Falling into a Mud Puddle in Pisa

Little note: They serve vinegar and oil instead of butter in Italy. Also, straws are rare.

I feel better today. We got up early and took the train to Pisa. The Italian countryside has the same fractal distrubition as Los Angeles.There are cultivated sunflowers everywhere. There are a lot of decrepid places which we passed. Italy seems to be slowly degenerating from a lack of enforced rules.
We arrived after an hour later, to discover the tower was far away. I slipped in a mud puddle and fell. Yes, I got covered in it. Thankfully, there are a lot of taps in Italy, but there was no way to take the dirt off my white skirt which covered it the entire day.
My dad, mom, and I decided to walk to the tower. Pisa is very broken down, it seems, besides a few areas. My aunts and cousin were shopping. We saw the tower and my mom decided to join them. My dad and I bought tickets and saw the inside of the cathedral and battisere, which were beautiful. The architectural style is very different from Rome; less clutured but still involving many paintings. The ceiling was filled with gold flowers. I really want more time with those paintings. When I am an old, grumpy woman I'm going to come back to every major architectural wonder and museum and gaze at each painting for at least fifteen minutes each. The Battisere was simple, though coloums were carved with great skill. The simple altar was solomn brass.
My mom wanted to know why I like the churches so much. Besides the fact that beauty is not determined by religion, this art is created by the masters of the period using the full extent of their craft to celebrate what was most important to them. Religious art is sort of a doorway into the cultural subconcious and a look into how people viewed their idols and icons, another doorway into that mysteriosness of being human. The medieval icons I saw in retrospect seems to be respective of the period; technically proficent and yet flat, though this changed in later periods.
I wonder if taking pictures instead of writing those thousand words is detrimental in some way to eloquency? Anyways.
We though we had lost mom but I found her, the bus passed us by, and we all took a taxi back to the train which was not air conditioned this time and let us roast whenever it stopped. The train goes very fast, faster than Amtrak.
We returned, ate pizza, and my mom, dad, and I saw Il Duemo. The inside is actually fairly simple, with soaring ceilings and pretty windows. The outside is, well, complicated, full of green and white and statues and gold. Gorgeous. We wondered around for a bit on the streets and then came back to the hotel.

I may not be able to post tommorow.