The Pisa Surprise

While in the town of Pisa, Italy, on New Year's evening, I decided to take a stroll through the Old Town district. I headed down the main tourist street, which basically stretches from the town's famous tower down to the train station, less than a mile from end-to-end.

A surprisingly large number of tourists were out that evening. Few stores and shops were open, but the night sky was clear and the weather crisp and cold, perfect for a short walk.

After about half a mile, I reached the Arno river, which cuts through the middle of town. I didn't pay much attention to it. I had seen it earlier, during daylight hours, and it had not impressed me. It struck me as an unpleasant gray-brown, muddy, slow-moving river, really not much of an eye-catcher.

So I crossed over the main bridge (the Ponte di Mezzo) connecting the two sides of town. In only a few minutes, I had reached the train station. I turned around to head back to my hotel, but I figured I might as well take a different street just to see a bit more. So I cut across town about three blocks and then headed back up toward the river. I was soon there, and without seeing anything remarkable.

To get back to the Ponte di Mezzo, I turned right and walked along the sidewalk parallel to the river. Right before I reached the bridge, I came across a young fellow who had a camera set up on a tripod. He appeared to know what he was doing, probably a professional.

I glanced up in the direction of his camera lens. But the chilly night air quickly swept across my exposed neck, so I didn't turn my head and eyes all the was up to the sky. Cold weather is something I like to keep on the outside of my clothes, and if I had turned my head up any higher, I would have felt the chilly night air rushing down along inside my coat along my chest.

What I saw was nice but not spectacular. The photographer was apparently taking snapshots of a small church bell tower. The tower was lit up, providing a soft, light rosy – though largely uncompelling – sight. The church itself was a small square structure connected directly to the other buildings along the city block. Just a bit of concrete and a bell tower, I thought.

I continued to the bridge and crossed back over. Because the night cold was now letting itself really be felt, I decided to take a short cut back to my hotel. This involved turning back down the other side of the river, which again took me parallel to the church and bell tower, just in the opposite direction.

After a few steps, I glanced down across the river, merely because it was there.

At that instant, the night suddenly turned richer.

The brownish, creeping river of day now appeared dark black and glassy under the night sky.
It had turned into a giant mirror. And there stretched across it's surface was a beautiful configuration in the form of a giant isosceles triangle. I had completely missed it on other side of the river when I had momentarily wondered what the photographer had in his lens.

The most distant point in the triangle was occupied by the mirror image of light-rosy bell tower. But then the true, greater surprise began. About a quarter of the way across the river surface toward me stood the middle point defining the vertex of the triangle: a single and very bright night star. And then another one-fourth of the way across the river in my direction, the crystal clear image of a brilliant white crescent moon made up the final point of the giant triangle.

Now that I am back from my trip, that is the one image that keeps coming back to me. Not only had Pisa shared with me one of the Europe's architectural wonders – it had also granted me one equally spectacular sight not mentioned in any of my travel books.