Leaving Home

As I sit here, early on the last Saturday of our stay in Assisi, I listen to the sounds that have become so familiar to me, from the street, inside the apartment.  I look out the little window in the kitchen and see framed, a square of darkness that reminds me that the sun has not yet risen and I want to reach outside and stop it from coming up over the top of the mountain so that the day will not start and therefore, its end will come later than it will eventually.

Before coming back to Italy this year, I thought about leaving Italy.  I envisioned the day that we would be driving down the hill for the last time, looking at Assisi in a rear-view mirror and feeling like we were leaving home, sadly.  I've done this heart-wrenching routine before.  I know how it's going to play out.  But, for the past four lovely weeks, this, I put out of my mind and allowed myself to absolutely, positively, enjoy each and every minute of the time spent here, up the stairs, at the charming apartment at 16 Via Porta Perlici.

Oh sure, there were "moments".  What good, long trip to a country, still after all these times, a foreign one to us, doesn't have those?  But, never was there an argument and rarely did we leave each other's side for more than a few moments.  We spent our hours together because we wanted to, for the simple reason that everything that we saw or did was that much better because we were together.  Fifty years of married life and we still totally enjoy the company of each other, for good or for bad.

Technology has added more than one dimension to our travel life. We have been in touch with friends and family all along the way and a few have told us that they can't wait until we get back so that we can recount stories, show pictures, and "tell us all about it".  We know that after five minutes, they all will feel that we've said enough and we know that in a life-time, we could not quantify our experiences to the point where anyone, other than us, would get it.

Who would want to hear about our early morning coffee and our simple housekeeping - sorting our recyclables and listening to the clanging of the endless collections of empty bottles in the back of tiny municipal trash collection trucks? How fascinating could our life without a washing machine be? Trips to the supermarket without a car, wine in backpacks, why, our stories would be the life of the party that abruptly ended were we to go on about such things.  Our charming apartment stories would bore anyone who has not spent time in a charming apartment on a tiny cobblestoned street, in a tiny walled hill town in Italy.  Trust me.

And trust became a major thread.  "Trust me Joe....I know a shortcut.....trust me, I know these people....trust me, you can do it!"  "Trust me, Lynn, I am loving every minute and every detail and trust me Lynn, the car will not fit in that space!"  and "Trust me, Lynn, I am going to miss all of this...."

So, today is the last of our full days. Today will be spent, hopefully in sunshine.  Today, we will finish our packing and we will get out and about for one last time in Assisi.  We will say our goodbyes, but not our farewells to our neighborhood friends and to Saint Francis, our dearest friend who apparently slept everywhere.  We will have our last slice of the best pizza in existence and maybe even see our last Assisi sunset for a while before a special wine with Nina Halum at her beautiful "Bibenda". We will stop in to hug and kiss our good friend, Pietro at "B.A.T.Assisi", his beautiful shop. We'll thank him for his hospitality and assure him that he is the best landlord and that we will see him again, that we will promise.  Seven years of friendship, it's hard to believe.

And, because it is a beautiful day, one more walk in the Bosco and one more fireside lunch at Il Mulino, the magical country osteria that we fortunately discovered early on.  We are going to miss the heck out of that whole experience. So will our legs and feet, neither of which let either of us down despite the amount of time we spent walking, hiking and climbing.  Thank you God.

As with each and every visit to Assisi, we start and end with time at the Basilica de San Francesco. We take nothing for granted and are thankful for everything. Strength and peace emanate from that site and like a tonic, we rely upon all that is within, before, during and after.

Assisi is addictive. I had a fleeting feeling,early on,that I was "burned out" and it was not long before I realized that Assisi is burned in....to my heart, and always will be.

So, today, we will enjoy and savor every detail and tomorrow we will head off to another part of Umbria for a few days, revisiting a place that is special to us so the drive down the hill will not be quite as painful. At least I'm hoping it won't but the tissues will be in my coat pocket, not in the depth of my huge suitcase.....not far from the real estate brochures.

Ciao Assisi.  Grazie tante per tutti.

Laboratorio di Tessitura a Mano

Giuditta Brozzetti


Click on the above to see who we met today

The tiny, amazing powerhouse of a woman, one Marta Cucchia.  In person, at her workshop. In Perugia.  What a thrill.

Our good friend, Letizia Mattiacci, has a good friend and she threatened me with a not-so-good death if I failed to meet her this trip.

So, off we went this morning, on the train, to the lovely city of Perugia.  Down the hills, past the Etruscan gate, through the campus of the University of Perugia, to the ancient church that is now the workshop of the tiny but powerful Marta.

Marta smiles when she says that she and her siblings used to play tennis in the vast space that how houses her ancient weaving looms.  She points to all of the pieces from the press, the NewYork Times, included, which indicate that she is a local celebrity.  She tells us that in the fifties, her father purchased the old church in which we stand, and all of the surrounding property and that her great grandmother's weaving business fell into history until she, one day, got the "passion" and made weaving her be-all-and-end-all.

The looms are hundreds of years old. The work is labor-intensive.  She brought the looms to the place in which they now reside. She maintains, repairs and works the looms, the first "computers" ever known.  Why?  Because in ancient weaving times, the designs were formulated by what we now know as "punch cards".  The punch cards are still used on these looms and the patterns created are those that were created centuries ago.  To make a new pattern is unthinkable and highly impractical.

You simply have to watch the video and look at the website to get somewhat of an appreciation for who Marta is and what she does.  We cannot possibly explain this one.

Enjoy!

Felice Ringraziemento

It's Thanksgiving day.

We sat here at noon, having a snack - with a glass of wine of course, listening to church bells ringing from our neighbor-cathedral, San Rufino.

We had already been up for quite a while and had taken not one, but two major walks.

