Episode 8: Leaning Tower of Pizza

Where can you go in Italy for £5,80 one way?  To Pisa of course, the origins of tilting architecture and tourists poised in goofy positions.

Now there were three very specific things I wanted in Pisa: to push the tower, the bite the tower and to eat pizza.  The first two, though out of context may seem a tad strange, are completely normal if not mandatory things to achieve along side fifty other tourists doing the exact same thing (but I like imagining I'm original with the biting idea).  The later one is not because Pisa is known for its pizza - no, that's what Naples is known for since that is where pizza originated, however you cannot go there for £5,80 - but for the novelty of being able to say I had pizza in Pisa.  Or Pisan pizza.  But be careful how you pronounce the second one because if you mispronounce it or get misheard, people may either laugh or be vilely disgusted. Just so you're aware of the risk.

So my roomies Michelle, Griffin, Jordan and I, along with our friends Lindsey and Megan travel by train and wonder in through the city without a map, just a general direction of where we need to be going, kind of.  But we get there, we have the pictures to prove it, and discover with it being the off season for tourists that admission into the Church free.  Ceasing the opportunity we venture through ordinate door posts depicting various biblical scenes and into the cathedral.

Words cannot even begin to describe the wondrous and overwhelming beauty.  Paintings that were sponsored by wealthy benefactors, statues of saints whose names I did not know, bones of some very important person in a box whose name I can't remember.  Candles lit in prayer and arches stretching to the golden ceiling above.  Every inch of this magnificent building is soaked in significance and meaning, and though I am unaware of what that is I can feel myself basking in it.  And my ignorance makes me self reflect and internally monologue.  Will the art I create just be forgotten like the faces of whose statues I stare at? Will the stories I make just fade from the minds of men and rendered useless, shelved in the dusty stacks of some library somewhere?  Because if this can happen to a piece of art that is huge and concrete, what will stop it from happening to something as temporary as paper or as intangible as this blog?

I don't know, and I'm not seeking an answer because there isn't one. (Wow, way to end on such a depressing note)

Until Next time! (aka tomorrow)
Ciao!