Florence & Pisa: Missed Stops, Magical Pizza & a Day of Surprises

Day 1
Arrival — Missed Stops & a Bologna Detour

Our journey to Florence began with a 6:15 AM bus from Naples. We were expecting a smooth ride and a scenic morning nap, but little did we know, the day had other plans.

As the bus rolled through the Italian countryside, we dozed off, occasionally waking to admire the views. And then, at 12:15, the bus stopped at Firenze Villa Costanza. We saw the name but convinced ourselves it couldn’t be Florence. Google Maps told us our stop was still an hour away, and as seasoned GPS-trusting travelers, we stayed seated. Harshit even asked a passenger about Florence, and that’s when reality hit: We’d missed our stop. Not just the stop. The entire city.

The next halt? Bologna. Another region. Another state. Another two hours of wondering how exactly we graduated from “almost there” to “absolutely somewhere else.”

So we sat back, mentally recalibrating. In transit, we searched options. Thankfully, Bologna’s bus station was next to a train station, so getting back to Florence wouldn’t be impossible. But as soon as we stepped off the bus, fate smiled: a Flixbus heading back to Florence was waiting. The driver charged us €40 (no ticket, no drama) and let us hop in.

Inside the bus, Harshit chatted with an Indian man from North India who shared stories of how people enter Italy illegally and survive here. Even on accidental detours, you meet people whose stories stretch your worldview. By 3 p.m., we finally reached Florence – two cities later, a few euros poorer, and definitely richer in ridiculous memories.

Our apartment host was an elderly Italian gentleman who didn’t speak a word of English. But thanks to gestures and the universal language of tired travellers seeking a warm bed, we made it work. With barely time to breathe, we rushed to catch our pre-booked train to Pisa at 4 PM.

We landed in Florence not for Florence—but for Pisa. That was always the plan: click some iconic photos, absorb a few scenic moments, and then head back to base.

By 4 p.m., we boarded our pre-booked train to Pisa—a beautiful 1.5-hour ride winding through Tuscan fields and quiet hills. Europe knows how to paint the earth green. On the train, we met a mother-daughter duo who’d visited India and instantly connected over shared laughter. They gave us tips on chocolates and cafés—tiny kindnesses that feel big when you’re far from home.

And then Pisa happened.

It reminded me of Pune, but a quieter, cleaner version of it. Framed by mountains, low on traffic, full of wide streets and uninterrupted sky. No dense buildings. Just earth, air, and old stone.

From the station, we hopped on a bus and rushed toward the icon itself—the Leaning Tower of Pisa. At first glance, it peeked shyly from behind the Pisa Cathedral, shorter than we’d imagined. Not towering like the Eiffel that dominates every frame of Paris. It was humbler. Quieter. But stunning in its own way.

So we did what every tourist does. Photos. All kinds. All angles. All weird poses. Laughing, adjusting, pretending to hold it, push it, kiss it. The usual madness.

Day 2
Pisa & the Leaning Tower — A Quick History Tilt

The Leaning Tower is actually a bell tower, standing beside the Pisa Cathedral and Baptistery in the historic Piazza dei Miracoli (Square of Miracles).

Here’s the cool part:

• Height: 55.86 meters on the low side, and 56.67 meters on the high—yes, that’s how tilted it is.
• Started leaning during construction in the 12th century, because of soft ground.
• The tilt worsened and reached 5.5° by 1990, but was reduced to 3.97° after stabilization efforts between 1993–2001.
• Galileo Galilei, who lived in Pisa, famously used the tower to drop two cannonballs of different masses to demonstrate the law of free fall.

Imagine that—a quirky architectural mishap turned into a physics experiment that changed science forever. And now it’s become a playground for thousands of photo poses.

But the drama wasn’t over.

After Pisa, we boarded the train back to Florence—souvenirs in hand, smiles intact—and just when we thought the day was winding down, it gave us one last twist. At a station en route, we witnessed something straight out of an Indian street scene: two men in full-blown physical combat, yelling, fists flying, and the police stepping in to break it up. One man was injured. The train was delayed. Drama, Italian edition.

To make things spicier, we then got off at the wrong Florence station, and had to hop the next train to the right one. Plans? Florence and Pisa didn’t care much for those. But in the end, it all lined up beautifully.

Because then came Gustapizza.

We walked to the famed spot with tired legs and eager stomachs, joined the crowd waiting outside, and spent nearly two hours in line. And every second was worth it. That pizza? Divine. A burst of basil, cheese, tomato—and the revelation that olive oil is the Italian magic wand. We drizzled. We savored. We were healed.

After dinner, we treated ourselves to gelato from Venchi, and what a dream that was – cold, creamy, and a little sinful. We even bought chocolates for our office folks… and later devoured them ourselves (zero regrets). The weekend vibe in Florence felt like a perfect soundtrack. Streets filled just enough to feel alive, but never overwhelming. Music in the air. Laughter spilling from cafés. It had the kind of balance that cities rarely pull off.

And then came the final logistical twist—Villa Costanza. Turns out there are two: one in the city and one way outside. Our bus from Naples had arrived at the wrong one, and our early morning bus to Venice was scheduled from the same distant spot.

But Harshit, being Harshit, figured out that a nearby Flixbus stop might get us there. At 4 a.m., we walked through quiet Florence, explained our saga to the driver, and they let us hop on without charge, saving us time and money. By 5 a.m., we reached the correct Villa Costanza and boarded the bus to Venice.

Florence wasn’t part of our original dream itinerary. But now? I’m hooked. After Paris, it’s Florence I want to return to most. Tuscany—your tomatoes, spices, pasta, herbs, and olive oil are what dreams taste like.

This wasn’t a perfect day. But it was a perfect Italian memory. One that started with mishaps and ended with pizza, gelato, and a city that quietly stole my heart.