Our first walk was one that we had been planning for a while but, as our days here are drawing to a close, one that we knew we had to do today lest we go home with a regret. So, before seven, we suited up and grabbed our hiking poles.  It was sunrise at the Rocca Maggiore or bust!  No rain but not a morning with much promise of a sunny sunrise.  We're somewhat intrepid, not easily discouraged, and often just plain ready for an adventure.  Up an endless ancient staircase and then up a long and steep paved road, we trekked together in the quiet stillness of an Assisi morning.  The air is so clean here.  The sounds of morning are few, but for an occasional rooster and perhaps the first of a daily series of church bells. Then, there's the little putt-putts coming from the tiny vehicles known as "apee's".  Joe says they're basically a tiny auto body built around a lawnmower.  I might add here, that there is a constant and somewhat annoying noise that comes from the rubbish collectors.  They are up and on the job very early every single morning and while I have grown accustomed to their noise, I still get quite startled by the sound of empty glass containers being dumped into their tiny trucks  That goes on all day for some reason. Maybe it has to do with the consumption of wine?

After spending a while up at the Rocca and capturing the serene beauty of the approaching day, we went back down and to our little caffe for a good cappuccino and a cornetto to share.  Joe now prefers macciato but I am still a devoted fan of a good, rich cappuch to really start my day.  We had not brought any money with us so we joked with the barrista about him holding me hostage while Joe went to get his wallet.  "Sei il mio ostaggio" "You are my hostage". And then, the return of "Supereroe" Joe.  No translation necessary.

Our next stop was the good and reliable supermarcato, "Tigre".  It's only about a half mile away and it's small and easy for us.  We needed a few more items and of course, this being a holiday, we needed a bottle of prosecco.  And a bottle of white wine.  I carry the wine bottles in my backpack so the walk home is a bit easier.  We also picked up a few items which I know are not easily available at home and are lightweight and okay to pack.  Next stop was a bit of people-watching at the Commune.

The Piazza del Commune is the central square here in Assisi.  It's the one that we watch, like addicts, on YouTube almost every morning from our home on the Cape.  Assisi Live Webcam.  We're a bit nutty but it works to keep us connected.  Here, it's LIVE!  And we love watching the comings and goings, especially now when the Christmas decorations are starting to evolve. It will take days but the tree will be constructed and on December the 8th, all will be lit for the first time.  Unlike in the States, the Christmas season is short and does not start until December.  Sadly, we will leave Italy before the 8th. We will watch the progress from home next week.

We came back to the apartment for our lovely lunch of hamburgers.  They simply don't taste as well at home.  Here, the beef is different.  No additives, no preservatives, just nicely fed cows and very nice beef.  We did kind of joke about our lunch versus that we might be having on the Cape today  We also reminded ourselves about the fact that we .are in the land of pilgrims, here in Assisi.  Just a different type perhaps.  For centuries, spiritual pilgrims have journeyed to this very location.  No turkeys and corn bread, but real pilgrims!  And so, we are in the appropriate place at the appropriate time. And, to celebrate our good fortune, we decided another visit to the spa was in order.  What good pilgrim can't use a massage and a few hours of steaming, soaking, and enjoying Spa Nun Assisi?

I had one very lovely massage.  It was only twenty five minutes long, but it was very darned good.
In a post from last year, I described Spa Nun Assisi in great detail.  It's referred to as a "Museum" which just happens to be a spa because its foundation just happens to be the ruins of a Roman Bath that was part of an ancient community.  It is absolutely gorgeous.  I have been several times and this afternoon was Joe's second shot at absolute bliss. He did well,  I must say, those Romans sure did know how to spend a Thanksgiving day.

A bottle of Prosecco, a few slices of great bread (we buy it by the slice from a local alimentary where Yolanda, the shopkeeper knows us and how limited our Italian language skills are), some truffle-laced cheese from our friend Luca, topped with his truffle honey (I used to very much not like truffles but I am getting somewhat used to them and even starting to like the taste) and we're having our own aperitivo before the eggplant parmigiana that I prepared in advance goes into the forno.  Our Thanksgiving celebration.  We have soooooooo much for which to be thankful and we try to reflect on that each and every day, but somehow, right now, we're really, really feeling bless ggrateed and we truly are grateful.

To all, a happy Thanksgiving. And, Good Pilgrims, a safe and meaningful journey, wherever that may be.

Risposare in Pace

Bruno Lombardi, posing for me, November, 2018

I find it only fair to warn you.  If you come to Assisi, you will be walking excessively and there will never be a time that you will not be faced with a steep incline or a staircase consisting of no less than fifty cobble-stoned steps.  There's no way around it.  You step outside, you're doomed to a calorie-burner.  The good side of that is that you can eat so many more calories each day. The bad side is the reality of what goes down, also comes up. Even the "flat" surfaces of Assisi are difficult to traverse. Balance and agility are in high demand. With all of this in mind, this  time last year I watched one of my "neighbors" with wonder and admiration on many a November day.

Impeccably dressed from head to foot, dignified and confident, my mystery man of indeterminate age, left the sweet entrance to his home for solo morning strolls down the Via Porta Perlici.  Armed with a set of crutches, he made his way, slowly, rounding the corner and proceeding on the bumpy road. He was taking what the Italians call a "passeggiata".  At the time, my own elderly father was recovering from a broken hip, one that would determine the course of the remainder of his life.  I was totally absorbed as I watched him, thinking of how very different his life seemed to be from that of my parent.  Was he a widower?  Did his wife send him out or did he do so on his own accord?  I knew nothing and certainly was not in the position to make any inquiries.  I would not have the faintest idea of how to say "excuse me sir, but what is your story?" so I just wondered and watched.

One day, I boldly asked if he might pose for a photo and he kindly obliged.  Little did I know at the time, that the photo would become part of a later story.

Returning to Assisi, I realize that by the end of the month, I will have spent three-plus months of my life here.  That certainly isn't a great deal but it has allowed for some keen observations and surely has rewarded me with some very nice friendships and some of the best memories.  I think I notice more pieces of routine life than the average "tourist" and have been told more than once that I am more a "resident" than a tourist.  My daily exchanges with the people in my adopted neighborhood give me a great sense of belonging and I truly do care about all of them. So, when days passed and there was no sign of the elegant gentleman, I started to wonder if and when I would see him again.

