June 30: Pisa and Viareggio

We're finally getting to know our way around Florence (even though it's only been a few days, it feels so weird to not know where you're going or what you're doing). We made it to the train station this morning after stopping to ask directions twice (three times if you count the lady that turned me down because she thought I was a pickpocket). We took the train to Pisa, and arrived around 11.

Somehow, we avoided a 40 euro fine that we should have paid because we didn't time stamp our tickets. We managed to find the Leaning Tower or Pisa, after we had to switch buses because we went the wrong direction. It's super huge, super touristy, super crooked (and you can climb it!), but still really awesome to see and say you've been there.

 These are two of my three roommates, Jasmine and Lauren.

Take touristy photo holding up the Leaning Tower of Pisa? Check.

And then I lost my balance and almost fell off.

Also, this might be one of the best people watching places in the entire world:

After catching a bus back to the train station, we took a train from Pisa to Viareggio to spend the afternoon at the beach. There are miles and miles of private beaches (you can rent chairs and umbrellas, in some places for 20 euro a piece), and six or seven yards of public beach. We discovered this by getting kicked off one of the private beaches.

The beach there is beautiful. The water looks a lot like the Atlantic, and there aren't any waves. But the mountains come right up to the town of Viareggio, so you're swimming looking at the beach and palm trees, and then the (huge) mountains and snow behind them. We were also warned to watch out for the Uhm, I don't know how you say in English..uh..medusa..uh..I don't know.. *que spirit fingers* Or, jellyfish.

And, Viareggio is super adorable:

June 28

 This is the view from our bedroom window in the apartment.

 and this.

And this is the inside.

Nah, man, I'm just kidding. But for real, this is our apartment.

Cute, huh?

:)

June 27-28

Instead of writing a post about my adventures, let me just copy the email I sent Amber earlier:

So, remember when I said your stories would be more interesting for a few days? Well, I was wrong.

My flight to London was mostly uneventful, except for I don't know what the heck I'm doing flying to a foreign country by myself. The family beside me was English, but they lived in Charlotte, and the mom was nice and talked to me. And I watched The Vow. It was okay. I got less than an hour of sleep. And when I woke up, I felt terrible. But I'm just tired, right? It'll pass, right? Just drink some orange juice, you'll feel better, Alex. Wrong. I felt worse, and then better, and then worse, and worse, and then we start to descend, and I still feel worse, break into a cold sweat, and at that point I know I'm just going to puke all over the plane. Not, oh my gosh, I feel so gross sick. Like "Ma'am, I know we're about to hit the ground in a metal bird at 300 miles an hour and all, but I'm really going to throw up, can I please go to the bathroom?", Honey, do you want a bag?, No, I'd really just like to go throw up on the floor of the air plane bathroom, sick. So I did. And then I felt great. And the old man who was reading "The God Who Changes Lives" offered me a pepto-tablet (which I declined) and the old woman behind him who offered me a bag to throw up in told me that she hoped I felt better, and the English woman beside me told me to enjoy my trip, all after I'm sure they heard me throw up ten feet in front of them. 

True story. 

So, the guys at the London security hate me. "Ma'am, are there any liquids in there? You should have taken them out. I'm going to have to rescan it. Is your computer in there? I'm going to have to rescan it. Ma'am, are there any sharp objects in here? I'm going to have to search your bag." 

Also a true story. 

London airport is huge, just in case you didn't know. When they say "North Terminal" and "South Terminal" what they really mean is "North Mall where people happen to board planes" and "South Mall where people happen to walk forever (I would know) to board planes." 

The rest wasn't exciting. Tuscany is beautiful. Just like the pictures.

Also, even English sites appear in Italian because I'm using an Italian server. So I hope this really is Blogger, and not something weird.