Pizza n' Love

Sitting at the railway station, I’ve got a ticket for my destination, mmmhmmm.  On a tour of one-night-stands, my suitcase and guitar in hand---wait a minute.  That’s not right…

I’m in the railways station in Frankfurt, once again.  I said farewell to Italy at dawn in Pisa after an afternoon and sleepless night in a city that defies gravity.  The leaning tower was beautiful—much more so than I expected—tilting elegantly to an unconceivable degree, pure white and clean.  The tower was a lovely sight, stark against the blue afternoon sky and the lawn in the plaza was immaculate and green.  It was very peaceful there, and not wanting to leave, I ordered a pizza from a nearby restaurant, chose a patch of lawn, and sat down with my back to the tower to enjoy the view.  You see,  almost as pleasing to look at was the comical mass of tourists all leaning or pushing against invisible masses all across the piazza…

I spent the night in Pisa with a friend from France.  Since my flight to Germany left at dawn, we decided not to go to bed at all, but rather to roam the city and enjoy my final moments in Italy.  After a farewell dinner of handmade spaghetti con frutti di mare e pesto with fresh-baked walnut bread, white wine and the most delicious desert of yogurt cream with strawberries, Cedric and I spent the night meandering through Pisa, pausing occasionally for a view over the Arno, to have a glass of local syrah, or to dance to a few songs in a salsa club.  As the moon began to set, we returned to the plaza by the tower.  The piazza seemed as though a setting from a very gentle dream.  The cathedral and tower looked like massive, ghostly chess pieces in the midst of some lentissimo battle, the tower collapsing with grace over and over again, infinitely, each time you take your eyes from it and then look again.  Why does it not fall? A thousand times over you ask yourself, but still it continues to slant, ever poised, as though time did not exist as it always has before, as though this single moment was an eternal dream.

And—still dreaming?—I find myself back in the United States.  Four months and hundreds of gelatos later, older and more knowledgeable in the ways of agriculture, Italian language, and visa restrictions, I feel at peace with the idea of being home.  It has been a long and fulfilling journey. Arrivederci, Italia.  We will see each other again.