A little, handwritten note appeared on the door to his home.  His mailbox was taped over and in Italian, the evidence became clear.  "Lombardi" was no longer in residence.  Did he relocate? Was he thrown out by a relative?  Perhaps he wasn't as nice a person as he had appeared to be. I was disappointed.  And then, I did what the locals do.  I stopped and looked at the obituary notices on the board at the end of the street.  And there, in full-view was the photo and the death notice of who I now know as Bruno Lombardi, taken from this world on November 24th.  It was his funeral mass that we had wondered about as we walked by San Rufino one afternoon, having seen the parking lot filled. and the hearse parked at the massive front door.

I never actually met Bruno Lombardi.  I only exchanged a few words with him and we both paused long enough for me to take his photo. But, for the time that I "knew" him, I was inspired and at the same time comforted in the thought that dressing up and showing up on the street where you live is in itself, the art of living.

Thank you for your time, and rest in peace Sr. Lombardi.

The Week in Photos

The Piazza de Commune in the early evening, Aperitifo Time

A valley view, seen from the Rocca Maggiore.  We walked up to this elevation and have walked down there in that valley too

As part of a delightful afternoon, Letizia and I visited Catia, the owner of Madame Bovary Boutique.  It was a day of being with my two favorite ladies!

The entrance to our apartment.  Up three flights of narrow terracotta stairs but worth it!

A free concert by Cantori Di Assisi at Santa Chiara.  Beautiful Vivaldi

A revisit to a friend from last year. Along the route to the Eremo

At lunch with Diane Lennon and her husband, Mike Swartz at the Mill in the Bosco de Francesco.  Pranzo from a wood fire. 

Catia.  I find it hard to resist visiting her and not buying everything in her shop!

The main door to St. Rufino Cathedral, our "neighborhood church".  I see more details every time I look

The skies of Assisi. The hills of Assisi.  Neither exaggerated!

I love this spot for a cappuccino.  Never miss an opportunity for a view.

Finally, we visited the museum under San Rufino. This is the area of the original Assium. Centuries before Francis ever got moving!

I found a beautiful new path that hangs along the Western perimeter of the town and looks up to Santa Chiara. The area is know as the Mojano

A difference is noticed in the color of the leaves since our arrival.  Fall is here!

Joe on the "easy" route up to the Rocca Maggiore. Well worth the trek, any time of day

A Spritz.  Any time of the day!!!

I

Fallo Doppio. Per Favore.

If you don't get up and out early enough in the morning, you miss stuff.

Just as at home, I am not a late sleeper. By that, I mean that I rarely stay in bed past six o'clock and I have no logical explanation for this habit.  Same, same.

It takes a while to get into the rhythm of life in a small Italian hilltop town such as Assisi.  The first week is practically a wash.  But, we've been here for three weeks already, much to my disbelief and my dread of the rest of the time passing too quickly, and both Joe and I are into the rhythm. Of course, we'd be happy to have a washing machine and we'd really like a more comfortable sofa but other than that, we're quite contented and at ease with our surroundings.

So, this morning I got up extra early and contemplated my options. I did not want to wake Joe. We had a killer (in a good way) day yesterday, hiking up to the Eremo https://www.assisiofm.it/eremo-delle-carceri-assisi-103-1.html and that was just our morning excursion.  I topped the day off with an aperitifo  (Aperol Spritz) with my dear friend Isabel and we were both exhausted as a result.

I decided to give my old cafe Il Duomo, another chance at making me happy and sometime shortly after seven (keep in mind that I'm referring to seven-in-the-morning), I took myself up the street and sat down to a delightful cup of cappuccino, alongside Patricia, the local hairdresser.

In walks a man who I figured for a local.  Up to the counter he went and ordered a J&B.  "Fallo doppio." Make it a double.  Okay.  The barrista pours a double J&B and wham, bam, the guy downs it within seconds, pays and exits.  Hmmm.  Is it me or is this unusual for this hour of the day? As he walks away, both of the others look at each other, shocked a bit, and laughed at which point I also did a giggle.  They exchanged some words which told me that they were surprised and I joined in with "in my country the word would be 'wowsers'"!  "Is he on his way to church?"

The barrista makes the body motion of a bird tilting this way and that in flight.  No words necessary.

Who knows - I guess a whole story could be written about our early-morning-drinker.  I don't write fiction very well. Maybe this could be what gets me on the road.  But,  I do love observing behavior and I do love the exchange, in any language, of the interpretation of the what's-just-gone-on-here, and this was a doozy.  As I paid for my cappuch (1 Euro, 50),  all I could say was...."Wowsers!" which was met with "Doppio!!!"

Gotta get up early or you miss it.

Amici

https://incampagna.com/our-history/

I'm starting today with a link. Please read it.  I don't think I could or would have written a better introduction to a very good friend,one who I love and admire deeply.

And this is how I spent the greater part of my day yesterday.....with Leti.

It's hard to conceptualize the whole scenario.  Mother, father, daughter and dog living very, very high up on a very, very exquisite mountain, far from the inner sanctum of Assisi.  The hows and whys then, are best explained at the website.  You have to be there to fully appreciate the hows and whys, to stand behind the house and take in the views. To breathe in the air, rarified.  To smell the scent of fresh herbs, growing as if they were competing at the County Fair, all of them in line for First Prize.

The first time I met Leti, she collected me at the base of town, not far from the Porta San Pietro. From there, we drove to her then "little" girl's bus stop where we collected the sweet child Tea (TEE AH) and drove up, up and away to their home for an afternoon.  I was struck by the long ride but more by the quiet beauty of Madonna alla Piatto (No, that's not Letizia.  It's the name of their B&B, explained in the above link).  I was also quite taken by the charm of the beautiful Tea.  And by Ruurd and all the work he had done and was still doing at their home.

