Dani, Chels & Joco do Italy - Day 5 - Pisa

If you are touring through Italy, and you think "Hey, I'd really like to see the leaning tower of Pisa" then I think, "great, and so you should!". And you should go from Florence and a lot just enough time in your day to see the tower, take the silly photo where it looks like you are holding the tower up, and then go back to Florence or somewhere else.

We, however, chose to spend way too long in Pisa.

We arrived in Pisa from Florence at night and were greeted with another beaut of a hostel. The bus ride took approximately 45 minutes (we found out in the morning that you can walk clear across Pisa in the same amount of time), but luckily we somehow got a free ride ("Excuse me, how do we get tickets?". "Later, just get on") Sweet!

So we showed up at our hostel to see a note telling us to call this person for check in. We called. And called. And called. And called. And called. And called. And called. No answer. Great. So we sat. And waited. Another guest at the hotel came along to tell us that the owner lives around back and we should just go knock on the door. We went around back, but all we found were lights out, a beware of dog sign and a really creepy statue of the Madonna (virgin Mary). Great. We fretted and fretted and tried to come up with a solution, when, suddenly, half an hour or so later, a man arrived on a Vespa, pulled in, gave us our room key and left again. Weirdest hostel ever.

We woke up in the morning to go see the tower. If we had known that was all Pisa had to offer we likely would have slept longer. But alas, the tower photo shoot was terrific fun. We toured around the Miracle Square, saw the church, and whatnot before venturing out to see what else Pisa had to offer. The answer was of course, nothing, so we headed back to the tower, took more photos with it and laid in grass for the rest of the afternoon. At one point an interesting group of young Italian men decided to try and get our attention by kicking a soccer ball over us, and then bouncing it off my ass, and my side and almost my face before we finally talked to them, and politely told them to move on. Silly Italians.

Me, under the Tuscan sun.

Jocelyn pushing the tower over on me.

Chelsea gets my revenge

We ate dinner and found some wine, went back to our hostel (the hostel website boasted that they were in the Beverley Hills of Pisa - quite entertaining) and ultimately got our drink on. Why do so many of my life stories end up with a bottle of wine? Because I'm awesome, or because I'm terrible? I can't be certain.