Rickmav – Italy Trip Report: Three Weeks in Venice, Florence, Tuscany & Umbria
Feb 27th, 2007, 06:31 PM
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Thanks everyone for your wonderful words of support. I'll post this now and, hopefully, will post the next instalment later tonight. Take care.
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Part VIII – A Fall in the Bathtub, Puffy (and Pouty) in Pienza and Bats in the Awning
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The next day, as we are getting ready to leave, I fall in the bathtub. The bath has a huge, tiled and concrete surround – I put one foot in and have one foot out, very naked of course, and the foot in the tub slips and I hurl forward. The times when you are glad you're not on a reality television show with hidden cameras tracking your every move.
I lay, straddling the concrete (can I say that on this board?) for what seems like hours but what is probably only minutes, afraid to move in case something is broken. Once I stop whimpering, I slowly stand up, expecting to see blood oozing from a multitude of wounds. Fortunately, there's no blood. But by 6 o'clock that night, my leg has swollen to twice its normal size and from my knee...upwards...I am purple, mauve, and blue. As the week progresses, the bruise turns a shade of mustardy yellow. I take a picture of it before it fades; no one at home would believe me if I told them what it looked like.
We make our last stop at the IperCoop in Montevarchi before we get on the autostrada. Since we don't know what the shopping facilities will be near Gualdo Cattaneo, we pick up additional supplies. For our dinner tonight, we buy roast chicken, potatoes and cold, grilled zucchini, eggplant and red pepper in oil. There are little bags that you can buy to keep your food cool and it works well.
On the way to our self-catering apartment in Umbria, we make a detour to visit Pienza. We weren't able to fit it in on our one day visit to southern Tuscany and as we are almost driving by it, we decide to stop and wander about. We have a tasty lunch at Latte di Luna, highly recommended on this board. It's a bit hard to find, although once we get there, we realize it is very near one of the gates and not far from the main square (along Corso Il Rossellino). I don't know if we are just lucky, but we're able to get a seat on the terrace outside, under large umbrellas, without having reservations. We are the first ones there when the restaurant opens, but it soon fills up.
A woman from Australia, sitting beside us, tells us that 'The English Patient' was filmed nearby and that Latte di Luna was the cast's favourite restaurant. I keep looking about, hoping Ralph Fiennes has returned to visit.
We are hungry, so order a plate of assorted crostini to start with. They are very good, although we aren't always sure what we're eating. I'd heard so much about the bread soup (zuppa di pane), so that's what I order, along with a mixed salad (insalata misti). Rick has the pici al ragu and lets me share some of his orange ice-cream (wow!) – semifreddo all' arancia. We also share a ½ litre of the house white. A bigger lunch – for us – but we haven't had breakfast and we don't know when we'll have dinner.
We walk off some of the lunch by wandering up and down the streets, taking more pictures as we go: 'Click' - a little dog sits on a balcony looking down at us; 'Click' - a store window is piled high with ancient cheeses; 'Click' - an elderly man with sunglasses on the end of his nose is watching a group of pretty girls. I'm beginning to think it's impossible to take a bad picture here. We buy some pecorino, the town's specialty, and a bottle of wine for later.
At this point, perhaps from walking, my leg begins to swell. It's a very strange sensation, as if the limb is encased in rising dough. It's a long walk back to the car and I'm pooped by the time we get there. Rick, bless his heart, runs across the street and manages to find me two cans of cold Pepsi; I drink from one and hold the other against my leg.
It seems as if it takes forever to get to our apartment, Le Case Gialle (www.lecasegialle.it) near Bevagna, south of Assisi and north of Spoleto. The drive gets prettier as we leave Perugia, and we are thankful that although there are hills, they are nothing compared to the Chianti mountains. We are welcomed to our cottage (La Terrazza) by Silvana Maggioni, a hyperactive, tiny, amazing woman who during the week shares stories from her remarkable life with us.
Our apartment is very nice (it costs 420 euros for the week); it's one of five on the property. The apartments are in the old barn and outbuildings that were once part of a large, olive estate. The floors are tiled, there are high, beamed ceilings and plaster walls painted an earthy-orange. We have a balcony off our bedroom that overlooks the breathtaking Umbrian countryside.
Fresh bread and the International Herald Tribune are delivered each morning and there is a TV, with CNN in English. There is also a telephone that you can use to call Silvana; her family lives at the entrance to the estate. There is a welcome pack on the table when we arrive with a small bottle of olive oil, a bottle of red Montefalco wine, some preserves, and coffee and tea. Although the website says the gas is extra, we aren't charged for what we use.
Silvana tells us that right now they are very busy pressing the olives. Their product is organic and mostly for their own use; whatever is left over they sell. (I buy two bottles to take home as gifts). Silvana tells us that because they pick a bit earlier than some other producers, their olive oil has very little acidity. I'm not much of a connoisseur, but it is delicious.
A lot of Canadians stay at Le Case Gialle, as well as Australians and Americans. The British come twice a year, according to Silvana – in June and September; other Europeans during the summer.
There is a swimming pool just below and to our left, and although we don't use it, one woman does swim every morning and evening. I'm surprised the water is still in; it is, after all, late Oct./early Nov. But there is a lot of sunshine during the day and the the pool is heated by solar panels. The apartment's negatives: there isn't a washer, dryer, microwave, oven, CD or radio.
As my leg continues to swell, and then throb, I begin to feel a bit sorry for myself. We've been away from home for seven weeks and although I would not trade our experiences for anything, I am beginning to miss some things. My computer, toilet paper that does not take off the top layer of skin, a red liquorice, CSI (Las Vegas), my family's preparations for Christmas, my own bed. I have a moan and by the next morning, I feel guilty that I could even miss anything at home when there are so many wonderful adventures still to be had here. I'm ready for Umbria.
Umbria, however, has a surprise in store for us. After breakfast, Rick goes out to reconnoitre the neighbourhood – he isn't gone more than five minutes when the door opens and he comes in, pale and obviously upset. Somewhere in the last few days, our car has been hit. Because it is navy blue and fairly dusty from all our travels, we haven't noticed it. But a short rainstorm outside Deruta has cleared off the dirt and, on the passenger side near the back wheel, there is a definite dint. We both feel sick. It could have happened at any time; for all we know it may have been there when we picked up the car (remember, we didn't inspect it when we picked it up in Florence). After a long discussion, we decide that we will not let this ruin our holiday. We have purchased the insurance; the rest is in the hands of the gods.
Still a bit shaken, however, we decide we won't go out today; we'll relax at our new digs, do some reading and hang out by the pool. Besides, my leg, which looks like a huge, mottled turnip, is throbbing again. We take our time over the newspaper - it's quite a treat to get the Herald Tribune in the morning with our still-warm bread; we realize there have been a lot of things happening in the world while we've been enjoying ourselves. The bread has a chewy crust but is nice inside. Rick has one slice with plum jam and one with locally made honey (Silvana has left us a small jar of each). I have mine with a piece of pecorino.
Time for our next adventure of the day.
As the sun comes around the corner of the building, it becomes hotter and hotter. There is a striped awning rolled flat against the building, so we decide to open it and have our lunch outside. Rick is turning the crank when I notice what I think is a large leaf stuck to the inside. I lean forward to sweep it away when Rick says, quietly but forcefully, 'Don't move'. All the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I don't even take a breath when I say, 'What is it?' Rick is very calm when he say, 'I think it's a bat'.
I would like to tell you how heroic I was and that I not only chased the bat away but also threw Rick over my shoulder and carried him off to safety. But I did no such thing. I scream like a girl, open the screen door, jump inside and run to wash my hands (I haven't even touched anything). Rick, meanwhile, swats at the poor, sleepy bat with a broom on the terrace and it flies away. By the time I tiptoe back to see what has happened, Rick is sitting under the awning, eating his lunch (we put the grilled vegetables left over from dinner on the Umbrian bread with some pecorino and make a kind of grilled sandwich).
During the day we see a flock (?) of wild turkeys, a herd (?) of sheep and what Ricks says is a donkey (believe it or not, I've never seen one in the flesh). It's very quiet; the estate is at the end of its own road, so there's no traffic going by. Once in awhile, we hear shots off in the distance, obviously there are hunters in the area. In our bedroom is a picture from the 1940s of a group of men, all with their guns. At first, I thought they are a chapter of the local Mafia, but after I hear the shots it makes much more sense that they are local sportsmen.
We sit outside until the first bat swoops by and then retreat inside. I don't know if it's the fresh air, but we are both very sleepy and climb into our crisp, white sheets - and are alseep.
Next...Part IX – Following Rick Steves in Assisi, Foraging in Foligno and Dealing Long Distance With Auto Europe.
------------------------------------
Part VIII – A Fall in the Bathtub, Puffy (and Pouty) in Pienza and Bats in the Awning
--------------------------------------
The next day, as we are getting ready to leave, I fall in the bathtub. The bath has a huge, tiled and concrete surround – I put one foot in and have one foot out, very naked of course, and the foot in the tub slips and I hurl forward. The times when you are glad you're not on a reality television show with hidden cameras tracking your every move.
I lay, straddling the concrete (can I say that on this board?) for what seems like hours but what is probably only minutes, afraid to move in case something is broken. Once I stop whimpering, I slowly stand up, expecting to see blood oozing from a multitude of wounds. Fortunately, there's no blood. But by 6 o'clock that night, my leg has swollen to twice its normal size and from my knee...upwards...I am purple, mauve, and blue. As the week progresses, the bruise turns a shade of mustardy yellow. I take a picture of it before it fades; no one at home would believe me if I told them what it looked like.
We make our last stop at the IperCoop in Montevarchi before we get on the autostrada. Since we don't know what the shopping facilities will be near Gualdo Cattaneo, we pick up additional supplies. For our dinner tonight, we buy roast chicken, potatoes and cold, grilled zucchini, eggplant and red pepper in oil. There are little bags that you can buy to keep your food cool and it works well.
