Assisi - afternoon of June 6, 2010

Negotiating Assisi - After consulting maps and setting the GPS, we're off for an afternoon of sightseeing to Assisi - about 20 miles north of Spello. We end up taking an exit too soon, and wander around some of the back roads before driving our way onto a main road. It isn't always easy to find the parking lots designated in guide books, especially when one takes an alternate way into town. Hence, printed google-type maps of the roads around a town are helpful.

We ended up in the Parking Mojano (Moiano?) lot in the southeast part of town. We bought our parking ticket but don't quite remember how much it was - maybe about $5E/day ($8 US). Rick Steves' book said there's an escalator - all we found was an elevator. There is still a bit of a hike up a hill and steps - not unusual for any Italian hill town. The streets are narrow, cobbled, and not really meant for cars although occasionally, a few sneak on through. It's quite hot this afternoon and the sun reflection is strong. Although I have applied sunscreen on my face and arms, I discover later later that my calves were overexposed - usually not a problem for my olive-toned color.

Trattoria da Erminio - Steves' book has recommended this restaurant as charming, with peaceful tables on a tiny square or indoor seating under a big, medieval, brick vault. Run by Federico and his family for three generations, they specialize in local meats cooked on an open-fire grill. Since it is close to 2 p.m. and restaurants close at 3 p.m., we head directly for lunch. Luckily, an outdoor table in shade opens up and Federico graciously sets it up. We share an antipasto of artichoke bottoms (1.80 E) and primi of thick spaghetti-like noodles dressed with olive oil and truffle sauce (11 E). Delicioso!

We both order the grilled meat plates with small portions each of sausage, lamb, chicken, and pork (12 E/each). It is served the Italian way with nothing else on the plate for decoration. The meat is smoky and wonderful. Bob gets a cortorno of tomatoes (7.6 E), and downed with a liter of ice cold aqua frizzante (fizzy water -2E) and 1/2 liter of red wine (6 E). It is a pleasant meal enjoyed on the quiet, shady corner of a little square. Our bill comes to 56.40E which includes the price for the privilege of eating outside for 4E. $70 U.S. for lunch is definitely spendy.

Tromping Assisi - Because we're in the neighborhood, we head toward Porta Perlici in the northwest end of town with hopes of seeing a Roman amphitheater. Along the way, we pass through a small plaza where a group of local women and men are gathered harvesting flower petals. It seems to be a fairly casual group - the primary goal is visiting. There are a couple of small floral designs that children and others are working on. It's actually quite refreshing to observe this little group nestled in conversation with the communal effort of doing something for Corpus Domini. What a difference this scene is from the large, very organized artists in Spello.

At the Porta Perlici location, we see some views of the "green heart of Italy," in the Umbrian hills. The ruined castle, Rocca Maggiore, is in the distance. It took awhile to find, but we eventually locate the Roman amphitheater from the first century, A.D. It's surrounded by homes and buildings built in the 13th and 14th centuries and the amphitheater doesn't feel like a big deal. Roman aqueducts abound throughout Italy - it's remarkable to see them and yet the Italians take these antiquities completely for granted. They are simply part of their life, grounding them intrinsically to their historical past.

Arches, Artisans and Antiquities - We try to stick to Rick Steves' recommended city walk and I think that, for the most part, we accomplish it with a wrong turn here and there. All the houses/apartments are stone and many have plaques that say "Pace Bene," which means pass in peace or good peace, or something wise like that. In the center, at the large, open Piazza del Comune, there is much Roman Forum history to behold with 16th century frescoes on the walls in the old market, Roman baths and cisterns, and the Temple of Minerva. There is a large fountain in the "square" and artisan and souvenir shops line the sides. The wide piazza is filled with stone and nary a bit of greenery in sight - thus making it very hot. There are plenty of nuns, sisters, brothers, and monks striding around that contribute to the sense of authenticity.

The six fluted Corinthian columns of the Temple of Minerva dominate the Roman forum in the Piazza. The Church of Santa Maria sopra ("over") Minerva was added in the ninth century. We pop into the blessedly cool interior that is predominantly blue and 17th-century Baroque gilt. Flanking the altar are the original Roman temple floor stones with drains for bloody sacrifices.

House of Shhhhhhhhhhhhh- We arrive at the Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi with no clear direction of where to go. Although Steves' book is very informative, the crowds of people and the choices of where to enter leave us confused. We enter through a grand doorway of the lower basilica and end up in the tomb where St. Francis' remains are above the altar in a stone box with iron ties. The basilica itself was built as a testament to St. Francis' life of peace and poverty. He would never have dwelt in such a structure as it would be a contradiction to his beliefs. Although St. Francis came from Assisi, he is considered more to be a saint of all Italy. The basilica was constructed (12th-13th centuries) and painted with representative fresco murals of the saint's life by some of the famous painters of the time such as Giotto and Lorenzetti.

