Pisa, Italy (January 2026)
If you’d asked me that morning how the day would pan out, I probably would have painted a picture of rainbows, memorable happy experiences, with perhaps a risotto and a cheeky red wine or two at lunch. Instead, the day rolled into one of disappointment. It was memorable, sure, but not for the reasons I’d hoped. I almost wished I hadn’t bothered. Let’s just say, the day didn’t quite stick to the plan I had in mind!
It’s pretty easy to get to Pisa. Depending on where you’re coming from, there is an international airport, two train stations, and, of course, if you have a car, you can drive there. As we were spending a few days in Florence, we chose to catch a train.
Being low season (January), I’d left it to the night before to book train tickets for 3 of us, using my Trainline app. I’d booked tickets from Florence to Pisa San Rosso rather than to the main Pisa Centrale train station in the town, because I’d read it was a shorter walk to the Pisa leaning tower precinct. The day started out well, with me, hubby and our daughter, Miss 18, walking to the station, and making our train on time. The train journey took about 1 hour 15 mins – a scenic journey, and not as fast as the intercity trains we’d caught a few days earlier to and from Milan.
When we got off at our stop, we worked out what direction to walk, and found ourselves in a deserted, residential area, which slightly resembled an apocalypse movie scene. The only people about were the other tourists like us, walking towards the tower. It was about 15 minutes walking distance, and hubby, with his injured achilles, started complaining about how far it was, about 5 minutes in, by which time there was nothing we could do. There were no taxis nearby to hitch a lift with. We had to push on.
We eventually arrived at the external walls outside the grassy Pisa tower precinct, and could see the tops of white buildings and tower just inside. However, first we had to find something to eat, since we’d skipped breakfast that morning. There was very little choice around, just a McDonalds (which Miss 18 would have been content with) and a busy-looking cafe next door, which I chose. We were lucky to score a table inside, though it was a bit grotty, with pigeons walking around the floor eating leftover crumbs, and the table was next to a queue of people waiting for the one toilet nearby. Nevertheless, I parked hubby and Miss 18 there at the table, while I ordered drinks and pastries in my terrible Italian, which I had spent months learning on Duolingo, and had completely forgotten now I was there.
After our coffee and breakfast, we headed into the leaning tower precinct, where we found a lot of people mingling, more than I expected for low season. I can’t imagine how busy it gets in summer.
I managed to convince Miss 18 to cooperate and take the obligatory, cheesy photo of me holding up the tower, alongside all the other contenders, much to the embarrassment of hubby and Miss 18. It was quite amusing seeing the efforts other tourists were all making. Mine was a quick minute pose and exit stage right.
As we walked closer towards the tower, I contemplated whether I should brave the climb. It wasn’t a totally absurd thought. I have climbed towers before, like St Paul’s Cathedral in London, no mean feat, though I’m a little older, heavier and less fit now. Hubby definitely wasn’t keen to climb the tower with his achilles injury. So under overcast skies, we walked around the tower and the grounds outside of the other buildings on the site.
With the intention of going inside a couple of the buildings for a closer look, I found the ticket office to check out what the options and prices were. There was no queue, thanks to it being low season. In high season, it is recommended to purchase tickets in advance, from their official website: opapisa.com. Miss 18 said she wasn’t interested in entering any interiors of the buildings, so I ended up getting tickets for just hubby and I, for the Cathedral and Baptistery of San Giovanni, without the tower, and we left Miss 18 sitting outside waiting for us. She said she was fine, but I wasn’t so sure…
First, we entered the Baptistery, just before 12:30pm. Just after we entered, the lady who took our ticket closed and locked the door behind us, which I thought was a bit weird – I had that scene from Game of Thrones going through my head, the one where all the people get locked inside the Great Sept, and Cersei Lannister has it set alight using wildfire. I didn’t know what was happening, then the same woman walked up into the centre under the middle of the dome, and started singing several long, different notes, no words, almost a chant or hum, which echoed and hung in the chamber, reverberating around us. It was incredible and hard to describe, almost spiritual, like a choir with harmonies, except only performed by one person. I was so taken aback, I didn’t think to pull my iPhone out to capture it by video, until it was too late – I only caught the last few seconds of the final note, before she finished and left to unlock the doors. Still in awe from that special acoustic experience, I then climbed all the quad-burning stairs to find amazing views from near the top of the dome, inside and out, then climbed back down and rejoined hubby.
After that unexpected experience, we left the Baptistery to visit inside the cathedral across the grassy verge. It was also very beautiful, with all the usual decorative, religious artifacts, its detailed ceilings, and stained glass windows – decor you typically find inside cathedrals. It was definitely worthwhile going inside these two buildings – Miss 18 missed out.
The day started going downhill next. The weather wasn’t nice to start with; but as we came out of the cathedral, it had started drizzling, so Miss 18’s mood had dropped from disinterested to cantankerous, since she’d been sitting outside in the drizzle waiting for us. Things went further downhill from there. Steve’s knee was now hurting, as well as his Achilles. We decided it was best to leave and find shelter and somewhere to sit for a while.
Our return train ticket wasn’t scheduled for a few hours, so we thought we’d look for somewhere nearby for a nice lunch. However, not wanting to go back to the same cafe we’d been in that morning, or McDonalds next door, all we could find was a single takeaway shop across the road, which had a couple of tables inside. We sat down and browsed their wide menu, taking quite some time to translate and choose. Then, when we went to order, they told us they were only doing kebabs and pizzas. So we ordered a couple of pizzas and a kebab. Fortunately, they arrived quickly, were bigger than expected, and surprisingly quite good. We sat there for a while, killing time, wondering what to do next. I’d read the town was nice to browse, but it was way too far to walk, around a half hour. I could have managed it, but hubby was definitely not up to it, with his injured Achilles and aching knee. There didn’t seem to be any taxis around either.
Eventually, we decided to call it a day and catch an earlier train back to Florence. Sitting on the train on the way back, admiring the scenic countryside passing, I noticed the sky in the distance was turning moodier, as if heavy rain were moving closer. Matching my own mood of disappointment, I hoped the dark clouds would stay away and not follow us back to Florence.
During the train journey, I tried to hide my disappointment that our day out hadn’t been as good as I’d hoped. I had thought it worthwhile seeing the leaning tower again, and its nearby buildings and monuments, especially that incredible experience in the Baptistery with its extraordinary acoustics. But I was disappointed there wasn’t more to do and experience nearby, and that there weren’t any nice cafes or restaurants where we could have enjoyed a relaxing lunch. And I was disappointed that my travelling companions, particularly Miss 18, had not appreciated the day, and hadn’t seemed enthusiastic about seeing that well-renowned landmark tower, famous for its lean.
To top off our disappointing day, when we got back to Florence, we discovered there was a taxi strike, so we had to walk back to our apartment – 15 minutes of more complaining by my poor limping hubby. I wasn’t unsympathetic, but it really just sealed the day – being one of unmet hopes. As it started raining in Florence, I spent the evening reflecting on what, if anything, I might have done differently with the benefit of hindsight.
To read about our winter break in Florence, click here.