  Over the years, we have kept in touch. Tea is now tall and still beautiful. She's preparing to go off to college in a few months. She still remembers the little package of napkins I brought on the first visit and is grateful for the package I brought this time.  She's very gracious and graceful for 18.

The beautiful Letizia, taken in Provincetown, first lobster roll ever for her!

  Letizia's cookbook https://madonnadelpiatto.com/cookbook/ is a mainstay in my own kitchen.  When I use it, I feel as if she's standing there with me and last Winter, she actually was, when she graced us with a visit.  My friends immediately grew to love her too and they often ask about her as she does, them.

Two weeks ago, Joe and I were invited to one of her cooking classes.  What a thrill it was to be
cooking with our author-friend, in the very Kitchen With a View.  The day was fun and the food was marvelous and now, we are prepared to take on ravioli when we return. Joe feels very confident so you know that the instruction was as good as it gets.

After her yoga class (this woman never stops learning) yesterday, we met up at our now-usual place, the Piazza San Rufino and carefully selected a place for lunch, one neither had been to and one we both had wanted to try. http://www.hostariaterrachiama.it/ was our perfect choice for a great meal, a nice glass of wine, and a woman-to-woman chat fest.  We caught up, did a bit of gossiping, solved a few problems, and wagged our chins for several hours.  And then, we took a passagiata in true Umbrian fashion, stopping by the shops of friends, making introductions and networking.

We had a most delightful time in my favorite shop in Assisi, Madame Bovary, owned by the incredibly beautiful Catia Piergentili, who will tell you in the sweetest voice that above all, she is a philosopher.  There's nothing in her tiny, packed shop that i don't love and she's the thing I love best in the place.  She and Leti had not met in person up until yesterday and when we left, they were good friends.  I almost left with a new blue dress but the jacket I bought this week might just have to be "the" item this year.  Time will tell.  They do "Black Friday Week" here too.

The beautiful Catia

The beautiful Jo Comodi

My poor, tired friend (she's done a series of cooking classes these past weeks and has more scheduled) and I made our way up towards the place where she parked her car but had to make yet one more stop along the way.  Just doors away from my apartment is the studio of old pal Jo Comodi.
I've written a lot about Jo, and friends have come to know her as my "scarf lady."
http://jocomodi.com/.  I have several of her art scarves, each handmade at her home in Perugia (she took me there once and showed me how it's done and I'm sworn to secrecy - as if I could eve
r do it).
If you were at the Umbrian dinner on the Cape (Letizia's recipes prepared at Firestarter Pizza in Dennis), you might recall the silk poncho I wore.  A long introduction and the two now are friends and hoping to maybe have a workshop at Alla Maddonna one day in the future.

My lovely day, filled with laughs, memories, new and old friendships, was not over until I returned home, met up with Joe and took our own passagiata , this time up again to the Rocca Maggiore to witness again, the beauty of the valley below, the entire town in one breathtaking view, and the promise of a sunset, one that is uniquely beautiful in a uniquely beautiful country filled with uniquely beautiful people.

Here's to friendships that endure, across seas and to the top of mountains. And to very full and good days behind and ahead.

More Changes

From a different cafe, but you get the idea.....

The more things change.....the more things, I was almost about to say "change" in place of the appropriate words "stay the same" but, as I sit here at 7:30 in the morning, in the same cafe, at the same seat I sat, every day last year, I am already starting to see the usual cast of characters entering. This pattern, however, has come to an abrupt end.....

This is the first morning in three weeks that I have availed myself of the opportunity to fully wake up to my surroundings.  I left a sleeping Joe and walked down the street a few steps into my beloved Cafe Duomo.  Nearly broke my heart the day we came in here upon arrival, the absence of Isabel was palpable and it all felt so unfamiliar.  How could a place that had once been as familiar as the keyboard on my laptop turned so cruel and harsh upon my soul I wondered.  Joe had no frame of reference so he was satisfied.  Good cappuccino and an outdoor seating area that hangs over the beautiful Piazza San Rufino.  Devoid of tourists, the silence of the square is broken only by the rushing of water in the fontana and the pigeons flapping.  Not a bad way to wake up.

I have a good internet connection in here.  To my joy, my laptop was instantly recognized and there was no need to enter a password.  That was comforting to say the least.

But, it's after 7:30 and only one familiar face has shown up.  I wonder if he remembers me, the woman who might have been a foreign correspondent? I'm still not entirely sure that the regulars from last year understood what I was doing here every morning.  But, they smiled and I smiled and it all seemed to be great.  Heck, by the time I left, they were even posing for pictures.

Were Isabel here now, I would be enjoying her play list - she shared my love of Leonard Cohen and made sure we had some time together, the three of us.  I would also be getting a little language lesson. Never did I feel dumb in her presence.  I asked questions freely and she answered all of them, including my Italian culture inquiries.  Perhaps that was due in large part to the fact that she is not Italian.  She's Portuguese and is married to an Italian.  Second language for both of us makes for kindred spirits.

Apparently, I am not the only one who misses her.  Isabel, come back to the Duomo.  I need you!!

 THE MORE THINGS CHANGE, THE MORE THEY STAY THE SAME. THAT'S A STUPID SAYING.  THE MORE THINGS CHANGE, THE MORE THEY CHANGE. PERIOD.

A Casa

Last year, when I occupied the ground floor, actually known as "Zero" (the first floor is what we call the second floor), I must admit that I kind of took the neighborhood for granted, as lovely as it was.

This year, with Joe, we call the second (aka third) floor "home" and each and every time we return after venturing out, we know we have earned the right to make that reference.  We enter through an iron, locked gate, and ascend three flights of narrow terracotta steps which lead to our lovely landing and our front door.  Yes, we have just as much street noise every morning when the trash is collected before seven o'clock, but we do have a bedroom window with a view and the very top of the Cathedral of San Rufino makes the climb and noise all worthwhile.

