Now that I’ve come up with this rad headline, I am disappointed that I didn’t take a picture of my lunch. It was one of the thinnest thin-crust pizzas I’ve had, with roasted eggplant, peppers, onions, and big gobs of melted mozzarella. Mmmmm. I will never get sick of Italian food!

The restaurant was right by the train station, Stazione Pisa Centrale, which I managed to find on my own.  Jeff, this is proof that I am capable of navigating — even if I prefer to feign incompetence when you’re around. It’s just easier that way.

Pisa Central Station (I actually took this on the way back to the station in the event you're paying attention to the clock. In which case, you're also very detail-oriented.)

Lindsay left early Monday morning to fly from Florence, to Munich, to Newark, to Albany (sounds miserable doesn’t it?).  I slept in and left on a 9:28 train to Pisa, where I’ve never been and coincidentally from where my exceptionally cheap flight left later in the day (I actually wrote this in notepad on the plane, as I jammed to my neighbor’s tunes).

The train was easy and the ride was just about an hour long, but there was little in the way of actual instruction on how to get to the Pisa-bound train from the main Firenze station. I bought the ticket to Pisa, but the boards did not list a platform for the city. Turns out, the final destination was another town (don’t remember the name), so a tip here is to just search by departure time. I’m almost positive that no two trains leave at the exact same moment. At least that’s what I gathered from the Trenitalia employee who was speaking only in Italian to me, while pointing at his watch and looking frustrated. Dumb tourist moment.

Once in Pisa, I quickly found the baggage drop at the train station, where I deposited my luggage for 3 Euros (I’ve discovered most stations either have lockers or some version of a storage system, which makes quick stops easy — even when carrying a boatload of crap). Seemed secure, but I made sure to hold onto everything most valuable — including my new leather jacket, which I was certainly grateful for on that particular windy day. (No wonder the tower is leaning.)

The 6-Euro map of the city I purchased proved to be a waste given the hurricane-strength gusts that made it almost impossible to open and read. Fortunately, the main attraction is easy to find — basically, walk straight out of the station for about 15 minutes, then over a bridge and to the left at the Roman-looking wall. This will bring you straight to the leaning tower and the city’s duomo, or cathedral.

Here are some shots of the walk and the main attraction.

Building on the way to the tower. Notice, the sky is somewhat ominous.

The road to the tower.

There is amazing stuff to see EVERYWHERE in Italy. Just a random clock/bell tower.

The bridge you must pass over.

I guess this is Mr. Pisa, himself. And some randomly placed artwork.

Just like these windows.

Since I couldn't use my map, and my new "European" phone wouldn't connect to data, this was my first clue that I was headed in the right direction. Field trip!

The random Roman wall I referenced. Turn left here and you'll see the tower.

There it is! Truly breathtaking. And it looks so oddly placed, kind of like someone cut it out and just pasted it there.

Another shot.

The absolutely impressive cathedral behind the tower.

Proof I was there. Believe it or not, this was the best self portrait I captured. At least you can see further evidence that it was, in fact, windy.

Another random Pisa shot.

And another church just nestled in the buildings on my way back to the train station, right before my delicious Pisa pizza.

That concludes the day in Pisa. From here, I managed one more successful train ride to the Pisa airport (about 5 minutes) and was back home by 8 p.m. What a day!

More on Lindsay’s and my last day in Florence later. Can you just feel the suspense?