Pisa Was Meant to Be

Whenever a group of sailors gets together, one of two things happens. The first occurs when two ships are heading in the same direction and an impromptu, unofficial regatta suddenly starts, each claiming "it is not a race". The second occurs when there isn't enough wind for a non-race and then the sailors' tales begin, each besting the other or providing warnings and advice of future ports of call.

When we were just beginning our Med sail, we were often the recipient of an earful about the Cote d'Azur and just how awfully crowded, hot, expensive and snooty southern France could be. Now, the source was often English sailors and it seems the French and English live to keep their love-hate relationship alive. We also had heard how great Italy could be the further south you went, but just how hard it was to find anchorage along the Ligurian and Tuscan coasts and almost impossible to find dock space. And if you have a catamaran whose dimensions make you almost a perfect rectangle, you might as well pack it in now.

So as we meandered along the southern French coastline, we discovered crowded beaches, hot towns where the sweat trickled down your back before you stepped ashore, expensive boutiques and the occasional snooty Frenchman. But we avoided the beaches in favour of the small towns and islands, adjusted our schedules to miss the mid day sun, shopped the local markets and never stepped foot in a boutique and found ourselves charmed by the subtle humour of the French waiters and the patience of the shopkeepers as we made our almost daily market purchases.

We approached the home of pizza, pasta and gelato with a bit of anchoring trepidation - even the chart books showed few anchorages along the coast and we have a date with a dentist in Lavagna on August 26th (that is a whole other story). After we had left Elba and her lovely bays, we were bound for the Tuscan coast and Marina de Pisa, a small town just 10 km from the world-famous Pisa. So far we had pretty good luck, but our captain had his doubts we would find a place to dock and as we started up the River Arno, it looked hopeless. Lining the river were massive fishing nets and not too far ahead were overhead cables that would further thwart our attempts. But to our pleasant surprise, our radio call was answered in broken English, "head to dock 19". We docked stern to, settled in and John, Jenny and I headed to Marina de Pisa, a mere 4 km walk into town. (Connor stayed on board to finish the Da Vinci Code, one of the many novels he is chewing through these days). With the exception of the best gelato and pizza, there isn't a lot in Marina de Pisa, particularly no car rental.

We boarded a bus heading to Pisa with a plan for Jenny and I to get off at our marina and John to head to Pisa to find a car to rent. With no idea where the bus stops and watching for our marina, which in essence looked like a bunch of houses with some masts in the background behind hedges and construction, we rang the stop bell 'now', hoping for the shortest walk possible. Seems we nailed it and literally walked across the street. And seems John nailed the only car rental in the vicinity of the bus station who just happened to be open til 7 and happened to have one car left, a tiny blue FIAT with tires smaller than our fold up bikes. He was home in no time and we happily jumped in and returned to Pisa with a less than detailed map.

With no wrong turns, we parked along the street, paid our money in the meter and walked towards the Piazza dei Miracoli (Miracle Square). We could see the dome of the cathedral up the street and to the left, the Baptistry. But it was only as we entered the square that we spotted the belltower. There SHE stood, the Leaning Tower of Pisa. She is beautiful, clean, simple, and leaning, almost foolishly, but perfectly. It was the strangest feeling to be standing directly in front of her after all these years of seeing her in text books and post cards. The first thing we did was what every tourist does - snap photos of us 'holding' up the tower. We wandered to the ticket office and bought tickets for the tour the next morning and a few souvenirs. We crossed the grounds and then headed to a small restaurant for pasta.

As we returned to the boat John and I just looked at each and agreed, it was just meant to be. First, a dock spot in the most unlikely and ugliest of marinas. Then a bus ride stopping directly in front of the marina. Next, the only car rental in site, stays open and has one last car. We drive into Pisa, get a parking spot a block away from one of the Seven Wonders of the World and pay 1 EU for the meter when it costs $35/day to park in downtown Toronto to go to work. And then, we are greeted by a site that took our breath away, so majestic and pure as the evening sun lit her up. Pisa was just meant to be.

And it gets better. The next day, we got up early all ready for our trip back to the tower to climb up to the top. As we got in the car, John turned the key to ...silence. Dead battery. So what are the odds you can actually communicate, 'do you have jumper cables' in Italian? But lo and behold, the guy looks at our problem, walks back into his workshop and drags out a battery with cables on a cart and boosts the car. We make it back into town with 10 minutes before our scheduled tour, walk back into the plaza, stow our bags and head for the tower. Walking up the Leaning Tower of Pisa is no mean feet. Exactly 300 steps that slope to the outside of the building, then get steeper and then slope to the inside of the tower as you round each level. The view from the top looks over the thousands of Pisan roofs, terra cotta as far as the eye can see. After the designated time, we are instructed to leave for the next tour of guests. Tours run on the half hour and are limited to 15 with a strict no bag policy; they are serious about their Tower and protect her with a maternal love.

We head back to the car and with a full rental day ahead of us, decide to drive into Chianti country and explore a little of the countryside. We are immediately surrounded by fields of sunflowers turning their heads under the Tuscan sun. We speed along the Fi-Pi-Li highway (Firenze, Pisa, Livorno) and in no time land in Firenza, or as we like to call her, Florence. Knowing that this renaissance city takes a good 3 days, we choose to continue to Chianti country, but when we spot the roof of Brunelleschi's famous Duomo, we alter course and vrooming down narrow streets, hit upon the high end fashion district right around the corner of the Duomo Santa Maria del Fiore and Campanile belltower. It was meant to be. John parks the car outside of Gucci, while the kids and I quickly venture across the square to take a few pics and marvel at the beauty of the church and Baptistry. We traded positions, I stand guard over our illegal parking spot while John quickly walks around.

We head out of the city making our way through streets spilling over with tourists and market stalls and stop for gas and some of the best pizza we have ever had, made by the guy who works at the Speedy Pizza in the gas station. We continue to Greve in the heart of Chianti country and just before we hit the town square, we turn up a winding road to the small town of Montefioralle, which is just a few tiny streets with beautiful doors and vines and bougainvillea climbing the walls. We turn into an Enoteche, a wine store, and sample the wines from 2004 to 2006 and purchase a few bottles. We wandered the triangular plaza in Greve under the watchful eye of Giovanni da Verrazzano, the statue of the local boy who made good as the first European to see Manhattan in 1524.

Driving back to Pisa we took the scenic Chiantigiana road and stopped in a 'mall' to provision for the next few weeks. Running late, we made the choice to take the car back to the rental place and then take a taxi to the boat, but the rental owner gives us a grace period so John drives us back to the boat, returns the car and catches the bus back to the boat. All in all, Pisa was just meant to be.