On the way to our self-catering apartment in Umbria, we make a detour to visit Pienza. We weren't able to fit it in on our one day visit to southern Tuscany and as we are almost driving by it, we decide to stop and wander about. We have a tasty lunch at Latte di Luna, highly recommended on this board. It's a bit hard to find, although once we get there, we realize it is very near one of the gates and not far from the main square (along Corso Il Rossellino). I don't know if we are just lucky, but we're able to get a seat on the terrace outside, under large umbrellas, without having reservations. We are the first ones there when the restaurant opens, but it soon fills up.
A woman from Australia, sitting beside us, tells us that 'The English Patient' was filmed nearby and that Latte di Luna was the cast's favourite restaurant. I keep looking about, hoping Ralph Fiennes has returned to visit.
We are hungry, so order a plate of assorted crostini to start with. They are very good, although we aren't always sure what we're eating. I'd heard so much about the bread soup (zuppa di pane), so that's what I order, along with a mixed salad (insalata misti). Rick has the pici al ragu and lets me share some of his orange ice-cream (wow!) – semifreddo all' arancia. We also share a ½ litre of the house white. A bigger lunch – for us – but we haven't had breakfast and we don't know when we'll have dinner.
We walk off some of the lunch by wandering up and down the streets, taking more pictures as we go: 'Click' - a little dog sits on a balcony looking down at us; 'Click' - a store window is piled high with ancient cheeses; 'Click' - an elderly man with sunglasses on the end of his nose is watching a group of pretty girls. I'm beginning to think it's impossible to take a bad picture here. We buy some pecorino, the town's specialty, and a bottle of wine for later.
At this point, perhaps from walking, my leg begins to swell. It's a very strange sensation, as if the limb is encased in rising dough. It's a long walk back to the car and I'm pooped by the time we get there. Rick, bless his heart, runs across the street and manages to find me two cans of cold Pepsi; I drink from one and hold the other against my leg.
It seems as if it takes forever to get to our apartment, Le Case Gialle (www.lecasegialle.it) near Bevagna, south of Assisi and north of Spoleto. The drive gets prettier as we leave Perugia, and we are thankful that although there are hills, they are nothing compared to the Chianti mountains. We are welcomed to our cottage (La Terrazza) by Silvana Maggioni, a hyperactive, tiny, amazing woman who during the week shares stories from her remarkable life with us.
Our apartment is very nice (it costs 420 euros for the week); it's one of five on the property. The apartments are in the old barn and outbuildings that were once part of a large, olive estate. The floors are tiled, there are high, beamed ceilings and plaster walls painted an earthy-orange. We have a balcony off our bedroom that overlooks the breathtaking Umbrian countryside.
Fresh bread and the International Herald Tribune are delivered each morning and there is a TV, with CNN in English. There is also a telephone that you can use to call Silvana; her family lives at the entrance to the estate. There is a welcome pack on the table when we arrive with a small bottle of olive oil, a bottle of red Montefalco wine, some preserves, and coffee and tea. Although the website says the gas is extra, we aren't charged for what we use.
Silvana tells us that right now they are very busy pressing the olives. Their product is organic and mostly for their own use; whatever is left over they sell. (I buy two bottles to take home as gifts). Silvana tells us that because they pick a bit earlier than some other producers, their olive oil has very little acidity. I'm not much of a connoisseur, but it is delicious.
A lot of Canadians stay at Le Case Gialle, as well as Australians and Americans. The British come twice a year, according to Silvana – in June and September; other Europeans during the summer.
There is a swimming pool just below and to our left, and although we don't use it, one woman does swim every morning and evening. I'm surprised the water is still in; it is, after all, late Oct./early Nov. But there is a lot of sunshine during the day and the the pool is heated by solar panels. The apartment's negatives: there isn't a washer, dryer, microwave, oven, CD or radio.
As my leg continues to swell, and then throb, I begin to feel a bit sorry for myself. We've been away from home for seven weeks and although I would not trade our experiences for anything, I am beginning to miss some things. My computer, toilet paper that does not take off the top layer of skin, a red liquorice, CSI (Las Vegas), my family's preparations for Christmas, my own bed. I have a moan and by the next morning, I feel guilty that I could even miss anything at home when there are so many wonderful adventures still to be had here. I'm ready for Umbria.
Umbria, however, has a surprise in store for us. After breakfast, Rick goes out to reconnoitre the neighbourhood – he isn't gone more than five minutes when the door opens and he comes in, pale and obviously upset. Somewhere in the last few days, our car has been hit. Because it is navy blue and fairly dusty from all our travels, we haven't noticed it. But a short rainstorm outside Deruta has cleared off the dirt and, on the passenger side near the back wheel, there is a definite dint. We both feel sick. It could have happened at any time; for all we know it may have been there when we picked up the car (remember, we didn't inspect it when we picked it up in Florence). After a long discussion, we decide that we will not let this ruin our holiday. We have purchased the insurance; the rest is in the hands of the gods.
Still a bit shaken, however, we decide we won't go out today; we'll relax at our new digs, do some reading and hang out by the pool. Besides, my leg, which looks like a huge, mottled turnip, is throbbing again. We take our time over the newspaper - it's quite a treat to get the Herald Tribune in the morning with our still-warm bread; we realize there have been a lot of things happening in the world while we've been enjoying ourselves. The bread has a chewy crust but is nice inside. Rick has one slice with plum jam and one with locally made honey (Silvana has left us a small jar of each). I have mine with a piece of pecorino.
Time for our next adventure of the day.
As the sun comes around the corner of the building, it becomes hotter and hotter. There is a striped awning rolled flat against the building, so we decide to open it and have our lunch outside. Rick is turning the crank when I notice what I think is a large leaf stuck to the inside. I lean forward to sweep it away when Rick says, quietly but forcefully, 'Don't move'. All the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I don't even take a breath when I say, 'What is it?' Rick is very calm when he say, 'I think it's a bat'.
I would like to tell you how heroic I was and that I not only chased the bat away but also threw Rick over my shoulder and carried him off to safety. But I did no such thing. I scream like a girl, open the screen door, jump inside and run to wash my hands (I haven't even touched anything). Rick, meanwhile, swats at the poor, sleepy bat with a broom on the terrace and it flies away. By the time I tiptoe back to see what has happened, Rick is sitting under the awning, eating his lunch (we put the grilled vegetables left over from dinner on the Umbrian bread with some pecorino and make a kind of grilled sandwich).
During the day we see a flock (?) of wild turkeys, a herd (?) of sheep and what Ricks says is a donkey (believe it or not, I've never seen one in the flesh). It's very quiet; the estate is at the end of its own road, so there's no traffic going by. Once in awhile, we hear shots off in the distance, obviously there are hunters in the area. In our bedroom is a picture from the 1940s of a group of men, all with their guns. At first, I thought they are a chapter of the local Mafia, but after I hear the shots it makes much more sense that they are local sportsmen.
We sit outside until the first bat swoops by and then retreat inside. I don't know if it's the fresh air, but we are both very sleepy and climb into our crisp, white sheets - and are alseep.
Next...Part IX – Following Rick Steves in Assisi, Foraging in Foligno and Dealing Long Distance With Auto Europe.
Feb 28th, 2007, 04:53 PM
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rickmav - Oh dear what bad luck with your fall and then the ding in your car. No wonder you missed a few things from home.
On the bright side what a lovely place you have chosen to be for the week. Love that you post the web site so we can actually see where you stayed. What did you do about your laundry with no machine? Could you wash a few things out by hand and put outside to dry? Your meals sound so lovely.
Sandy
On the bright side what a lovely place you have chosen to be for the week. Love that you post the web site so we can actually see where you stayed. What did you do about your laundry with no machine? Could you wash a few things out by hand and put outside to dry? Your meals sound so lovely.
Sandy
Feb 28th, 2007, 08:32 PM
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Every day I jump on the computer to search for your next installment. We can't travel for a while (no money for a while as our lovely daughter is getting married) Can you keep travelling so I can at least imagine myself there? I love your writing ndthe affectionate way you speak about your husband Rick, you make a lovely couple (even though I've never met you, there goes my imagination again).
are a lovely couple.
are a lovely couple.
Mar 1st, 2007, 08:12 AM
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luvtotravel, ComfyShoes, tune, Suja - Thanks for your kinds words. (And I agree Venice at night is remarkable!)
owlwoman - You will love Umbria, and I think the best way to see it is by having your own base. Thanks for your supportive words.
SandyBrit - Haven't found a house yet. My husband has decided he doesn't want to retire yet and a company has offered him a lucrative contract in northern Alberta. We will be based in Calgary which is experiencing a 'boom' right now, and I hate looking at houses - unless of course they are in England or Italy! And yes, we did wash everything by hand and dry it outside. According to Maurio, one of our landlords, that's what the Umbrian sun is for.
babycakes - Part VIII is now posted - I know it's taking me awhile to get each new instalment done. Thanks for sticking to me.
SRS - Yes, it's amazing what we can do when we are truly terrified.
toni - Now, you've made me feel guilty that I'm not posting instalments as quickly as I'd like to! I'll try and do better. I know what it is to yearn to travel and not be able to, it makes it so much sweeter when you can actually pack your suitcase and go. And thank you for your kinds words about Rick. I got a good 'un.
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Part IX – Following Rick Steves in Assisi, Foraging in Foligno and Dealing Long Distance With Auto Europe.
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The first decision we make when we arrive at Assisi the next morning is whether to park at the top and walk down - then back up; or park at the bottom and walk up - then down. Either way, it's a lot of walking.
We decide to follow Rick Steves's advice and park at the underground garage at the top of the hill (it costs 4.20 euros for four hours). Then we use his self-guided walk (from his book on Italy), walking down towards the Basilica of St. Francis.
The views from the top are outstanding. It's a lovely day, hot in the sun but with a cool breeze. Although there are a lot of people about there are quiet corners and most of the churches we see on the way to the Basilica are empty. For some reason this morning, I keep thinking about one of the recurring themes on this board - what Americans can do to not look like tourists, should it matter, does everyone look like a tourist, etc. Either Americans have figured out how to keep a low profile, or there aren't that many holidaying in Italy at this time of year. Most of the tourists we bump into in Assisi are from other parts of Italy, or Japanese.