In addition to the noisy trash collectors, we have a construction project going on right outside our door.  I'm thinking that it was going on last year too and am sure it will be still in progress next year.  It has been the object of Joe's fascination and mine, having been an "industrial nurse"who can't help but check out workers at work.  These men are drilling into stone all day long.  They are lifting and toting tons of new stone, creating walls and floors and steps.  Drilling, bending, squatting.  All I note are pads that cushion their knees when they are mortaring and laying cobblestones. Nothing else in the health and safety category. My office is closed.

We're at #16A Via Porta Perlici.  The Piazza del Comune is at the center of the town and south of it, the area known as the Sotto or lower end.  We're north, in the area known as Sopra. Back in the day....way back, this was considered to be THE place to live, the Yuppydom of Assium. Despite several renovations over centuries, the steep road up from the Comune preserves its typical medieval swagger and appearance.  Eventually, the street ends in the Piazza San Rufino which is dominated, to say the least, by the Romanesque facade of the Cathedral. Saint Rufino was the first bishop of Assisi until he was martyred in 238 A.D. And so, he has his own after death hangout. The cathedral represents one of the masterpieces of Umbrian architecture with its three rose windows and the Bell Tower. It was also the baptismal place of Saints Francis, Clare and Agnes.

The Piazza San Rufino, in addition to housing the beautiful Fontana di San Rufino, also has the dubious distinction of being home to the finest pizza in.....well....in all of Italy and my favorite cafe, Il Duomo. Pizza and coffee both within steps of each other. Throw Joe a sleeping bag. He will happily room with the oversized pigeons who frolic in the lovely fountain all day.

The street that shoots in between the two favorites is Via Santa Maria delle Rose. Overlooking the square is the former parish church of Santa Maria delle Rose, called Santa Maria Minore in ancient days in an effort to distinguish it from Santa Maria Maggiore.  I know, this stuff gets confusing.  But think West Dennis....Dennisport and you are heading in the right direction.  Speaking of direction, heading away from San Rufino, up yet another hill, one of zillions that we climb, every day, a zillion times a day, we are back on Via Porta Perlici and loving it.  At Number 9 was the Hospital di San Lorenzo which eventually passed into private hands. At Number 17, the medieval houses where the Uber rich Mammoni family resided.  I think that is where the workers are now busily engaged in converting the building into yet another wealthy holding. Lots of Uber rich families still around.

Coats of arms adorn many of the doorways along Via Porta Perlici and as one deviates to the right along the street part of the Roman Aqueduct of the Sanguinone can be seen.  I think it just looks like an old wall but then, I was not there when it was built.  The street, I do know, terminates at the Porta Perlici, one of the gates into the old town, built on a rocky ridge early in the 14th Century.  Not far from that point, the remains of the Roman Ampitheater are found but that is for another time.

For now, it is time to simply enjoy modern life on Via Porta Perlici and to rest after a lovely lunch with friends at the Osteria del Mulino.

Why Assisi?

Before we left home for this trip to Italy, we were asked about our plans, our destination(s).  We were not surprised when we were questioned about our choice to remain in one place for most of our five weeks here.  What will you do for four weeks in Assisi?  Why Assisi?

For me, the answer is as simple as standing in the Piazza Santa Chiara, watching the sunset over the valley below on a Fall afternoon. It's as uncomplicated as standing in the Upper Church of the Basilica of San Francesco, glancing at Cimabue frescoes waltzing around the walls with Giotto.

Check this out....

The oldest traces of human habitation in the territory later known as Assisi go back to the early Bronze Age (1900-1800 B.C.).......From a 203-page book on the history and art of Assisi.

From the ancient author C.Piccolpasso, The First Book of plans and Portraits of the Cities and Lands of Umbria Under the Government of Perugia, 1578-90, come these words:

Assisi is situated on the side of a mountain, although she encircles it all with walls on the northern side.  The steep cliffs on which she was founded make her impregnable. 

Check out the dates. The BRONZE AGE! "Impregnable"?  Steep cliffs?  Does this say "safe" and "secure" to you?

Serene.  Peaceful.  Quiet.  Charming.  Welcoming.  Quaint.  Lovely.  Sweet.  Luminous. Saintly. Inviting.  Stress-less.  Wonderous.  Healthy.  Inspiring. Alluring. Fun.  Contemplative. Sane. Beautiful. Nurturing. Glorious. Blessed. Passive. Pastoral. Abundant. Dear. Elegant. Zen.

Tomorrow, I will write about our neighborhood and why four weeks simply is not enough.

For now, I will enjoy living in an impregnable town, surrounded by steep cliffs on the side of Mount Subasio, with the company of my favorite traveling companion and a sprinkling of tourists who, like Joe and me, drift quietly through lovely little Assisi, listening to church bells and footsteps on cobblestones.

All In A Day’s Walk

This is the back of the Chiesa Santa Chiara

Blue sky, hill, Joe

Along the walk that leads from the center of Assisi to Santa Maria degli Angeli

The sights that we would miss if we were driving

A Cappuccino with a view


We are, and will be, for two more weeks, totally car-less.  It has its moments. 
Most of them are good, very, very good

Last Week, In Umbria.....and a little bit of Tuscany

This is Joe's favorite place in the world.  D'Andrea Pizza, near our apartment.  

You may remember meeting our incredible friend, Letizia Mattiacci, on the Cape last Winter.  Well, here she is in her kitchen!

Good thing we ordered only one antipasto at lunch that day. And NO, we did not come to Italy for the food!!  NO! NO!

Walking in the Bosco di San Francesco is so much like parts of the Camino de Santiago

The Rocca Maggiore after sunset. Perched up behind our Assisi home on the Via Porta Perlici. Great hiking spot!

