You thought I was going to put the tower there, didn't you. Admit it. If you take the train to Pisa, you have to march across the entire city to get to the Duomo. Along the way, there's not much. There is Santa Maria della Spina, which was built on the Arno in Pisa as a repository for a thorn from the crown of thorns (I wonder if those people at Sainte Chapelle realize that they are missing one thorn?) It's a delightful building, although it was closed. The quality of light in Pisa is different, perhaps because it's closer to the sea. The carara marble close to gleams in such light.
There is another interesting place along the way, and that is the Orto botanico a beautiful garden associated with the University - that unfortunately was not open. I could see bits and pieces through the fence and it looked quite inviting.
The train trip to Pisa was uneventful. I had a First Class ticket and there were only Second Class cars. Buying tickets on Italian trains is always an iffy proposition. No mind, it was great to just sit back and let the countryside move by. The guidebook called the western tuscan countryside "unremarkable", but I found it quite inviting with huge stands of cane, fields of hay, rolling in a Kansas kind of way. The trip takes about an hour.
So you walk through town - pretty gritty. Well, Florence, is gritty too, to be honest. The buildings in Florence keep you from looking at the grit. Pisa does not have that grace. The walk from Centrale to the cathedral takes you right through the university section, and then suddenly you're there. Oh, I forgot the Arno, which until it silted up, made Pisa a major port on the Ligurian Sea. They traded with Spain and with North Africa, which fact becomes important later on. The Arno is very wide in Pisa, and so huge bridges cross it at points. Looking down from della Spina you can see a very large and tall fortress guarding the waterway.
As I approach the cathedral I feel the need for food, and have a wonderful tartina alle crema, a little pastry shell filled with pastry cream and pignola. (Arthur and I had something very much like this in Sevilla, Spain, once).
The compound reveals itself slowly. You first become aware of the apsidal end of the cathedral at the end of the street, and when you arrive at spreads out in front of you, gleaming and white. To the far left is the Baptistry, and in the background the campsanto, the cathedral itself (immediately in front of you) and slightly to the right - the tower. Each of these elements requires its own ticket! So I go get one.
The campsanto is really an enclosed burial ground, filled it is said with soil from the Holy Land. It looks very much like a cloister, a rather elongated one. One enters on the long side of the rectangle, with the chapel end on your right. At the end of the Second World War, a bomb hit the roof of this structure, and it burned, taking with it the precious frescos that line(d) the side of the cloister. The roof has been restored, as have some of the frescos. What they did save in some instances were the underdrawings of the series, which are now housed in a research facility called the museo sinopia. Along with all of this are hundreds of marble sarcophagi from ancient times to the last century.
The interior of the Baptistry was remarkable in its simplicity, and its unusual dome. The actual font is huge; large enough to allow immersion. I wonder when they stopped. So it reflects an ancient usage. There is an altar, a particularly beautiful ambo, and a stunning pulpit. I climb up to the gallery, hoping to shoot the font from above, but we are kept from the edge - the shot is not possible. The baptistery is not popular, people pop in and then out, rather than taking in the quiet and restraint of the building. It is refreshing.
It is on a liturgical axis with the cathedral itself - the door of the baptistry leads to the door of the cathedral. The same is true in Florence, but not as physically evident, in that the doors (the Ghiberti doors) are always closed, and so you don't get the liturgical connection. The cathedral itself is quite grand, but in a nineteenth century let's-fix-this-place-up kind of way - so it's not as convincing. There is a another wonderful pulpit, and wonderful statues that stand over the holy water stoops. There is a new altar and ambo, added after the reforms of Vatican II, which are quite modern. It has a baroque feeling to it, and fits in (sort of) and is refreshing
I have not bought a ticket for the tower. It is another 15 euro, and a lot of steps and waiting around. So I look at the tower, and then move on to the Opera, the museum of the cathedral opera (works). Like all Italian buildings, these shed as well, and so the detritus is kept in the museum. Of special interest are a collection of ancient findings on the compound (a paleochristian church sits under the cathedral) and an excellent collection of vestments. Also interesting are architectural details that document the Arabian influence of both Spain and North Africa upon Pisa artisans.
It's time for lunch, so I walk up the street a bit and get a seat at an outdoor restaurant. I order the papardelle con salsa lepere. It's a tuscan specialty - broad noodles with a rabbit sauce. It was delicious. Next to me, however, was something just as delicious. An older woman was seated with a much younger man. In a way, I felt as though I were sitting in a scene from "The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone". The woman, who was probably in her fifties, was desperately trying to look younger. Her hair was at least five shades ranging from blond, through orange, to an almost red. She had on heavy eye makeup, black with blue highlights, two shades of lipstick, that outlined her lips in a darker color. She had on a revealing silk(?) blouse that was a very colorful print, and she was tanned enough to worry an oncologist. The young man, probably 15 or so, was incredibly beautiful with curly dark brown hair, clear skin, the traces of a beard, and bright bright eyes. They had an animated coversation in Italian, and fought over the bill, after sharing rabbit stew with grilled polenta and espressi. I wonder what the story was.
After lunch I go over to the museo di sinopia to look at the cartoons of the frescos from campsanto. There is a 3D presentation, in which you can see how the frescos looked prior to their destruction. I find one cartoon with a name, and fecit, "so and so made this". People did this work and they recorded their faces, their troubles, their vocations, their clothing, their faith, and their troubles. It was quite moving.
There is another museum in town, but I am undone, and ready to just get on a train and get home. So that is what I do. The afternoon train is rattier than the morning one, but it is relieved by two young men who are traveling together from Pisa to Milano. They are a couple, young, and cute. There is, however, a cultural war going on (much like the one I saw on the plane from Frankfurt to Florence.) The shorter Italian boy has made all of the arrangements, and when the conductor comes there is the usual Italian bureaucrat problem. "You were supposed to validate these tickets in the machine" they are told, as am I. Funny, I didn't have to do it in the morning. This sets the other one (the German) off - "Next time we fly!" It was interesting to watch their faces as they sparred, pouted, made up, and moved on.
Back in Florence I drop by Santa Maria Maggiore for a brief visit - a nice calming little chapel. I drop by Feltrinelli to buy at walking map of Rome - I need to plan for tomorrow - and stop by for a sorbetto al limone at a place right behind the cathedral. When I get back to my room I suddenly feel the need for a nap - and take a long and deep one - full of dreams.
Now i write this and have a panino con tonno e pommodoro. The end of a nice day.
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Older woman with much younger man -- her grandson perhaps??
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