There is quite a bit of construction going on in the streets, which means some interesting manoeuvring on temporary walkways. I get a great picture of a monk, tonsured and robed, peering down into the uncovered Assisi street.
Our first stop on Steves's walking tour is the Church of San Rufino, built in the 12th c. Both St. Francis and St. Clare were baptized here, although 12 years apart. From the outside, it looks like a square block of concrete with a triangle on top. There are some pretty, rosette-style decorations near the peak that add a bit of whimsy, but it is not what I would call a 'beautiful' church. Inside, there are these eerie, green-tinted glass panels in the floor where you can see the foundations of the 9th c. church. After the earthquake in 1997, engineers even discovered Roman foundations.
Next, we visit the Basilica of Santa Chiara (Clare). Before we left on our holiday, I read a book by Adrian House called, 'Francis of Assisi: A Revolutionary Life' and was really taken with the description of Francis's and Clare's relationship. After she met Francis and spent time listening to his message she cut her hair, put on a simple, brown tunic and spent the rest of her life barefoot and in poverty. She created the Order of the Poor Clares and there is a convent attached to the church that still operates today.
I like the Basilica of Santa Chiara a lot. It is serene. It has lovely, stained glass windows, and bits of amazing frescoes, recently uncovered, on the walls. It must have been a very intimate and feminine space when it was originally built, with the walls covered in these muted and ethereal pieces of art. (Unbelievably, the walls were whitewashed in the 1700s, covering all the frescoes!)
In the Chapel of the Crucifix, off to one side, is the wooden cross that 'spoke' to Francis, telling him what he should do with his life. St. Clare's tomb is downstairs, and you can see her robes, hair and a tunic she made for Francis. Rick goes to have a look, I sit in the quiet and think about this amazing woman.
We make our way to the main square in Assisi, the Piazza del Commune. One of the first things that catches our eyes is the Temple of Minerva, this very ancient, Roman building in the middle of all this Catholic finery. The Temple was built in the 1st c. and is over 2000 years old. A pagan cult worshipped here for a long time and, inside, you can see the drains on either side of the altar where the blood emptied after the sacrifices. Yikes! Eventually, the Temple was abandoned; in the 9th c. it became a Catholic church, 'Santa Maria Sopra Minerva'.
There are lovely views from one part of the Piazza and in the distance you can see the blue-domed church, St. Mary of the Angels (Santa Maria degli Angeli), where St. Francis lived and worked. According to Steves, the church is still a popular pilgrimage site; when we go to visit later in the week the park in front is full of teenagers, many of them 'with limbs entwined'. Well, St. Francis did preach love.
Our next stop is the Church of Santa Stefano. It is surrounded by cypress, fig and walnut trees and is very plain and small. According to Steves, it is a typical example of a rural Italian church. I have to say that we are not people who normally visit churches as tourist sites, but in Italy, they are all so different from each other and capture something distinctive about Italian history. You really feel that artisans, workers, worshippers – all put their mark upon their individual churches and by sitting still and breathing in their stories, your emotional attachment to this wonderful country is strengthened.
Steves considers our next stop, the Basilica of St. Francis, one of the artistic and religious highlights of Europe. It is huge and it is amazing. And it is covered with the most incredible frescoes. It would be fascinating to know what St. Francis would make of it. We aren't Catholics but I've always been intrigued by St. Francis and St. Clare. It seems to me that in their own ways they were as much revolutionaries as Jesus was. It seems strange that such a simple-living man as St. Francis would have such an amazing church built in his name. But I'm glad it's there for us to appreciate.
Before we go into the Basilica, we notice these arches forming an arcade, off to the side, that don't really look as if they have a function. But, in fact, they are little cells where visiting pilgrims over the centuries would sleep. Having slept in over 12 different beds on this trip so far, I can't imagine having to try and get comfortable on a stone floor. I guess I have nothing to complain about.
Although the earthquake in 1997 didn't damage the lower basilica, which has 9 ft. thick walls, the upper basilica, which has more windows, was badly damaged. It took two years to repair. There is a weird, sad story about two monks and two historians who were examining the destruction and who were killed from debris when an aftershock hit.
The frescoes in the Upper Basilica shattered, during the earthquake, into over 300,000 pieces. They were all collected and put back together. Talk about dedication. I love the ceilings in the Basilica, such a beautiful blue with these shimmering, gold stars. Uplifting, simple and hypnotizing all at the same time.
St. Francis's remains are buried here and I hope this doesn't offend anyone, but it seems strange to me to stand in line to look at someone's bones. But Rick, curious about everything, goes. Apparently, after the bones were moved here, they were hidden. Over the next 600 years, the exact location was forgotten. When the decision was made to open the tomb in the 1800s, it took a month to find them. Can you imagine some of the memos that flew back and forth?
I do wander about the Relic Chapel where you can see some things that belonged to St. Francis – the tunic he wore, full of holes and patched, or the rules he drew up for the Franciscans. Or the slippers he wore just before he died. I didn't know that St. Francis was only 5'4" or that he was the person who 'invented' the manger scene in the story of the birth of Jesus.
Before we leave the Basilica, we buy a bracelet and prayer in the gift store for our granddaughter. The Franciscan monk who helps us is very sweet.
We have lunch at a place called Cantine di Oddo, just up from the Basilica. I have tagliatelle with meat sauce, Rick Umbrian sausage with roasted potatoes. Yum. We share a mixed salad and with water and pop, it's 24 euros. Expensive – for us – for lunch but we are hungry and the food is good. I'm sure if we'd wandered into some of the side streets, we could have got a better deal.
Although Rick Steves says that there are two minibuses that connect the top and bottom of Assisi through the Piazza del Commune, we never see them, although we do run across the bus stop. This means hiking all the way back to the top. But we take our time and stop to appreciate a lovely view or an interesting group of people. We feel quite righteous as we drive home. Not only have we seen some beautiful churches and said a few prayers for those at home, but we've also had some great exercise.
On the way home, we stop at Foligno to pick up some groceries. Silvana has told us that there is a Coop in the town and we try to follow her directions and end up seeing a lot of Foligno. Not really that impressed, but perhaps we haven't given it a fair try. Finally, we give up and, of course, that's when we find it. It's actually right off the road on our way back to our apartment. We're hoping that the Coop will have a deli like the one in Montevarchi, with homemade meals, but, unfortunately, they don't. But we do buy a small, whole roasted chicken. The smell as they are cooking in the store is out of this world.
We decide the next morning that we will laze about and take care of some administrative stuff (yes, it follows you wherever you go). We've decided to return to Florence at the end of our holiday and will put off seeing Rome for our next trip. This means we have to change the drop off for our rental car, returning it to the dreaded garage in Florence instead of dropping it off at the train station in Orvieto. First, I talk to Hertz, using their 1-800 number but don't get very far. They are quite laissez-faire about it all and tell me to drop the car wherever we want, whenever we want - the drop-off office will figure it all out on the computer when we get there. Having already had our experiences with Hertz in Italy, I am not comfortable with this 'plan'. So, I decide to try Auto Europe's 1-800 number and actually end up talking to someone in Portland, Maine.
The staff are very helpful, particularly when I explain my reluctance to 'just showing up' at the Hertz office in Florence. I keep thinking about the garage dictators who made our life such a misery at the beginning of the trip – and, as it turns out, my fears are grounded. But I am getting ahead of myself.
Auto Europe agrees to send a fax to Florence, explaining that we will be showing up with a vehicle that should really be in Orvieto. I decide not to mention the 'dint'. Rick and I have talked about it and we both feel that it's possible that the mark was there when we picked up the car. It just doesn't look like a new accident. I also confirm our two nights at Relais Cavalcanti in Florence and, as always, Francesca is so helpful.
Rick makes a wonderful dinner – he boils, and then fries some plump, Italian sausages we bought in Foligno in Silvana's olive oil. They are heavenly. We have them with scrambled eggs with provolone and toasted Umbrian bread.
Although the day is very warm, after the sun drops behind the nearest mountain, it begins to cool off and Silvana comes to turn on our heat. She stays to chat and speaks very good English, although blushes and protests when I compliment her on her language skills.
She tells us the most amazing story. Three years ago, she and her husband Maurio adopted two children from Ethiopia, a boy about four and a girl about 9. The girl saw both parents killed and cared for her brother (at 9!) until they were able to get to the orphanage. The amount of paperwork that Silvana and Maurio had to go through was incredible and she doesn't think much of Madonna being able to 'buy' (her words) a child (this story is currently in the news). It took Silvana and her husband three years to be able to bring her son and daughter to Italy, although the were allowed to visit them in Ethiopia. We have seen the boy riding his bike up and down the road behind our apartment and he is very friendly and sweet. We meet his sister later in the week and she is very beautiful and like her mom, blushes when I try and tell her that in Italian.
Today is Halloween and I can tell Rick is a bit homesick. It's his favourite time of the year and he always dresses up to hand out the candies. I offer to let him borrow some of my clothes to put on and I'll knock on the door and pretend to be trick or treating, but it obviously isn't tempting enough. So we play cards ('Vino') and drink wine (vino) and talk about our spiritual beliefs. We have both been moved by what we saw in Assisi. Which is the greatest part of travel for me, taking in what you have seen and experienced and using it to re-evaluate your life and beliefs.
Next...Part X – A Pumpkin in Bevagna, the Quest for a Quarter-Pounder and an Attempted Bank Heist in Orvieto
owlwoman - You will love Umbria, and I think the best way to see it is by having your own base. Thanks for your supportive words.
SandyBrit - Haven't found a house yet. My husband has decided he doesn't want to retire yet and a company has offered him a lucrative contract in northern Alberta. We will be based in Calgary which is experiencing a 'boom' right now, and I hate looking at houses - unless of course they are in England or Italy! And yes, we did wash everything by hand and dry it outside. According to Maurio, one of our landlords, that's what the Umbrian sun is for.
babycakes - Part VIII is now posted - I know it's taking me awhile to get each new instalment done. Thanks for sticking to me.