Joe.  Thanks to a gift from our daughter before our Camino, I can easily spot him with his red backpack

This narrow path and ancient walls surround the city of Assisi, at its highest point.  A lovely walk with beautiful views, well worth the steep climb up there

If these photos appear to be in an un-natural order, it may very well be due to the fact that I am especially technically challenged since our arrival.  I have so many more photos but for some reason, I can't download them to my laptop from my phone.  Where are our kids when we need them???

They, like most of you, are home, enjoying technological things like washing machines, dryers, and dishwashers among other wonders of modern day life.  We, on the other hand, are hand-washing everything and counting on the heat from radiators to dry everything.  Without the outpouring of heat in the evenings, nothing will dry because........it's November and it's Umbria!  Ah, yes, the season of rain.  And this is the season to end all seasons.  We are getting a LOT of rain, but, thankfully, we're not in the Veneto and we are on top of a hill.  We're surrounded by mountains, Mount Subasio being our closest neighbor.  We're hearing all about the floods of epic proportions in poor Venice and seeing horrible accounts on the news and in the papers.  Assisi gets its own weather and, like Cape Cod, if you don't like it, wait a minute.  We've virtually given up on forecasts and when the sun shines, or even when the rain does not fall, we get out and get our own Italian holiday in gear. Daily. And that always includes walking. Miles. To the supermarket, for instance, which is one half mile away.  Not bad getting there but.....coming back, all uphill.  We had a good laugh today when we made the trek back from the little market called "Tigre".  We thought about how we would never, ever walk home from our home markets, loaded with a few days worth of supplies, a bottle of wine, a sack of sugar, hand-washing liquid, dish detergent, and a few other heavy items. We did it!  Home and up the 3 flights of stairs after a few other flights of stairs in town.  

Let me remind you that we are on a totally different path from those who come on an Italian "vacation".  We're here to experiment with life, to live for a month in a hill town and to relax and have a bit of fun while we're at it.  This is not a Perillo Tour!  And, we keep reminding ourselves, we did not come here for the food......more later.

Last week,  our second, was a mixed bag of all that can possibly be good about being here. We started the week off having coffee with a friend who we've known since our second visit to Assisi.  Rebecca Winke is an American who has lived here for many years, having married a local resident. It was wonderful seeing her again and hearing about her huge successes (rebeccawinke.com). She's a brilliant woman with a sense of humor to match.  Hopefully, we'll get together again before we leave and after her return from Africa.

Wednesday found us on a long taxi ride, way up the mountain, to the loving arms of none other than Letizia Mattiacci, our friend, inn-keeper, cookbook author and owner of a very special cooking school.  We were her guests and together, with her other students, we prepared a sumptuous lunch, complete with a huge amount of Umbrian wine.  Letizia, some of you may recall, was our guest this past Winter.  Now, we can cook for each other.  Maybe not. She's still way better!  Her home is gorgeous and the views of the valley and countryside are spectacular.  It was a fun day with a group of new friends and one we will not soon forget.  Check out her website, blog and recipes at incampagna.com.  

On Thursday morning, our bags once again packed, we hopped the train for Florence.  It's a two and a half hour trip and the adventure was well worth it.  We've been to Florence a few times, never by train and this time, we were not leaving until we had seen a few things that we had been unable to see in previous visits due to time constraints.  Time was on our side this trip so we found a hotel for 2 nights and got our cultural fix.  I was NOT leaving the city until I finally went to the Accademia and saw, "You Know Who".......I got there early and much to my shock, walked right in, no line....and soon after uttered these words to myself....."I'VE SEEN DAVID AND NOW I CAN DIE". That simple. No further explanation.  Can die. Now.  What a thrill.  I cannot believe that in all of my Florence visits, I had never gotten that far.  Seen all the replicas.  But, geesh.  I can't describe this magnificent work of absolutely amazing art.  Go see it.  How the hell did he do it?  One, single, brilliantly executed work of marble.  One man.  Holy cow.

The huge Santa Maria Novella train station is mind-boggling.  So huge and so many people passing through it.  By some miracle, we found our way through the system and made our train on time, returning to the peace, solitude and coziness of Assisi on a rainy Saturday night.

We already have so many new stories.  We are making inscriptions on our hearts every day.  Quite often we both just stop and think about how well we do this whole thing together.  We, along with the fly that we have now adopted, are enjoying our daily routine in our apartment and looking forward to another week of adventures and stories.

And, we did not come here for the food.  That's a lie.

Pizza and Cappuccino

Were I writing a situation comedy about Americans who visit Italy, I would have nailed it.

This morning, we were enjoying a cappuccino and sharing, I must say, one incredibly delicious Nutella-stuffed coronetto when all of a sudden the quiet was interrupted by a flourish of all I can describe as a walking-talking What-the-Hell!!!  We nearly fell off our seats.

Entering the small cafe was a little group of women....five of them to be precise.  The first wave came in and stepped up to the counter where the pizza was displayed, loudly gesticulating.We started to chuckle and nearly slid off our seats in, what? Embarassment? Total shock and disbelief?  And then.....we heard a voice....oh boy, did we ever hear it.....

I WANT TO HAVE THE CAWFEE!!!

Up to the counter she went, totally un-fazed, totally not even TRYING to be discreet or "polite" or, in fact, anything that could fit into a guide book on Italian cafe etiquette.  She met up with her friends, also, we found out, members of the tour group from the U.S., and so, so ready to conquer it all.  The waitress, we noted, had a smile on her face that was wider than anything I have ever seen on a waitress face. She was amused and now, so were we....

"Give me an espresso and pour some of that stuff in it...yeah, sambuca, just pour it in!"

"And I'll have some pizza and I am paying for her and her and her....."

With each of her orders - her very loud orders to the barista, we also smiled wider and wider.  Finally, I had to ask..."Are you from New York?"

She: "Yes I am from the BRONX, Tremont Avenue. I live in Kentucky now"

Me:  "My father was a cop, on the 4-3, I know Tremont Avenue!"

Friend:  "Guess how many kids she has!"

