the train to Pisa Centrale.

After a bathroom stop at the station, I walked across the street and partook in an Italian tradition, a coffee drunk standing at the counter of a bar. I had a small map of Pisa, but stopped for a larger one at the tourist office, around the corner from the bar. My Lonely Planet guidebook suggested it would take about twenty-five minutes to walk to the duomo and I suppose it did, but now that I have achieved a higher level of fitness, I just don’t notice those walks much anymore. Hurray! I crossed the wide Arno River near a tiny, but ornate church called Santa Maria della Spina, so called as it was built to hold a single thorn reputedly from Christ’s crown of thorns. This beautiful little church huddles curiously on the sidewalk right at the edge of the river.

After another 10 minute walk, I crossed a wide pedestrian mall containing the Piazza dei Miracoli, to behold a breathtaking sight, the duomo and its world-famous bell tower, Il Torre Pendente, the leaning tower of Pisa. I approached the tower from the side beneath its precarious tilt, feeling curiously uneasy as though the brilliantly white structure might actually topple over on me in spite of the team of engineers who strive to keep it leaning, but upright. It was a gorgeous day and the sparkling, crystal structure stood out magnificently against the cerulean sky. I took a multitude of pictures, and then purchased a ticket to visit the baptistry and the cemetery (said to contain soil shipped from Calvary during the crusades) contained within the piazza, neither of which, in hindsight, were really worth the money.

I enjoyed the duomo, which had an immense, flat ceiling decorated with carved wooden rosettes painted with gold leaf similar to the ceiling of Santa Maria Maggiore which I visited in Rome. I wandered around, slowly, admiring the frescoes and the brightly-colored stained glass windows through which the sun shone sending a series of miniature rainbows bouncing around the interior of the cathedral. Fortunately no one seemed to mind picture taking so I snapped away happily.

After visiting the cemetery and the little domed baptistry, both more impressive from the outside than from within, I walked back toward town to explore the medieval alleyways. I popped into a couple of shops but didn’t find anything other than some 3-D Christmas labels to purchase. I turned left upon reaching the flat, wide Arno River and walked a couple of blocks before returning to the piazza to locate a likely place for lunch. Many of the cafés and restaurants in the area feature annoying employees who stand prominently near the entrance and attempt, rather obnoxiously, to lure you in for a drink or lunch. I avoided these places and selected one where a waiter stood ready to answer questions or provide a seat, but did not actively pursue my business.

I was seated outside at my request and when I heard a couple speaking English behind me, I inquired if the young woman was enjoying her pizza. She said it was very good so I ordered a mozzarella, speck (rather like prosciutto), and gorgonzola pizza, which was tasty although I would have preferred a bit more gorgonzola. The couple, he was 58 and she 22, continued to chat with me and the conversations took an oddly circular yet strangely unrelated path; she talking of their travels together and where she’d like to visit next, and he of his life as a butcher and of the importance of a quality cut of meat. I could never ascertain their relationship…they’d obviously traveled together before and yet there were no obvious endearments nor did she call him “dad” or “grandpa”. The man was annoyingly persistent in his notion that Americans are wealthy and money is no object when it comes to our spending habits. He also wanted to know if Texas has many buffalo and inquired if the “Indians” still want some of their land back. All in all a rather unusual lunch conversation, but they were friendly and lunch passed quickly in their company.

After lunch I felt as though I had seen what I wanted to see in Pisa, so I walked back to the station and caught a train for home. All was well until I tried to open the door to exit the train at Camucia and the door wouldn’t budge. I was forced to travel on to the next stop in Terontola, where a young woman and I had the same problem until it occurred to her (but not to me) that the train had pulled up to a platform on the opposite side of where it normally arrives, and sure enough, the door on that side opened! I guess I will need to learn to check BOTH sides before trying to get off the train. I was left to purchase a bus ticket from Terontola to Cortona, a distance of about 10-15 kilometers, and then wandered the tiny village for an hour trying to keep warm until the bus arrived. When I entered Cortona it was to find workers hanging Christmas lights down via Nazionale and across Piazza della Repubblica. I wonder when they will turn them on!

As of Tuesday, the holiday lights are still dark, but we had snow yesterday morning! Enormous, wet flakes which hit the ground with a juicy splat, and made carrying an open umbrella a necessity. I also received a heartfelt and loving email from my friend, Perry. Its contents are private, but suffice it to say, his friendship is a joy to me. How lucky I am!