SRS - Yes, it's amazing what we can do when we are truly terrified.
toni - Now, you've made me feel guilty that I'm not posting instalments as quickly as I'd like to! I'll try and do better. I know what it is to yearn to travel and not be able to, it makes it so much sweeter when you can actually pack your suitcase and go. And thank you for your kinds words about Rick. I got a good 'un.
-----------------------------------
Part IX – Following Rick Steves in Assisi, Foraging in Foligno and Dealing Long Distance With Auto Europe.
---------------------------------------
The first decision we make when we arrive at Assisi the next morning is whether to park at the top and walk down - then back up; or park at the bottom and walk up - then down. Either way, it's a lot of walking.
We decide to follow Rick Steves's advice and park at the underground garage at the top of the hill (it costs 4.20 euros for four hours). Then we use his self-guided walk (from his book on Italy), walking down towards the Basilica of St. Francis.
The views from the top are outstanding. It's a lovely day, hot in the sun but with a cool breeze. Although there are a lot of people about there are quiet corners and most of the churches we see on the way to the Basilica are empty. For some reason this morning, I keep thinking about one of the recurring themes on this board - what Americans can do to not look like tourists, should it matter, does everyone look like a tourist, etc. Either Americans have figured out how to keep a low profile, or there aren't that many holidaying in Italy at this time of year. Most of the tourists we bump into in Assisi are from other parts of Italy, or Japanese.
There is quite a bit of construction going on in the streets, which means some interesting manoeuvring on temporary walkways. I get a great picture of a monk, tonsured and robed, peering down into the uncovered Assisi street.
Our first stop on Steves's walking tour is the Church of San Rufino, built in the 12th c. Both St. Francis and St. Clare were baptized here, although 12 years apart. From the outside, it looks like a square block of concrete with a triangle on top. There are some pretty, rosette-style decorations near the peak that add a bit of whimsy, but it is not what I would call a 'beautiful' church. Inside, there are these eerie, green-tinted glass panels in the floor where you can see the foundations of the 9th c. church. After the earthquake in 1997, engineers even discovered Roman foundations.
Next, we visit the Basilica of Santa Chiara (Clare). Before we left on our holiday, I read a book by Adrian House called, 'Francis of Assisi: A Revolutionary Life' and was really taken with the description of Francis's and Clare's relationship. After she met Francis and spent time listening to his message she cut her hair, put on a simple, brown tunic and spent the rest of her life barefoot and in poverty. She created the Order of the Poor Clares and there is a convent attached to the church that still operates today.
I like the Basilica of Santa Chiara a lot. It is serene. It has lovely, stained glass windows, and bits of amazing frescoes, recently uncovered, on the walls. It must have been a very intimate and feminine space when it was originally built, with the walls covered in these muted and ethereal pieces of art. (Unbelievably, the walls were whitewashed in the 1700s, covering all the frescoes!)
In the Chapel of the Crucifix, off to one side, is the wooden cross that 'spoke' to Francis, telling him what he should do with his life. St. Clare's tomb is downstairs, and you can see her robes, hair and a tunic she made for Francis. Rick goes to have a look, I sit in the quiet and think about this amazing woman.
We make our way to the main square in Assisi, the Piazza del Commune. One of the first things that catches our eyes is the Temple of Minerva, this very ancient, Roman building in the middle of all this Catholic finery. The Temple was built in the 1st c. and is over 2000 years old. A pagan cult worshipped here for a long time and, inside, you can see the drains on either side of the altar where the blood emptied after the sacrifices. Yikes! Eventually, the Temple was abandoned; in the 9th c. it became a Catholic church, 'Santa Maria Sopra Minerva'.
There are lovely views from one part of the Piazza and in the distance you can see the blue-domed church, St. Mary of the Angels (Santa Maria degli Angeli), where St. Francis lived and worked. According to Steves, the church is still a popular pilgrimage site; when we go to visit later in the week the park in front is full of teenagers, many of them 'with limbs entwined'. Well, St. Francis did preach love.
Our next stop is the Church of Santa Stefano. It is surrounded by cypress, fig and walnut trees and is very plain and small. According to Steves, it is a typical example of a rural Italian church. I have to say that we are not people who normally visit churches as tourist sites, but in Italy, they are all so different from each other and capture something distinctive about Italian history. You really feel that artisans, workers, worshippers – all put their mark upon their individual churches and by sitting still and breathing in their stories, your emotional attachment to this wonderful country is strengthened.
Steves considers our next stop, the Basilica of St. Francis, one of the artistic and religious highlights of Europe. It is huge and it is amazing. And it is covered with the most incredible frescoes. It would be fascinating to know what St. Francis would make of it. We aren't Catholics but I've always been intrigued by St. Francis and St. Clare. It seems to me that in their own ways they were as much revolutionaries as Jesus was. It seems strange that such a simple-living man as St. Francis would have such an amazing church built in his name. But I'm glad it's there for us to appreciate.
Before we go into the Basilica, we notice these arches forming an arcade, off to the side, that don't really look as if they have a function. But, in fact, they are little cells where visiting pilgrims over the centuries would sleep. Having slept in over 12 different beds on this trip so far, I can't imagine having to try and get comfortable on a stone floor. I guess I have nothing to complain about.
Although the earthquake in 1997 didn't damage the lower basilica, which has 9 ft. thick walls, the upper basilica, which has more windows, was badly damaged. It took two years to repair. There is a weird, sad story about two monks and two historians who were examining the destruction and who were killed from debris when an aftershock hit.
The frescoes in the Upper Basilica shattered, during the earthquake, into over 300,000 pieces. They were all collected and put back together. Talk about dedication. I love the ceilings in the Basilica, such a beautiful blue with these shimmering, gold stars. Uplifting, simple and hypnotizing all at the same time.
St. Francis's remains are buried here and I hope this doesn't offend anyone, but it seems strange to me to stand in line to look at someone's bones. But Rick, curious about everything, goes. Apparently, after the bones were moved here, they were hidden. Over the next 600 years, the exact location was forgotten. When the decision was made to open the tomb in the 1800s, it took a month to find them. Can you imagine some of the memos that flew back and forth?
I do wander about the Relic Chapel where you can see some things that belonged to St. Francis – the tunic he wore, full of holes and patched, or the rules he drew up for the Franciscans. Or the slippers he wore just before he died. I didn't know that St. Francis was only 5'4" or that he was the person who 'invented' the manger scene in the story of the birth of Jesus.
Before we leave the Basilica, we buy a bracelet and prayer in the gift store for our granddaughter. The Franciscan monk who helps us is very sweet.
We have lunch at a place called Cantine di Oddo, just up from the Basilica. I have tagliatelle with meat sauce, Rick Umbrian sausage with roasted potatoes. Yum. We share a mixed salad and with water and pop, it's 24 euros. Expensive – for us – for lunch but we are hungry and the food is good. I'm sure if we'd wandered into some of the side streets, we could have got a better deal.
Although Rick Steves says that there are two minibuses that connect the top and bottom of Assisi through the Piazza del Commune, we never see them, although we do run across the bus stop. This means hiking all the way back to the top. But we take our time and stop to appreciate a lovely view or an interesting group of people. We feel quite righteous as we drive home. Not only have we seen some beautiful churches and said a few prayers for those at home, but we've also had some great exercise.
On the way home, we stop at Foligno to pick up some groceries. Silvana has told us that there is a Coop in the town and we try to follow her directions and end up seeing a lot of Foligno. Not really that impressed, but perhaps we haven't given it a fair try. Finally, we give up and, of course, that's when we find it. It's actually right off the road on our way back to our apartment. We're hoping that the Coop will have a deli like the one in Montevarchi, with homemade meals, but, unfortunately, they don't. But we do buy a small, whole roasted chicken. The smell as they are cooking in the store is out of this world.
We decide the next morning that we will laze about and take care of some administrative stuff (yes, it follows you wherever you go). We've decided to return to Florence at the end of our holiday and will put off seeing Rome for our next trip. This means we have to change the drop off for our rental car, returning it to the dreaded garage in Florence instead of dropping it off at the train station in Orvieto. First, I talk to Hertz, using their 1-800 number but don't get very far. They are quite laissez-faire about it all and tell me to drop the car wherever we want, whenever we want - the drop-off office will figure it all out on the computer when we get there. Having already had our experiences with Hertz in Italy, I am not comfortable with this 'plan'. So, I decide to try Auto Europe's 1-800 number and actually end up talking to someone in Portland, Maine.
The staff are very helpful, particularly when I explain my reluctance to 'just showing up' at the Hertz office in Florence. I keep thinking about the garage dictators who made our life such a misery at the beginning of the trip – and, as it turns out, my fears are grounded. But I am getting ahead of myself.
Auto Europe agrees to send a fax to Florence, explaining that we will be showing up with a vehicle that should really be in Orvieto. I decide not to mention the 'dint'. Rick and I have talked about it and we both feel that it's possible that the mark was there when we picked up the car. It just doesn't look like a new accident. I also confirm our two nights at Relais Cavalcanti in Florence and, as always, Francesca is so helpful.
Rick makes a wonderful dinner – he boils, and then fries some plump, Italian sausages we bought in Foligno in Silvana's olive oil. They are heavenly. We have them with scrambled eggs with provolone and toasted Umbrian bread.
Although the day is very warm, after the sun drops behind the nearest mountain, it begins to cool off and Silvana comes to turn on our heat. She stays to chat and speaks very good English, although blushes and protests when I compliment her on her language skills.
She tells us the most amazing story. Three years ago, she and her husband Maurio adopted two children from Ethiopia, a boy about four and a girl about 9. The girl saw both parents killed and cared for her brother (at 9!) until they were able to get to the orphanage. The amount of paperwork that Silvana and Maurio had to go through was incredible and she doesn't think much of Madonna being able to 'buy' (her words) a child (this story is currently in the news). It took Silvana and her husband three years to be able to bring her son and daughter to Italy, although the were allowed to visit them in Ethiopia. We have seen the boy riding his bike up and down the road behind our apartment and he is very friendly and sweet. We meet his sister later in the week and she is very beautiful and like her mom, blushes when I try and tell her that in Italian.