Me:  I have no idea.

She:  "Fourteen. All with the same husband of thirty years"

Holy Cow!

Turns out that this was her first-ever trip to Italy, she's Italian American and she was loving every last bit of it. There is nothing this lady wanted to miss.

You know, I've been to Italy many times.  I love all things Italian (er, most of them - I can give you a list of those things that I do NOT like as easily as those I do).  I suddenly realized how jaded I have become.  My new pal from the Bronx was a little angel who's entrance into the cafe was a reminder to me of how very, very exciting it can be to travel to a place that, in giving birth to 14 babies, one may not ever have envisioned.  She's in Italy. She wants it all and she's going to make sure she gets it all.

So, for this morning, it was pure joy watching a fellow American getting it all, all at once.  It was a thrill to be part of the scene.

Pizza and cappuccino...together?  Why the hell not? Enjoy Italy my friend and take it all in!!!

To Life!

To Spoleto We Go

Being a city girl at heart, I'm not terribly certain about the meaning of the term "make hay", but I think it means that one is urged to do something (like mowing down a wheat field), when the time is right to do it.  So, yesterday, one that started and ended with sunshine, was a day to make hay. The weather forecast was accurate for once and we decided to not waste one single minute, fearing that the accuracy will continue and we will be faced with more rain soon.

Our apartment is located in the upper part of the ancient hill town of Assisi.  This part of town is known as the "Parte de Sopra" and we're located approximately 160 meters away from a bus stop area called the Piazza Matteotti. Cars that drive through our neighborhood, do so with caution and always with side-view mirrors tucked in.  Most of them just about fit, width-wise and when encountering one on the narrow streets,you have to find a place into which you can tuck your body as the vehicle passes by.  There isn't room for both your body and the car so the bigger one wins.

The train station is located in Santa Maria degli Angeli, the "service town" of Assisi, down the hill, outside of the ancient walls, and is 2.2 miles of what I consider an easy walk.  Coming back, not so much.Buses go from the P. Matteotti to the station on a regular basis so the option is aways open.  Most of the time, I opt for the walk and yesterday, we did the option of .....compromise.  Caught the bus at the other end of town, the "Parte de Sotto", and exited at the train station for the next leg of our journey and some more challenges and caught the train to the beautiful hill town of Spoleto.

I'm not good with reading transportation schedules.  Or maps. But I do have a good sense of direction and time.  Joe's great on schedule-reading and maps.  He can decode the "you are here" symbols and know where to turn to go to "we want to be there".  Together, we make a good team.  And, we both like to walk, accepting challenges along the way.  He says that I have a great "stride" and I accept his compliment.  Walking is my sport.  It's the only thing I feel really "good" at in fact.  

Spoleto,one of the largest towns in southern Umbria, is another walled medieval hill town.  The lower parts of its wall are from the 6th Century, BC. Spoletium, the first Roman settlement, began in 241 BC, evidenced by remnants of this culture throughout the city. From the top of the city, which is accessed by seven sets of escalators, the views of the surrounding valley are incredible. We were able to enjoy an unhurried lunch at a table by a window and stroll leisurely through the un-crowded town, enjoying the sun and the beautiful architecture. We prefer travel in the off-season for many reasons, not least of all, the lack of tourist crowds.  We almost had the town to ourselves.  

I guess you could say we made hay. Abbiamo fatto il fieno.  (I bet there's an idiom for it here)

Yes, we walked up to that fortress

I Love Bosco!

We've been here a week now.

Want to know a  secret?

I get a bit homesick for at least the first week that i am in Italy.   

I know the feeling will pass but for now, I honestly miss a lot of the life I left behind and the things I took for granted.  I also miss those things that I took for granted during my last visit.

My favorite barista in my favorite cafe has gone on to a new job so, I no longer have a favorite cafe.  So much of what I enjoyed was woven into her personality and the way she made me feel welcome and comforted every morning.  The whole place now has a different vibe.  I miss the blue skies and sunshine that marked most of my former days.  Most of the time here so far has been spent in rain.  We've barely seen the sun for any prolonged amount of time and we don't have the rental car at the moment so there's no escaping.

But.....on the ONE good-weather day, we did take full advantage of the gift and set out on a path of serendipity that led to a place I will never take for granted, the beautiful Bosco de San Francesco, known as the "Other Half of Assisi".

The Bosco is a sacred landscape made up of forests (bosco), olive groves, cultivated fields, hills (lots of them) plains, farmhouses and a little parish church.  Sheltered behind the area of the Basilica, the land was donated to the FAI (Fondo Ambiente Italiano) in 2008.  When the land was donated, it was a completely abandoned and neglected woodland, badly in need of attention and yet, there was a feeling that this was a special place. A stretch of pink cyclamen hinted at the true beauty that could be aroused with love and care over time. And....lots of hard work.

Leading landscape experts and architects applied themselves to eliminating damages and as paths were cleared and new life was planted, it was determined that this would not simply be a place for a walk in the woods. As life regenerated, olive trees, flowering specimens and lush greenery pushed forward as signs that indicated that visiting the woodland would mean setting out on a sort of interior journey to discover the message of "perfect harmony between Man and Creation" that was taught centuries before by St. Francis.

The end of the route culminates with an extraordinary piece of land art called the Tezzo Paradiso, specially created for the Bosco by Michelangelo Pistoletto.  It's three concentric circles of olive trees, with a walking path that allows one to weave around and actually feel the connection.  If nothing else, one easily finds peace and tranquility in making the rounds.

We spent a few lovely hours in the Bosco, not only getting a great physical workout, but also a spiritual one. It's hard to be homesick when one feels totally part of the universe, so much like we felt when we were on the Camino de Santiago.  

St James may very well have been in cahoots with St. Francis.  Now, if the saint in charge of transferring photos from iPhones to MacBooks would only come forward, I would be happy to post some amazing photos of not only the Bosco but the beautiful fireside lunch that we had at il Mulino, a farmhouse right there at the intersection of lovely and wonderous.

