It was, if not a mad dash, then the next most frenzied description for an anxious walk to make it somewhere on time, to the train station. Maddie had said we would catch the quickest train at 7:30, but when we arrived just in time, there was no such train. Puzzled, with panic waiting in the wings, we retraced our steps to figure out what went wrong. Ultimately, our haste had been for naught, as Maddie had mistaken our train to Pisa with a train from Lucca to Florence. We were looking at numerous schedules the night before, so this is an understandable mixup to make, and it made very little difference because another, albeit slower, train would be arriving in 20 minutes.
I don't drink coffee, mostly because I don't like the taste (the smell on the other hand, now that's another matter). I suppose coffee is somewhat like wine to me, in that it would be an uphill battle to begin to appreciate it. Starting with a prolonged period of merely tolerating it, I'm guessing over time I would come to enjoy it. Now, I very much enjoy wine occasionally, but to go through that process all over again with coffee is a mildly daunting, tedious process I cannot will myself to undertake. As for the subject of caffeine, I've made it this far without needing stimulants to get me going, and my sleep and digestive problems keep me preoccupied enough without adding another variable to my insomniac equation. It is on those rare mornings of insurmountable fatigue such as this, however, that I wish I liked coffee. This passionate desire to want it clashed with my negative reaction to caffeine to an extent that made passing the countless cafes excruciating. Throughout the entire morning, afternoon and even into the evening, I would lean over to Maddie and whine, "I should really stop for some coffee." We both knew I wasn't going to get any, and the comment transmuted into the sort of inside joke that just made us both smile every time. Getting a little sluggish on the last half mile stretch to the train station? Should've grabbed a coffee...
Instead of perking myself up, I used the hour and a half train ride to nap, as has become my custom this trip. Cars, no way. Planes, nope. But trains? I'm not sure if I'm always sleep-deprived when I'm on one, or if there is some yet unknown quality to the ride itself that escorts me directly to dreamland. On our arrival in Pisa, we pretty much followed the scattered mass of fellow passengers donning DSLR's and cargo shorts to what was safe to assume was our mutual destination. It was a little muggier in Pisa, and this might have added to the sort of grimy impression that initial walk gave me. As we neared the piazza and leaning tower, though, the streets became gradually more inviting and lively. And when we finally rounded a corner and spied the top of the tower, it jumped out at us how very crooked the structure was. It most certainly did not disappoint on that score. I suppose it's height under-delivered on expectations, but the ornate architecture of the tower, cathedral and baptistery together were mightily impressive. The vast green, virgin lawn stood out against the greying sky and whitish buildings. It really was a wonderful sight that alone would have been marginally worth the trouble of getting up so early. What really cemented the value of our stop in Pisa were the hordes of other day tripping tourists there for the same reasons as us--to see the tower.
Now, in retrospect, I think I was aware of the corny, almost requisite pose holding up the leaning tower, but it didn't really cross my mind on our way there. Upon joining the masses in that square, however, it became crystal clear that we couldn't go all the way there and NOT pose with the damn thing. We eventually got off a couple of terribly cheesy, embarrassing prop shots of us trying only semi-successfully to line up our hands with the tower's edge. But not before I took dozens of photos of other tourists doing the same thing, compiling them all in a steady stream of embarrassment on my snapchat story to hopefully give the sense of ridiculousness one might feel if ever given the opportunity to visit the tower. And it was much easier to poke fun at everyone--including ourselves--until I marked myself as the crowd lunatic when I whipped my cooking pot out for its own photo op with the landmark. No shame. None whatsoever.
Still laughing at the silliness of it all, we wandered back to the train station after finishing our breakfast we had packed. Now it was on to Lucca. My knowledge of historical context surrounding most of the places we've visited has been laughably slim. And Lucca poses little exception. One could argue that when so much context is lost on the observer, it is almost a waste. And that argument is not unfounded, but we have enjoyed every second of our visit, learning bits and pieces as we go along--experiential learning, you might call it. Anyway, the ancient walls that surround the heart of Lucca are broad, impressive and exciting in that they evoke the childhood wonder of a medieval castle.
Once inside, it's readily apparent why so many people enjoy taking day trips to this city. It is in every way charming, much more relaxed and less crowded than Florence, but with numerous beautiful, imposing cathedrals and lively, breezy piazzas. It was around 2pm when we breached the city walls, and we were ready for lunch. Having looked up a few good spots, we settled on what turned out to be one of the fancier meals we've had, despite the cost being the same as most of the other spots we've tried. Salted bread a notch above your average offering, white tablecloth--it was nice to see how the other half lives. I had some fresh spaghetti with a tomato fish sauce, as well as a side of beans with olive oil. Maddie had a rich parmesan risotto with red wine reduction. It was absolutely wonderful.
After lunch, we located the nearest bike rental shop, having read ahead of time that it's a fun thing to do. So for the next hour, and for only 6 euros, we rode our bikes on the wide path atop the giant wall, encircling the entire city a couple of times. Having dressed for colder, stormier weather, I was almost disappointed that the weather remained what most people would classify as very pleasant. But on most stretches, a reviving breeze swept our faces and made the whole experience a blast, with Maddie only slightly abusing the use of her bike's bell. Once the hour was up, we strolled over to a reputable gelato place, which had admittedly tasty gelato, but it was overpriced and meagerly portioned. Still all smiles, we wandered leisurely back to the train station and boarded for Florence.
Once back in our neighborhood, we tended to the 13 wretchedly itchy spider bites I've accrued during my stay here, poured ourselves a glass of wine, and relaxed until we were ready for dinner. We then ventured to get pizza, realizing for the umpteenth time this trip that our destination was closed. Undaunted, we simply crossed the local square to an appealing Osteria (Santo Spirito) and had what was for me the best meal of the trip. They gave us bread with a delicious olive tepenade, and they had special balsamic sweet apple vinegar for dipping with oil. We shared one of the best salads I could imagine--super straightforward and fresh--and Maddie ordered fresh made spaghetti with tomatoes and basil while I ordered fresh spaghetti with lots of sweet garlic, olive oil and chili flakes. It was fantastic!
Growing weary, we soon payed and walked the 2 minute walk to our place, where we got ready for bed. It's been a long day and my bug bites are driving me mildly insane, but it's yet another unforgettable day in Italy, and we're continuing to savor every moment.
Tomorrow morning: a pizza making class!
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