Today is Halloween and I can tell Rick is a bit homesick. It's his favourite time of the year and he always dresses up to hand out the candies. I offer to let him borrow some of my clothes to put on and I'll knock on the door and pretend to be trick or treating, but it obviously isn't tempting enough. So we play cards ('Vino') and drink wine (vino) and talk about our spiritual beliefs. We have both been moved by what we saw in Assisi. Which is the greatest part of travel for me, taking in what you have seen and experienced and using it to re-evaluate your life and beliefs.
Next...Part X – A Pumpkin in Bevagna, the Quest for a Quarter-Pounder and an Attempted Bank Heist in Orvieto
Mar 1st, 2007, 08:35 AM
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Loving your report!
I completely fell in love with Assisi when I went in 2005. The town and the Basilica are forever in my heart.
I did visit the tomb of St. Francis, and had the most amazing experience - though it was unexpected to say the least!.
I can't wait to go back someday.
Thanks for posting!
I completely fell in love with Assisi when I went in 2005. The town and the Basilica are forever in my heart.
I did visit the tomb of St. Francis, and had the most amazing experience - though it was unexpected to say the least!.
I can't wait to go back someday.
Thanks for posting!
Mar 1st, 2007, 04:19 PM
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rickman - You are so kind and answer every little question that I and others ask.
Good for Rick receiving such a good job offer. He cooks too! What a great team you are. Best wishes that you find a nice house to make into a home.
Please post the next installment at your convenience. You have been so faithful with keeping up. You have quite a few fans on this board.
Sandy
Good for Rick receiving such a good job offer. He cooks too! What a great team you are. Best wishes that you find a nice house to make into a home.
Please post the next installment at your convenience. You have been so faithful with keeping up. You have quite a few fans on this board.
Sandy
Mar 1st, 2007, 07:39 PM
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Hello rickmavy, I just enjoyed reading about your time and experiences in Assisi and as in the past I am enthralled with your trip report, the actual facts of your trip plus your sharing of your thoughts and your life. You and your husband in my opinion are very special people. And how I wish I had the ability to share and describe a trip as you do.
Mar 2nd, 2007, 06:13 AM
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Rickmav -
Your trip report is beautiful --- one of the best I have read. This October, we are going to be in Italy and are going to see Venice, Rome, Florence, and spend a few days in Tuscany --- we only have two weeks --- but are so excited about our trip! It is wonderful to hear about your good time in those cities.
Your trip report is beautiful --- one of the best I have read. This October, we are going to be in Italy and are going to see Venice, Rome, Florence, and spend a few days in Tuscany --- we only have two weeks --- but are so excited about our trip! It is wonderful to hear about your good time in those cities.
Mar 2nd, 2007, 06:27 AM
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Halloween and no costumes so you offer your husband your clothes and it isn't tempting enough!!!???
ROTFLMAO
When this trip report is finished please continue writing a report of your everyday life. You'll have plenty of devoted fans reading every word.
I'm also interested in your house search as we're looking into a relocation to Calgary at the moment (DH has a job offer). I can't start house hunting yet as we need to make sure we can get working visas first.
ROTFLMAO
When this trip report is finished please continue writing a report of your everyday life. You'll have plenty of devoted fans reading every word.
I'm also interested in your house search as we're looking into a relocation to Calgary at the moment (DH has a job offer). I can't start house hunting yet as we need to make sure we can get working visas first.
Mar 2nd, 2007, 03:23 PM
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Finally got to sit down and read more, and still totally enjoying this. It flows so nicely, rickmav.
The biggest surprise, however,was reading along and finding out where you stayed in Umbria!
I spent a week with some great friends at Le Case Gialle for my birthday in late May of 2005. I had read about LCG on the Slow Travel site & then got some excellent information here as well.
I've been raving about it on this site ever since! You would think I worked for Mauro and Silvana.
The couple traveling with us stayed in your cute apt, the other 3 of us were downstairs from you under the portico (il Portico) with a long outdoor table where we ate several al fresco meals.
While we were there, thousands of flickering fireflies were in the olive groves, and the moon was full. Magical. We often heard interesting calls, sounds and songs from the birds and wildlife on the wooded hill across from the groves(below the view of Montefalco). Were you awakened early early early by those crazy cuckoos?
The children were sweeties -- the first day the little girl led me by the hand and showed me all the blooming herbs in the garden (which we were welcome to pick & use, of course). Silvana showed us how to dip the fresh sage leaves in Prosecco & a little flour and then flash fry them in olive oil. Delicious!
We also found Foligno to be an odd place, and for some reason, each time any of use went there, we managed to get lost on the circle road around town. But we loved Bevagna; bought wonderful fresh pasta & pastries there, and had a memorable meal at Osteria Podesta.
You described Sant' Antimo so eloquently! We drove there on a long daytrip from LCG, and then on to Montalcino & Siena. Back to Umbria under that amazing moon.
Did you get to do any walks or hikes around Le Case Gialle? Did you think Gualdo Catteneo seemed spooky and haunted? Can't wait to hear what else you did in Umbria, you are bringing back sweet memories.
I'll have to tell my friends about the bat!
Happily waiting for the next installment...
The biggest surprise, however,was reading along and finding out where you stayed in Umbria!
I spent a week with some great friends at Le Case Gialle for my birthday in late May of 2005. I had read about LCG on the Slow Travel site & then got some excellent information here as well.
I've been raving about it on this site ever since! You would think I worked for Mauro and Silvana.
The couple traveling with us stayed in your cute apt, the other 3 of us were downstairs from you under the portico (il Portico) with a long outdoor table where we ate several al fresco meals.
While we were there, thousands of flickering fireflies were in the olive groves, and the moon was full. Magical. We often heard interesting calls, sounds and songs from the birds and wildlife on the wooded hill across from the groves(below the view of Montefalco). Were you awakened early early early by those crazy cuckoos?
The children were sweeties -- the first day the little girl led me by the hand and showed me all the blooming herbs in the garden (which we were welcome to pick & use, of course). Silvana showed us how to dip the fresh sage leaves in Prosecco & a little flour and then flash fry them in olive oil. Delicious!
We also found Foligno to be an odd place, and for some reason, each time any of use went there, we managed to get lost on the circle road around town. But we loved Bevagna; bought wonderful fresh pasta & pastries there, and had a memorable meal at Osteria Podesta.
You described Sant' Antimo so eloquently! We drove there on a long daytrip from LCG, and then on to Montalcino & Siena. Back to Umbria under that amazing moon.
Did you get to do any walks or hikes around Le Case Gialle? Did you think Gualdo Catteneo seemed spooky and haunted? Can't wait to hear what else you did in Umbria, you are bringing back sweet memories.
I'll have to tell my friends about the bat!
Happily waiting for the next installment...
Mar 2nd, 2007, 07:40 PM
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Rickmav- wonderful report, as usual. Remembering my trip as a young 20 yr old to Assisi, and how moved I was by the town- feeling the spirit of Francis and Clare prevaling. Hope to return this fall- hoping, hoping...
Mar 3rd, 2007, 06:07 AM
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Thank you so much for taking the time to write such a wonderful report. I am traveling to Italy for the first time this summer with my wonderful husband of two years, and we are anticipating being moved and inspired by it's beauty in the ways you have described! I also appreciate your sharing little tidbits about your marriage - its so nice to hear that after 30 years, it can still be fresh and beautiful and there can be plenty to talk about! In a world where my young friends have already begun divorcing and getting "fed up" with their husbands and marriage, its inspiring to hear words from the other end of the spectrum!
Looking forward to more...
(and I agree that you should write a book - if not about Italy, then about anything! You have a real gift for evoking images and explaining intangible emotions.)
Grazie!
Looking forward to more...
(and I agree that you should write a book - if not about Italy, then about anything! You have a real gift for evoking images and explaining intangible emotions.)
Grazie!
Mar 3rd, 2007, 02:48 PM
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Hello everyone. Away to Calgary again house hunting, just arrived home to read your warm and encouraging posts. Will hopefully post something later tonight or tomorrow morning.
camelbak - I see from your e-mail you are from Canada - what part? Perhaps, I should have visited St. Francis's tomb; Rick also felt something strange and wonderful there. He said he had the strangest feeling his dad, who passed away 10 years ago, was standing just behind him. He couldn't stop talking about it for the rest of the day - and was very comforted by it.
SandyBrit - Thanks for your support. We are still looking for our new home, but are getting close. It will be weird to be apart from Rick - he works 4 days out, 3 days in - when we have been spending so much time together, but it is another kind of adventure.
LoveItaly - Your words are so encouraging. I don't know that Rick and I are that special; we have been very lucky. In our careers, love, family and friendships.
akila - Thank you. Have a wonderful trip this October and remember to let us all know about your adventures when you return. You have probably found this board very helpful in planning your trip, I know we would have had a very different holiday if we hadn't had this resource.
highflyer - "Halloween and no costumes so you offer your husband your clothes and it isn't tempting enough!!!???" - I know, he can be a real partypooper sometimes. I told Rick about your suggestion that I keep writing about our life and he looked a bit worried - as if he thought I might actually do it. Thanks for boosting my self confidence about my writing skills, it just shows that if you have the right material to work with - anything is possible. Isn't that strange that you are thinking of relocating to Calgary? We have narrowed our search to a condo in Calgary, or one in Okotoks, which is about a 20 minute drive away. With Rick gone part of the week, it seemed to make sense to look at condos. The prices are pretty frightening, but it depends on what part of the world you are coming from. Good luck. Maybe, one day we can have a glass of Rick's home-made wine on our deck and talk about travelling!
annabelle2 - Thanks for your comments. You are, in fact, the reason we went to Le Case Gialle. I printed off your report, then highlighted all the wonderful information. Oooh we didn't see the fireflies but did hear the cuckoos, although I had no idea until now what they were. We also loved Bevagna - it's in my next report and also bought wonderful fresh pasta & pastries there. Rick explored all around the place, I'm the reader-type, but I did get a great picture of Gualdo Cattaneo with the moon showing late in the afternoon sky. It is very creepy! When we walked about it was virtually deserted, kind of had a spaghetti-western kind of feeling to it.
ssvw27 - I'll cross my fingers that you get to Assisi this fall. It continues to have a profound affect on both of us.
bunnymonk - You're welcome. And I hope you have such a wonderful time in Italy. I have been with Rick more than half my life, that seems so weird to say but I can't even imagine how different it would have been without him. He makes me laugh every day (sometimes, at him, which annoys him). We've worked very hard to be married this long; I had a boss who gave me some advice just after I got married. She said you must work at your marriage every day. You must say to yourself, 'What can I do today to make my marriage better?'. She was way ahead of Dr. Phil. And I've tried, not always successfully, to follow her advice.
camelbak - I see from your e-mail you are from Canada - what part? Perhaps, I should have visited St. Francis's tomb; Rick also felt something strange and wonderful there. He said he had the strangest feeling his dad, who passed away 10 years ago, was standing just behind him. He couldn't stop talking about it for the rest of the day - and was very comforted by it.
