Pisa

Pisa was gray and wet. It had neither the charm of Florence nor the size of Rome and it gave off, ultimately, a sad sense of neglect. It was as if the entire city thrived on this single tourist attraction (which, when you think about it, is itself slowly decaying) at the expense of other municipal developments. But perhaps we only felt this because it was a rainy (fewer tourists) Monday and many of the shops were closed (it's a European thing).

Despite the weather, Pisa made for a rather nice day trip. We stopped at a local market and were given free samples at nearly every booth--cheese, beans, saucisses, and the best olive I have ever tasted. It wasn't easy, but we finally decided on some exceptional pastries and dried apricots.

The tower itself is...well, leaning. While this fact is quite commonly known, I was surprised at how urban its location was. The sight of one of the most famous buildings in history looming up from behind power lines and apartment buildings is rather strange--un peu surréal, if you will.

When we learned that it cost €15 to actually climb the tower, we groaned our poor student groans (to which I have long grown accustomed) and decided just to sit and look at it instead. And so we ate some conciliatory pastries.



Mine is on the right, covered in powdered sugar and sliced almonds. Inside were hundreds of fine, doughy layers which gave it almost a custard-y taste. Thus the disappointment passed rather quickly.

As we headed over to take our obligatory Leaning Tower of Pisa photos (see below) we were stopped by two highly questionable Italian boys, Jimmy and Enrico, who attempted, in their very broken English, to talk to us. We fled after the initial necessary politesse and took refuge, like so many others throughout history, in the church.



While it may seem that the tower stands largely isolated from other buildings, it is actually part of a large complex of shops, museums, and an incredible church. I must have been in hundreds of churches since arriving in Europe but I never cease to be amazed by the breathtaking intricacies that each one has to offer. It is often physically overwhelming to enter some of these buildings, as one is instantly enveloped in a mass of gold, marble, paint, and stone in every possible combination. While the chapels and altars and relics are all impressive, I personally have a weakness for the ceilings. As you can see, I was not disappointed.

Florence

Where to even begin...ten days in Italy, countless gelatos later, nearly an entire bank account's worth of traveling, bus, foot, train, plane and I have finally returned to Aix. A girl from my program and I just spent the past week and a half traveling through Italy for our spring vacation, stopping in Florence, Pisa, and Rome. I am unable to find the words or the time to describe everything I've experienced, and so this feeble sketch will have to suffice.

Florence is one of the more beautiful places I have ever been. The light there has a most particular cast, giving everything it grazes a warm tint of gold. As the sun sets over the Arno River each night, the city's multiple bridges are silhouetted against the fading spectrum. It's remarkable. And it makes all the more sense to think that this was once the center of Western art.

But this appreciation of art has not disappeared with time, as the city is still home to a multitude of statues, fountains, palaces, museums, and cathedrals. I was able to see, most notably, Michaelangelo's David and Botticelli's The Birth of Venus and La Primavera. I always find these moments somewhat surreal (like seeing the pyramids and King Tut's treasure in Egypt) to see with my own eyes what has previously been confined to glossy textbook pages. We wandered through countless galleries of early Christian art as well--something for which I have developed a strange fondness. I only wish I was better adept at interpreting all the religious symbols utilized in the paintings.

Perhaps one of the best recognized symbols of Florence is its large domed cathedral known as the Duomo, dominating the rest of the clay-tiled horizon. The church itself is magnificently done--intricate frescos, carved doors, layered stone--but my favorite part was its nearby tower. It is well worth the six euros and four hundred something steps it takes to reach the top. Indeed, the view is breathtaking from such a height.

But in spite of all that we experienced there, I have to say that my favorite place were the Boboli gardens at the Pitti Palace. The morning's rain had turned into fog by the time we arrived, and the myriad of gravel walkways were edged by this fine mist. Branch-lined archways, moss-covered statues, fountains, endlessly-splitting paths--all possessed the slight sense of neglect that makes a garden mysterious and compelling. I could have spent hours there, lost in the immensity of dozen different gardens.


Sunset over the river


A piazza and carousel by night


A view of the city from the Boboli gardens


A floating citrus orchard in the Boboli gardens