Our Italian Adventure - Pt. 3

“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.” – Henry Mille

 

During our time in Italy, la famiglia Clark visited several magical ancient cities, each special in its own way. Civita di Bagnoregio (S. Umbria) is a medieval town so picturesque it looks more like a computer generated image in a movie than a real town.

 

Perched high atop a steep hill and surrounded by cliffs, Civita is accessible only by a long narrow bridge spanning a deep ravine. The path is just wide enough for two donkeys pulling carts to pass and in the morning, when the fog is just right, the town literally looks like it’s floating in the air.   

 

It was a long, hot, sweaty walk to the top of that hill, but well worth it. The views, at the end of each narrow street and from every vantage point over the cliffs, were indescribably beautiful. The town is an example of centuries of history built in layers on top of itself. We visited a Byzantine-style Christian church that was once a Temple of Minerva. It was built by the Romans and we stood near the stone drain holes for blood generated by their sacrifices at the altar.      

 

Assisi, the home of St. Francis, one of my favorite saints, is big and bustling, and even though ancient (and, of course, walled and beautiful) it seems much more modern than I expected. St. Francis’ connection with animals is his appeal to me and it turns out, that connection was part of the radical message of poverty, love for others and spreading God’s word that Francis eventually was sainted for.

 

He believed all God’s creatures were part of his brotherhood – “the sparrow as much as the pope.”  He is said to have preached to a flock of birds who sat rapt in his presence until he told them they could fly away. He also spoke to a wolf who was eating people, told it to stop, then convinced the village to adopt and feed the wolf as a pet.

 

St. Francis’ church was a teaching school where priests from all over Italy came to learn how to communicate his message. Francis also founded a female version of his Franciscan order - the Poor Clares – named after a follower who also gave up her wealth to embrace God’s teachings and a life of poverty.  Francis is credited with staging the first nativity scene and, because of his deep love of nature, is also the patron saint of ecology.

 

Orvieto (also in S. Umbria) is a pretty, festive, flag-filled town with a cathedral so spectacular that popes used it over the years whenever circumstances forced them to flee Rome. Art shops line the streets and most of the tourists are Italian.  

 

Cinque Terre, “the five lands,” is on the coast and each of its five towns, painted in bright colors and dotting the coastline, also look more like CGI than reality. Until the 1920’s, when a rail line went through, the cities, though within walking distance of each other, were extremely isolated. The first trail the railway opened was between Riomaggiore and Manarola. Called Via dell’Amore, the “pathway of love,” it became a meeting place for lovers from the towns and although closed for the past couple of years by a rock slide, still retains its mystique. 

The five towns are now connected by train, boat or hiking trail. Mr. Clark and I hiked between four of the towns and due to multiple trail closures, what was supposed to be a manageable seven miles along the coast turned into an arduous near trudge up and down the steep hills between the towns.    

 

The trail was well-marked with stripes of red and white, painted on walls, fence posts, rocks, buildings, streets and doors. The path wove through terraced gardens and vineyards that covered the hills as far as we could see. Our views were of the steep cliffs overlooking the sea, ferry boats scurrying between the towns, other colorful towns dotting the hillsides, the shoreline and the deep blue sea. The streets in Manarola were filled with parked boats – no cars - just scooters and boats.

 

Meandering through the towns, up and down steps through overgrown brush, and even through some private yards and gardens, we were greeted by locals who didn’t speak English, as well as quite a few German tourists sporting big hiking boots and serious metal walking poles. It was both an exhausting and exhilarating day.   

 

We stayed in Vernazza, another of the five towns, in a tiny, simple room perched on the top of a cliff overlooking to the beach below. We slept with the windows open, to the sounds and scents of the sea. And, from our small rooftop terrace, we felt like we could see the whole world. 

 

We ended our Italian adventure in Florence (Firenze in Italian) and while it is certainly another spectacular place, I didn’t find it to be nearly as magical as our other destinations had been…We’ve been home for nearly a month now and as you can tell, I’m having a hard time letting go of Italy.

 

Why? I think it’s having truly experienced “la belle vita” which is a very different way to live than our often hectic American lives. The pace is slower in Italia; the people take more time to experience, savor and enjoy things. Country-wide, everything closes from 1 until 4 each day and Sunday is a day of complete rest. The Italian approach is so leisurely that one is not only encouraged, but indeed mandated to stop and smell the roses.

 

One reason Italian food is so good is that it is cooked the way Italians live – painstakingly, lovingly and proudly, with a local focus. The only fast food is the McDonalds near the train station in major cities. Meals are long, have many courses and are shared with friends and family  and, in Italy, friends and family are everything.

 

Italians are an affectionate, passionate people, loud and quick to laugh. Their conversations are animated, punctuated with arm and hand gestures. They hug frequently. They enjoy life and each other. In Italy, one does not see kids on electronic devices at the restaurant tables and no one checks their phone while they eat.

 

Tradition says if you toss a coin “sopra la spalla” (over your shoulder) into the Trevi Fountain, you will return to Rome. We did that and our coins all made it into the fountain. I hope that means we get to return not only to Rome, but to Italia again.