La Lingua

Can you imagine approaching a stranger in the U.S. and asking "scusi, parle Italiano?", especially if you were anywhere but in the Bronx?  I'm certain that the answer would be "huh?" and don't even think it would be worth the breath.

So, I am always amazed at how many Italians speak English and how well they do.

I struggle with the language.  Just told Joe last night that it is interesting how well I do with my "words" and even nowadays my "sentences" when not in the presence of a native speaker and while nowhere even vaguely near this country. I can formulate thoughts, plot them out, and clearly speak them in my head in....going out on a limb here.....perfect Italian.  Maybe I should make a few videos to prove to myself that I can do that.  Maybe I can just use the videos when in Italy, as my little voice boxes because when I am here, the words simply get in the way. Joe says it has to do with becoming worried about making a mistake.

Another point about the use of language makes me realize that I am not in my Mother-land.  Here, men actually ASK directions.  Yes, they do.  And at least twice a day, I am approached by an Italian man, who, in Italian asks ME how to get to a specific place.  Fortunate for me, most of the requests are to major churches.  I must look like a holy Italian or maybe even a nun.  So, I've actually gotten fairly good at giving directions. Hand gestures help a lot too, especially in directing.  Especially in Italy.

"Scusi, Senora.  Dove tomba San Francesco?"

"Scusi, Senora.  Dove casa San Francesco?"

"Scusi, Senora. Dove Basilica?"

"Scusi, Senora. Dove Santa Chiara?"

There's a pattern to this that makes it oh, so much easier for this senora. Assisi is a small hill town with an upper (sopra) part,  a central (piazza del Comune) part, and a lower (sotto) part. Each part is anchored down with at least one major landmark. So, all you have to add to that are the words, "dritto" or "straight", "destra" or "right", and "sinistra", left.  "Vicino" also becomes a handy word, meaning "in the area..nearby" and it allows one to be vague but at least not too misleading.

Add arm movements and an air of confidence to the conversation and it might sound like this...

"Alora, dritto e sinistra, dritto e destra e, bah, in vicino.  Arriverderci"

My father was also very good at this type of thing.  He was a cop on a beat in New York.  Countless times each day, he would be asked for directions and he could not have cared less about what language who was speaking.  He held fast on the use of his own language.  He said it was all very easy for him because no matter who asked, no matter how complicated the route to the final destination requested, he always had the same (and to his way of thinking, correct) answer. In. Perfect. English.

"STRAIGHT AHEAD".

My father, the Italian teacher.

Or maybe I just look like a cop?

Santa Maria della Rose

Above, the Alpha, below, Omega

It's known as "MARIA" and it is an exhibition of sacred sculptural artwork of the Italian artist Guido Dettoni della Grazia.  The work is a permanent exhibition, stunningly installed in the 16th Century Church of Santa Maria delle Rose on a quiet street in the upper section of Assisi.

The installation is based upon hand-sized sculptures, a total of thirty-three (for each year in the life of Jesus), encased individually in lighted glass cylinders that hang from a round steel frame. The tiny sculptures, each made from a different of the Earth's woods, are planted in soil. Overhead one sees in the frame the letter "A" representing "Alpha" and below, the form of "O" for "Omega".

Adjacent to the circular exhibit is a large marble sculpture, beautiful in its simplicity and breathtaking in its elegance. Inside the circle, on a table, lie several white marble sculptures, intended to be picked up and held by visitors.  A guide encourages this and carefully explains that each depicts the life of Mary as it is manipulated in the hand.  With grace and reverence, she demonstrates, using her own hand, how the sculpture fits into the palm.  We are invited to be fully involved by touching, smelling the fragrance of the trees of Mallorca, looking closely and feeling the shape and its subtle changes that evoke the feeling that we have a uniquely meaningful life in our own hands if only for a few moments.

Different angles allow one to distinguish significant moments in the life of Mary. Genuflecting, carrying the pitcher to the well, pregnant with her child, Jesus, Mother and child, and finally, seen from a horizontal perspective, she becomes the Dove of Peace.

Mini-Me

The city of Perugia, Italy has approximately 529 thousand fewer residents than the city of Boston, Massachusetts, according to the 2018 census.  It has lots of newer high-rise (for this part of the country) apartment buildings in its surrounds and is probably best known for its older parts, all of which are way, way uphill.  The first time we attempted to get to the Centro by car, we simply could not do it.  We drove around and around, unable to find a space to park.  We abandoned our plans. Sadly.  Fast forward to the present time. The problem was solved in 2008.

A few trips ago, an Umbrian-resident friend suggested that we try again.  Only this time, another of those wonderful secrets that keep us returning to the region was revealed.  "Park your car in the big, free lot and take the Minimetro up into the center" was her advice.  Una donna geniale.  A genius, that woman!

More about the charming city of Perugia later. It was early on our list of places to be in Umbria because the train station was the drop off center for our rental car. That's a whole other story.  We are carless and fancy-free now.  Happiness comes by foot. With an umbrella.  That's also a whole other story, one that hopefully, will have a happy ending one of these days.

So, I re-introduced Joe to the Mini and off we went, up, up and up to the top or "centro" of Perugia, after making four of the seven stops that the tiny cars briefly make.  The cars are small and they keep on coming so there's never a stampede to catch one and entrances and exits are done with civility and efficiency.  When all the stops have been completed, the tiny cars go around a bend and start all over on the  gleaming rail.  Miss your stop, catch it on the next pass. Toddlers love this stuff.  Nonnas love this stuff.
Take a cranky grandchild on the mini and you've rescued the day. While it is not an amusement park ride, it still is fun.  Too bad kids just take it for granted.  We sit on our seats in total amazement as we imagine zipping up Route 3 from Quincy to downtown Boston. Or is this another of those "Only in Italy" happenstances that we see happening every day? While in Italy.

Ciao!