SandyBrit - Thanks for your support. We are still looking for our new home, but are getting close. It will be weird to be apart from Rick - he works 4 days out, 3 days in - when we have been spending so much time together, but it is another kind of adventure.
LoveItaly - Your words are so encouraging. I don't know that Rick and I are that special; we have been very lucky. In our careers, love, family and friendships.
akila - Thank you. Have a wonderful trip this October and remember to let us all know about your adventures when you return. You have probably found this board very helpful in planning your trip, I know we would have had a very different holiday if we hadn't had this resource.
highflyer - "Halloween and no costumes so you offer your husband your clothes and it isn't tempting enough!!!???" - I know, he can be a real partypooper sometimes. I told Rick about your suggestion that I keep writing about our life and he looked a bit worried - as if he thought I might actually do it. Thanks for boosting my self confidence about my writing skills, it just shows that if you have the right material to work with - anything is possible. Isn't that strange that you are thinking of relocating to Calgary? We have narrowed our search to a condo in Calgary, or one in Okotoks, which is about a 20 minute drive away. With Rick gone part of the week, it seemed to make sense to look at condos. The prices are pretty frightening, but it depends on what part of the world you are coming from. Good luck. Maybe, one day we can have a glass of Rick's home-made wine on our deck and talk about travelling!
annabelle2 - Thanks for your comments. You are, in fact, the reason we went to Le Case Gialle. I printed off your report, then highlighted all the wonderful information. Oooh we didn't see the fireflies but did hear the cuckoos, although I had no idea until now what they were. We also loved Bevagna - it's in my next report and also bought wonderful fresh pasta & pastries there. Rick explored all around the place, I'm the reader-type, but I did get a great picture of Gualdo Cattaneo with the moon showing late in the afternoon sky. It is very creepy! When we walked about it was virtually deserted, kind of had a spaghetti-western kind of feeling to it.
ssvw27 - I'll cross my fingers that you get to Assisi this fall. It continues to have a profound affect on both of us.
bunnymonk - You're welcome. And I hope you have such a wonderful time in Italy. I have been with Rick more than half my life, that seems so weird to say but I can't even imagine how different it would have been without him. He makes me laugh every day (sometimes, at him, which annoys him). We've worked very hard to be married this long; I had a boss who gave me some advice just after I got married. She said you must work at your marriage every day. You must say to yourself, 'What can I do today to make my marriage better?'. She was way ahead of Dr. Phil. And I've tried, not always successfully, to follow her advice.
Mar 5th, 2007, 09:52 AM
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Part X – Halloween in Bevagna, the Quest for a Quarter-Pounder and an Attempted Bank Heist in Orvieto
We wake up to a cold, grey day – it's November 1, after all. It can get quite chilly in these stone houses when the temperature drops. We really have been lucky on our trip, weather-wise, both in England and in Italy so can't complain. But I think if I were planning Italy again – and we all know I have to at some point – I would come a couple of weeks earlier.
Silvana, our landlady, drops by to check on the heat and she tells us that they do not have gas heat in their home – they burn wood. She also said that it was against the law, in this part of Italy, to have your thermostat set higher than 18 degrees. Perhaps, I misunderstood her, but that seems extraordinarily mean – particularly to someone from Canada.
I try to do the crossword in the International Herald Tribune as I'm eating my breakfast. I'm very pleased that I can do about two-thirds of it. Rick and I have started discussing the stories in the newspaper after we've both read it – you get creative when you're spending 24 hours a day with each other! An interesting article about Canada today – apparently we sell more products than we buy, our inflation rate is almost the lowest of all developed countries, but we have a fairly high unemployment rate (6.4%) and a moderate growth rate (1.2% - China has 10+%). Wonder how that all fits together.
As it warms up, we decide to explore Bevagna, a walled town quite near to us. We thought it might be deserted because of the holiday – Nov. 1 (All Saint's Day) – but it is just the opposite. Everyone seems to be gathered in the main square, Piazza Silvestri – boys are setting off small firecrackers, the men are standing about in groups or sitting outside the bar/cafes, the women are admiring babies, laughing at the men or going in and out of the two Romanesque churches (S. Michele and S. Silvestro). We feel a bit conspicuous but I say to Rick – 'We are tourists, why try and pretend we aren't. And we'd be looking at them if the tables we're turned'. So we smile, nod, and just enjoy ourselves.
As we cross the bridge and enter Bevagna through Via Porta Molini, we notice a house beneath us that has a Giant Pumpkin outside its door. We'd forgotten to ask Silvana whether her kids 'celebrate' Halloween, and assumed that it was just a wacky, North American invention. If we'd known that we could have seen some ghouls and goblins wandering the atmospheric, medieval streets of Bevagna we would have come in last night.
We are feeling a bit peckish but don't want something big to eat because Rick is going to make my famous spaghetti sauce tonight. (I can only make three dishes well – a spaghetti sauce that I also use for lasagne, chicken and dumplings, and coq au vin. That's it for my gourmet repertoire.) There's a pizzeria along Corso Giacomo Matteotti that has lovely looking slices on offer, but we've had a lot of that, too. We're after something different.
A little further on we see, in a pasticceria window, a display with a pumpkin and Halloween ghosts and witches and a dazzling array of cookies. Because it looks so dark inside, we assume it's closed so we only press out noses against the door and salivate. Suddenly, someone says 'scuzi' and opens the door. We go in and it's heavenly. Pasticceria Polticchia is an Aladdin's Cave of gastronomic delights. Finally, we choose cookies shaped like a 'U' with each end covered in chocolate - they taste like a dense shortbread. And pistacchio squares that are scrumptious. We sit on the church steps, people watching, and eat our treasures.
But as delicious as this diversion is, we are still hungry for something....something really different. I don't know which one of us thinks of it first, but Rick says it almost at the same time that I do – what we really want is a Quarter Pounder. I know it's shameful, decadent, pointless, wretched, etc., but we can't help it. After almost two months from home, what we crave is a McDonald's meal.
We both remember, when we were leaving Assisi yesterday, seeing a sign advertising McDonald's, although we don't remember where it was located. Using my finely honed navigating logic and McDonald's savvy, I convince Rick that a fast food joint would probably be located along the SS75, the major highway going past Assisi towards Perugia. So we head on out in our Quest for a Quarter-Pounder.
Let me say that we should get an award from McDonald's HQ for being one of their most persistent customers. The fast-food haven is not, as I predicted, along the SS75, but rather near the Basilica of Santa Maria degli Angeli, located beneath Assisi. After a terrifying ride down a one-way street, accosting a nun for directions and eventually following a group of limb-linked teenagers to the fount of all that is greasy, we get our Quarter Pounder fix.
Afterwards we feel, as all junkies do, guilty. Here we are in one of the most incredible gastronomic spots in the world, and we spend our day chasing down a hamburger. Rick says to me, as we drive away, "You'll never be able to talk about this on Fodor's." Well, they say confession cleanses the soul.
On the way home, we stop at Bevagna again and buy some fresh pasta at La Casareccia, which we'd seen on our earlier visit. The choices are incredible and there are so many other things to buy, but we finally decide on a ciriole pasta, which is thick and velvety.
Dinner that night is stupendous. We finish our meal with a bottle of Sagrantino wine given to us by Silvana. We take a walk down by the pool and gaze out over the Umbrian countryside. Lights twinkle in the valley and on the hilltops, and from somewhere below us there are sounds of visitors wishing their hosts good night, car doors slam, there's a child's sleepy cry, the sudden sound of a car horn as it's leaned on by mistake. Then another round of goodbyes and some laughter. We really don't understand the words, but the rhythm of the ritual is familiar. An amazing day – a Giant Pumpkin, a Quarter Pounder and Ricky's Splendiferous Spaghetti Sauce.
The next morning we go to Orvieto. It's a brisk, autumn day with clear skies, a cool breeze and the leaves seem to be changing colour as we drive by. It takes us about an hour to get to Orvieto from Le Case Gialle.
The drive is very pretty; it reminds us of a route we take at home from Sparwood to Cranbrook, in British Columbia.
As you start to climb towards Orvieto, the SS48 winds through these wonderful mountain passes with tunnels and then you come to this huge lake and dam – Lake Corbara – that reminds us of a place at home called Lake Koocanusa that straddles the Canadian/U.S. border. Lake Corbara is an artificial lake created after the construction of a water-power plant, but it is surrouned by thick woods and green fields and there are stunning views everywhere we look. The lake and its surroundings are part of the Parco Fluviale del Tevere. It's strange to see this very Canadian-looking landscape with Umbrian villages hanging off the edges of the hilltops.
When we get to Orvieto, we have a choice, according to Rick Steves, to either park at the bottom and take a funicular (the Funicolare Bracci) or drive to the top. We decide to head for the top and although the road is very windey, there are magnificent views at every turn. We park across from the funicular entrance in Piazza Cahen, which is also where the local buses stop (the funicular runs are suppose to coincide with minibuses – Line A & B – that go to and from the old town centre). We decide to walk, but stop first at the Fortezza di Albornoz, where there is a lovely, public garden and a washroom that is, at that moment, a godsend. There are also beautiful views from a lookout that seems to hang over the valley.