The upper basilica is considered to be the first Gothic church in Italy and locals claim it has the oldest stained glass in Italy. Unlike most Catholic churches in Italy, this basilica is remarkable in the lack of gold and gilt everywhere. Instead, it is lined with murals by Giotto depicting the life of St. Francis. Nearly every surface is painted but there is more of a symmetrical or Moroccan feel to the paint patterns. It is lovely. The ceiling is painted with a seemingly simple and luminescent color of blue and green, mostly likely representing the heavens.

We don't spend much time contemplating the murals. They are beautiful and very significant. While we wander the church, every few minutes as the sound levels rose, a man - likely a brother or monk - intones in a very deep monotone, "Quiet. Quiet, please. Quiet," followed by a long, sonorous, "shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." Everyone respects the request for a few minutes until their voices crescendo again, and "the voice" once again admonishes everyone to pipe down. I began to wonder if it was a real person or simply a recording set to play at certain intervals. Because the basilica is a house of worship, there is a constant struggle between the prayerful faithful and the admiring tourists. In almost every church there is a section set aside "for prayer only," which is a nice touch for those who wish to do so.

Assisi's Patron Saint - We are doing our best to absorb every history-filled moment. St. Francis of Assisi might be the homeboy, but the patron saint of Assisi is Rufino (the town's first bishop, martyred and buried here in the third century). We pop in to take a look at his church, which has some peek holes into some ruins and a Roman cistern. This is all very cool stuff and - no disrespect intended - it looks pretty much like a bunch of golden dirt with stones and bricks. More remarkable to me was photographing two ladies out in the courtyard dressed in the most outlandish tourist getups I came across. You'll recognize them in the accompanying photos in their floral skirts, red and white crocheted sweater vests, backpacks and straw garden hats.

St. Francis' Groupie - The female counterpart, and biggest fan of St. Francis' philosophy was St. Clare. Both were from Assisi, and the 18-year old rich girl fell in love with 30-year old Francis' message. Clare left her distraught parents and adopted a life of abject poverty. She was eventually joined by other women who banded together as the Poor Clares. She spent the next 40 years of her life within her convent barefoot, vegetarian, and mostly silent. The Basilica of St. Clare was built in 1265. It is elegant in its grandness yet appropriately sparse.

 At the opposite end of her crypt downstairs were relics I found most interesting. These included her rough robes, her long hair that she had cut off, a tunic she made, and some relics of St. Francis (including a blood-stained stocking that he wore after receiving the stigmata).  It is these details of life that I identify with most. The attached cloistered community of the Poor Clares has flourished for 700 years.

Outside the church is a large plaza that overlooks the Umbian valley with its patchwork farms and distant hills. By now we are hot, sticky, and tired from the early start we had to our day to get to Spello, which was preceded by the long drive from the Cinque Terre and La Spezia. Was that only yesterday?

Return to Soriano - The two-hour drive back to Soriano nel  Cimino passed without event and we managed to find our way to the parking lot that is much closer to Palazzo. There weren't any free spots on the upper level so we head into the garage below and pay $1E for 24-hour parking.

You Say Margherita, I Say Caprese  -We're not all that hungry, but we find a local place that sells pizza by the square called Bar Pizzeria Siria. There's quite a crowd in there and I hope by the time I get to the front I'll figure out how to buy the stuff. A couple of big-sized Italian ladies seem to be edging their way in front of me and I'm competitive enough not to let this happen so I edge them out with my elbows and shoulders.

The couple in front of us that are buying 10 squares of pizza finally grabbed their packet, so I step boldly forward and point to a pizza with tomato, basil, mozzarella, "Uno caprese, per favore." The guy looks at me with a quizzical expression, points to the wrong pizza and I repeat, "no, caprese." He has absolutely no idea what I'm saying and I'm thinking, "what's so difficult about understanding caprese?"

Then the two big ladies step in with a flurry of Italian to rescue me and use the word, "margherita." Oh, heavens. Yeah, yeah. Margherita, not caprese. Same ingredients, different dish. They laugh with me and I silently forgive them for being so pushy. We also get a piece of sausage and funghi (mushroom) pizza. As it is throughout Italy, we never see a pizza wheel. Everyone uses scissors to cut the thin - and limp - pizza.

Italian Takeout - I communicate that we want them wrapped for take out. Bob spots a 1/2 liter of cold diet Coke which looks really great. We pay less than $6E and are hoofing our way to the Palazzo. The pizza gets nuked in our microwave and we head downstairs to the little garden with our bottle of wine and Coke. It is quite pleasant down there and a delightful end to the day.

Buona Notte - Back upstairs we take baths, do laundry, and hit the hay in our four poster bed with the billowy side curtains while gazing up at the hand painted pattern on the ceiling. The heavy, paned (original hand-blown glass) windows and shutters are open to the clear, cool evening air.