Next stop: Pisa to see the tower, and what do you know, it really does lean. I allowed myself the luxury of being a shameless tourist, and even asked a pack of Spanish girls to take my picture in front of it. I wanted to be ducking as if afraid it was going to fall on me, but the Spanish girl taking the photograph would have none of it. "No, no! You're too SMALL!" She yelled. "Move that way and pretend you're propping it up!"
"That's too CLICHE!" I yelled back.
But she was, after all, the photographer, so I finally sighed and somewhat begrudgingly put my hands where she told me to, and afterwards we went over the results together and giggled, and I went away basking in the afterglow of my first legitimate Spanish conversation in a very long time.
I had to power-walk back to the station to catch my train, but did manage to get a few pictures on the way... I loved something about the dirty, gritty, pastel colors of the houses overlooking the river. Then I was back on the track again, going farther into the depths of Tuscany to stay overnight at a farmhouse in Perugia.
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