On our way to the Duomo, we come across the Banca di Roma and decide to try to cash a traveller's cheque. We'd been warned on Fodors that it is a waste of time but want to see for ourselves. The bank entrance is very intimidating, you have to press a button, and when they buzz you in, you enter this little capsule thing. Once in the capsule, you have to buzz again and they let you into the bank. Being a tad claustrophobic there is no way I am entering the bank-pod. I watch Rick through the windows and as the minutes stretch into an hour, I can see that he is becoming more and more upset. My husband is probably the calmest person I know, but I can tell by his body language, the hands in the air, the number of people gathered around the teller serving him – that things are not going well.
At one point, he turns around and looks at me, rolls his eyes and throws up his hands. I figure I'm going to have to do a one-person commando raid on the bank to get him out. I am just starting to figure out how to cripple the bank-pod when Rick emerges. He never did cash the traveller's cheque and we've wasted an hour of our life. The bank wanted to charge 10 euros for every transaction, and would only cash one check per transaction. Since our traveller's cheques were in 50 euro denominations, we would be paying $15 Cdn. to get $75. Seems outrageous to us. So, we just go to a bank machine down the street and get our cash.
We find La Grotta Trattoria, on via Luca Signorelli, a restaurant recommended on this board and on slowtrav. The place is empty, and we aren't sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing, but the smells coming from the doorway are so good, we decide to go in. Ten minutes later, you can hardly move – every seat is taken! About 2/3 of the people are Italian, the rest Americans, Brits and, of course, Canadians. I decide today that I'm not going to use any English in restaurants and it is a lot of fun. The Italians are so nice if you try to speak Italian. We each have the tagliatelle amatriciana, share a mixed salad and a bottle of water and it costs 28 euros. We rarely order wine with our meals in Italy, which is such a shame, but we don't want to take the risk of drinking and driving. And I don't want to drink, if Rick can't. Of course, we certainly make up for it when we get home! Two thumbs up for La Grotta Trattoria.
Coming upon the Duomo in Orvieto is another jaw-dropping moment in Italy. With its incredible mosaics, many of which are the exact shade of the blue sky above, it is spectacular. As we walk closer and look at it head-on, it almost seems like it is a storefront cathedral – as if it doesn't have anything behind it. It's only from the side that we get a sense of dimension.
The Duomo is closed until 2:30 pm, so we sit on the steps and people-watch. Rick dashes back to the car to get our coats, the wind has come up, and it's often cold inside the churches. A small, green garbage bag is caught in the currents that swirl around the Duomo and all of us sitting on the church steps are watching it. It goes straight up in the air, then comes crashing down, skitters along the steps, aiming – kamikaze-style – at people, swooshing in between couples, teasing small children. Soon everyone is either giggling or laughing. Kids are trying to chase it, adults trying to avoid it – in a strange way it brings this disparate group of people sitting on the Duomo steps together.
Inside, the Duomo is also impressive. The stonework is in a black and white vertical stripe pattern that reminds me of prison uniforms. It seems as if they are setting up for a television production inside, there are road-crew kind of guys setting up lights, cables and instruments – even a large set of drums! It's somewhat surprising finding such an impressive church in such a small town, but apparently, it's because of the blood-stained cloth kept in a silver-gilt reliquary in the 'Chapel of the Corporal', a little mini-church to the left of the main altar.
The story goes that in 1263 a puzzled priest named Peter of Prague (try saying that very quickly), stopped at a nearby church, on his way to Rome, and expressed some doubts about the bread used in Communion really being transformed into the body of Christ. During Mass, as he held the host high, the bread began to bleed, running down his arms and onto a linen cloth, a 'corporal' on the altar. The cloth was brought to Orvieto where Pope Urban was holidaying and the amazed Pope immediately proclaimed a new holiday – Corpus Christi (Body of Christ). The Orvieto Cathedral was built to display the relic.
After exploring the Duomo, we slowly make our way back to the car, enjoying the wares displayed in all the shops, and the people in the streets. On our way out, we buy some Orvieto wine (white) for me and some Umbrian wine (red) for Rick.
When we get home, we watch CNN, as we do every night, to catch up on what has been happening in the world. It is so depressing. I am struggling with how to reconcile the tensions in the world and the beauty that we've seen on this trip. We've been a part of so much that is meaningful, eternal, inspired and transcendent. We've eaten things that are fresh and delicate, robust and smooth. We've experienced a slice of Eden, driven on mountain tops, got lost in grape-scented valleys. We've connected with people from a different culture and found them to be decent, fun-loving, gentle and exuberant. And yet this has all been experienced against a background of war, senseless killing, intolerance and stupidity. It's hard to grasp and make sense of it all.
To get me out of my 'mood' Rick starts to flick the channels on the TV. After the first day, when we discovered everything was in Italian, we haven't bothered to look at any of the other channels. Suddenly, we see Silvana's husband, Maurio, being interviewed by a fellow with a microphone, standing at the edge of his olive estate. Maurio is the president of the local wine and olive growers association (La Strada del Agrantino). He rather reminds me of Oliver Reed in Gladiator, complete with big, fat cigar and beard. I understand a few words here and there and try to translate for Rick. It's fun to actually 'watch' Italian television.
Rick flips to the next channel and it's an Italian game show. We watch it for a few seconds trying to figure out what is going on and all of a sudden, Rick says, "It's Deal or No Deal." And that's exactly what it is. The Italian version. We really aren't great fans of the show but have occasionally watched fellow-Canadian Howie Mandel and so understand the premise. We also watched a few times in England.
It's hilarious to see the different ways different cultures approach the same game. In the U.S. version, Howie is friendly and a bit flashy, with beautiful women opening the suitcases. And he is bald. In England, Noel Edmonds is the host and he is reserved, slow-moving, and measured in his approach to the contestants. The boxes, not suitcases, are held by everyday people who themselves may be contestants. Noel's hair looks as he could stand in gale force winds and not a lock would be out of place.
In Italy, the host is Flavio Insinna and he is a maniac. He never stops talking, runs from contestant to audience, peeks in the boxes, moans, cries, and by the end of the hour is dripping, visibly, with sweat. Each contestant represents one of the twenty regions of Italy and, like England, those holding the boxes are regular people. Family and friends are brought out on stage, and even the family dog. (The show is called 'Affari Tuoi' in case you are in Italy and want to watch it.) Flavio has a thick head of lustrous dark hair and constantly runs his hands through it.
Later on, when we mention to Silvana that we watched 'Deal or No Deal', I think she is disappointed in us. She raves on for about 10 minutes about how stupid the show is. We don't say anything, just smile and nod – another guilty pleasure we must keep secret.
We only have four nights left in Italy. It's hard to believe that it will soon be over. We came here believing that it would be our only visit and now we know that however we can manage it, we have to return.
Next...Part XI - The Balcony of Umbria, It's a Small, Small World and Taking on the Garage Dictators in Florence
We wake up to a cold, grey day – it's November 1, after all. It can get quite chilly in these stone houses when the temperature drops. We really have been lucky on our trip, weather-wise, both in England and in Italy so can't complain. But I think if I were planning Italy again – and we all know I have to at some point – I would come a couple of weeks earlier.
Silvana, our landlady, drops by to check on the heat and she tells us that they do not have gas heat in their home – they burn wood. She also said that it was against the law, in this part of Italy, to have your thermostat set higher than 18 degrees. Perhaps, I misunderstood her, but that seems extraordinarily mean – particularly to someone from Canada.
I try to do the crossword in the International Herald Tribune as I'm eating my breakfast. I'm very pleased that I can do about two-thirds of it. Rick and I have started discussing the stories in the newspaper after we've both read it – you get creative when you're spending 24 hours a day with each other! An interesting article about Canada today – apparently we sell more products than we buy, our inflation rate is almost the lowest of all developed countries, but we have a fairly high unemployment rate (6.4%) and a moderate growth rate (1.2% - China has 10+%). Wonder how that all fits together.
As it warms up, we decide to explore Bevagna, a walled town quite near to us. We thought it might be deserted because of the holiday – Nov. 1 (All Saint's Day) – but it is just the opposite. Everyone seems to be gathered in the main square, Piazza Silvestri – boys are setting off small firecrackers, the men are standing about in groups or sitting outside the bar/cafes, the women are admiring babies, laughing at the men or going in and out of the two Romanesque churches (S. Michele and S. Silvestro). We feel a bit conspicuous but I say to Rick – 'We are tourists, why try and pretend we aren't. And we'd be looking at them if the tables we're turned'. So we smile, nod, and just enjoy ourselves.
As we cross the bridge and enter Bevagna through Via Porta Molini, we notice a house beneath us that has a Giant Pumpkin outside its door. We'd forgotten to ask Silvana whether her kids 'celebrate' Halloween, and assumed that it was just a wacky, North American invention. If we'd known that we could have seen some ghouls and goblins wandering the atmospheric, medieval streets of Bevagna we would have come in last night.
We are feeling a bit peckish but don't want something big to eat because Rick is going to make my famous spaghetti sauce tonight. (I can only make three dishes well – a spaghetti sauce that I also use for lasagne, chicken and dumplings, and coq au vin. That's it for my gourmet repertoire.) There's a pizzeria along Corso Giacomo Matteotti that has lovely looking slices on offer, but we've had a lot of that, too. We're after something different.
A little further on we see, in a pasticceria window, a display with a pumpkin and Halloween ghosts and witches and a dazzling array of cookies. Because it looks so dark inside, we assume it's closed so we only press out noses against the door and salivate. Suddenly, someone says 'scuzi' and opens the door. We go in and it's heavenly. Pasticceria Polticchia is an Aladdin's Cave of gastronomic delights. Finally, we choose cookies shaped like a 'U' with each end covered in chocolate - they taste like a dense shortbread. And pistacchio squares that are scrumptious. We sit on the church steps, people watching, and eat our treasures.
But as delicious as this diversion is, we are still hungry for something....something really different. I don't know which one of us thinks of it first, but Rick says it almost at the same time that I do – what we really want is a Quarter Pounder. I know it's shameful, decadent, pointless, wretched, etc., but we can't help it. After almost two months from home, what we crave is a McDonald's meal.
We both remember, when we were leaving Assisi yesterday, seeing a sign advertising McDonald's, although we don't remember where it was located. Using my finely honed navigating logic and McDonald's savvy, I convince Rick that a fast food joint would probably be located along the SS75, the major highway going past Assisi towards Perugia. So we head on out in our Quest for a Quarter-Pounder.
Let me say that we should get an award from McDonald's HQ for being one of their most persistent customers. The fast-food haven is not, as I predicted, along the SS75, but rather near the Basilica of Santa Maria degli Angeli, located beneath Assisi. After a terrifying ride down a one-way street, accosting a nun for directions and eventually following a group of limb-linked teenagers to the fount of all that is greasy, we get our Quarter Pounder fix.
Afterwards we feel, as all junkies do, guilty. Here we are in one of the most incredible gastronomic spots in the world, and we spend our day chasing down a hamburger. Rick says to me, as we drive away, "You'll never be able to talk about this on Fodor's." Well, they say confession cleanses the soul.
On the way home, we stop at Bevagna again and buy some fresh pasta at La Casareccia, which we'd seen on our earlier visit. The choices are incredible and there are so many other things to buy, but we finally decide on a ciriole pasta, which is thick and velvety.
Dinner that night is stupendous. We finish our meal with a bottle of Sagrantino wine given to us by Silvana. We take a walk down by the pool and gaze out over the Umbrian countryside. Lights twinkle in the valley and on the hilltops, and from somewhere below us there are sounds of visitors wishing their hosts good night, car doors slam, there's a child's sleepy cry, the sudden sound of a car horn as it's leaned on by mistake. Then another round of goodbyes and some laughter. We really don't understand the words, but the rhythm of the ritual is familiar. An amazing day – a Giant Pumpkin, a Quarter Pounder and Ricky's Splendiferous Spaghetti Sauce.
The next morning we go to Orvieto. It's a brisk, autumn day with clear skies, a cool breeze and the leaves seem to be changing colour as we drive by. It takes us about an hour to get to Orvieto from Le Case Gialle.
The drive is very pretty; it reminds us of a route we take at home from Sparwood to Cranbrook, in British Columbia.
As you start to climb towards Orvieto, the SS48 winds through these wonderful mountain passes with tunnels and then you come to this huge lake and dam – Lake Corbara – that reminds us of a place at home called Lake Koocanusa that straddles the Canadian/U.S. border. Lake Corbara is an artificial lake created after the construction of a water-power plant, but it is surrouned by thick woods and green fields and there are stunning views everywhere we look. The lake and its surroundings are part of the Parco Fluviale del Tevere. It's strange to see this very Canadian-looking landscape with Umbrian villages hanging off the edges of the hilltops.
When we get to Orvieto, we have a choice, according to Rick Steves, to either park at the bottom and take a funicular (the Funicolare Bracci) or drive to the top. We decide to head for the top and although the road is very windey, there are magnificent views at every turn. We park across from the funicular entrance in Piazza Cahen, which is also where the local buses stop (the funicular runs are suppose to coincide with minibuses – Line A & B – that go to and from the old town centre). We decide to walk, but stop first at the Fortezza di Albornoz, where there is a lovely, public garden and a washroom that is, at that moment, a godsend. There are also beautiful views from a lookout that seems to hang over the valley.
On our way to the Duomo, we come across the Banca di Roma and decide to try to cash a traveller's cheque. We'd been warned on Fodors that it is a waste of time but want to see for ourselves. The bank entrance is very intimidating, you have to press a button, and when they buzz you in, you enter this little capsule thing. Once in the capsule, you have to buzz again and they let you into the bank. Being a tad claustrophobic there is no way I am entering the bank-pod. I watch Rick through the windows and as the minutes stretch into an hour, I can see that he is becoming more and more upset. My husband is probably the calmest person I know, but I can tell by his body language, the hands in the air, the number of people gathered around the teller serving him – that things are not going well.
At one point, he turns around and looks at me, rolls his eyes and throws up his hands. I figure I'm going to have to do a one-person commando raid on the bank to get him out. I am just starting to figure out how to cripple the bank-pod when Rick emerges. He never did cash the traveller's cheque and we've wasted an hour of our life. The bank wanted to charge 10 euros for every transaction, and would only cash one check per transaction. Since our traveller's cheques were in 50 euro denominations, we would be paying $15 Cdn. to get $75. Seems outrageous to us. So, we just go to a bank machine down the street and get our cash.
We find La Grotta Trattoria, on via Luca Signorelli, a restaurant recommended on this board and on slowtrav. The place is empty, and we aren't sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing, but the smells coming from the doorway are so good, we decide to go in. Ten minutes later, you can hardly move – every seat is taken! About 2/3 of the people are Italian, the rest Americans, Brits and, of course, Canadians. I decide today that I'm not going to use any English in restaurants and it is a lot of fun. The Italians are so nice if you try to speak Italian. We each have the tagliatelle amatriciana, share a mixed salad and a bottle of water and it costs 28 euros. We rarely order wine with our meals in Italy, which is such a shame, but we don't want to take the risk of drinking and driving. And I don't want to drink, if Rick can't. Of course, we certainly make up for it when we get home! Two thumbs up for La Grotta Trattoria.
Coming upon the Duomo in Orvieto is another jaw-dropping moment in Italy. With its incredible mosaics, many of which are the exact shade of the blue sky above, it is spectacular. As we walk closer and look at it head-on, it almost seems like it is a storefront cathedral – as if it doesn't have anything behind it. It's only from the side that we get a sense of dimension.
The Duomo is closed until 2:30 pm, so we sit on the steps and people-watch. Rick dashes back to the car to get our coats, the wind has come up, and it's often cold inside the churches. A small, green garbage bag is caught in the currents that swirl around the Duomo and all of us sitting on the church steps are watching it. It goes straight up in the air, then comes crashing down, skitters along the steps, aiming – kamikaze-style – at people, swooshing in between couples, teasing small children. Soon everyone is either giggling or laughing. Kids are trying to chase it, adults trying to avoid it – in a strange way it brings this disparate group of people sitting on the Duomo steps together.
Inside, the Duomo is also impressive. The stonework is in a black and white vertical stripe pattern that reminds me of prison uniforms. It seems as if they are setting up for a television production inside, there are road-crew kind of guys setting up lights, cables and instruments – even a large set of drums! It's somewhat surprising finding such an impressive church in such a small town, but apparently, it's because of the blood-stained cloth kept in a silver-gilt reliquary in the 'Chapel of the Corporal', a little mini-church to the left of the main altar.
The story goes that in 1263 a puzzled priest named Peter of Prague (try saying that very quickly), stopped at a nearby church, on his way to Rome, and expressed some doubts about the bread used in Communion really being transformed into the body of Christ. During Mass, as he held the host high, the bread began to bleed, running down his arms and onto a linen cloth, a 'corporal' on the altar. The cloth was brought to Orvieto where Pope Urban was holidaying and the amazed Pope immediately proclaimed a new holiday – Corpus Christi (Body of Christ). The Orvieto Cathedral was built to display the relic.
After exploring the Duomo, we slowly make our way back to the car, enjoying the wares displayed in all the shops, and the people in the streets. On our way out, we buy some Orvieto wine (white) for me and some Umbrian wine (red) for Rick.
When we get home, we watch CNN, as we do every night, to catch up on what has been happening in the world. It is so depressing. I am struggling with how to reconcile the tensions in the world and the beauty that we've seen on this trip. We've been a part of so much that is meaningful, eternal, inspired and transcendent. We've eaten things that are fresh and delicate, robust and smooth. We've experienced a slice of Eden, driven on mountain tops, got lost in grape-scented valleys. We've connected with people from a different culture and found them to be decent, fun-loving, gentle and exuberant. And yet this has all been experienced against a background of war, senseless killing, intolerance and stupidity. It's hard to grasp and make sense of it all.
To get me out of my 'mood' Rick starts to flick the channels on the TV. After the first day, when we discovered everything was in Italian, we haven't bothered to look at any of the other channels. Suddenly, we see Silvana's husband, Maurio, being interviewed by a fellow with a microphone, standing at the edge of his olive estate. Maurio is the president of the local wine and olive growers association (La Strada del Agrantino). He rather reminds me of Oliver Reed in Gladiator, complete with big, fat cigar and beard. I understand a few words here and there and try to translate for Rick. It's fun to actually 'watch' Italian television.
Rick flips to the next channel and it's an Italian game show. We watch it for a few seconds trying to figure out what is going on and all of a sudden, Rick says, "It's Deal or No Deal." And that's exactly what it is. The Italian version. We really aren't great fans of the show but have occasionally watched fellow-Canadian Howie Mandel and so understand the premise. We also watched a few times in England.
It's hilarious to see the different ways different cultures approach the same game. In the U.S. version, Howie is friendly and a bit flashy, with beautiful women opening the suitcases. And he is bald. In England, Noel Edmonds is the host and he is reserved, slow-moving, and measured in his approach to the contestants. The boxes, not suitcases, are held by everyday people who themselves may be contestants. Noel's hair looks as he could stand in gale force winds and not a lock would be out of place.
In Italy, the host is Flavio Insinna and he is a maniac. He never stops talking, runs from contestant to audience, peeks in the boxes, moans, cries, and by the end of the hour is dripping, visibly, with sweat. Each contestant represents one of the twenty regions of Italy and, like England, those holding the boxes are regular people. Family and friends are brought out on stage, and even the family dog. (The show is called 'Affari Tuoi' in case you are in Italy and want to watch it.) Flavio has a thick head of lustrous dark hair and constantly runs his hands through it.
Later on, when we mention to Silvana that we watched 'Deal or No Deal', I think she is disappointed in us. She raves on for about 10 minutes about how stupid the show is. We don't say anything, just smile and nod – another guilty pleasure we must keep secret.
We only have four nights left in Italy. It's hard to believe that it will soon be over. We came here believing that it would be our only visit and now we know that however we can manage it, we have to return.
Next...Part XI - The Balcony of Umbria, It's a Small, Small World and Taking on the Garage Dictators in Florence
