Assisi

11/10 ASSISI

After an incredibly quiet, peaceful night in the bush, we were ready for a plough up the mountain on bikes toward Eremo della Carceri to find St Francis’s hermitage or cave.  It was a steep and rewarding climb taking some 55 minutes to near top passing the retreat and only 10 minutes to fly down the hairpins home.  The scenery was spectacular through remote, completely undeveloped bush with incredible views over fog filled valleys, their texture enhanced by the tippy tops of pencil pines and hillocks peeking through.  Around the corner, the plump orange sun was arriving.

We stopped on the way back down at Eremo being early enough to be there as the first visitors as the monks opened up.  A humble beautiful cluster of pink stone buildings grow from the cliffs amidst the forest over-looking the Perugian Valley.  We quietly explored the tiny little vestibules with their ancient pink stones almost rubbed red where St Francis slept, prayed and reflected.  What made it especially magical was that we were the only ones there for the duration of our visit.  On our zoom back down, we passed 5 minibuses of pilgrims heading up - just in time.

Eremo entry

house on top of the cave

into the cave

St Francis' altar

view down to Assisi

  

Our completely frozen fingers fumbled with packing our shower bags but we thawed out under robust streams for a change (no coins, not timed, no single bulleting water-jets or miserable lonely dribbles, big enough to turn around directing the water onto one’s back…...ahhh).

After our wonderful breakfast & great school, we were all excited to visit Umbria’s spiritual capital.  We took a steep, long walk up to the Rocca Maggiore (the fort) getting an extra-ordinary view over the old town and the valley below (we were too stingey to pay the €15 for entry into the castle). 

Cappucine Gate into Assisi

Rocca Maggiore

that cloud?!

rolling hills of Umbria

Back down into the very pretty streets of Assisi, we all AGAIN declared it’s the prettiest town we’ve seen so far - it just keeps getting better!!  Wil dragged a bouncing stone behind him on a discarded bit of string delighting in the noise it made when bumping over old bronze grates and Kel told an endless BK story to Jeff all the while weaving in features of what was around us including the ubiquitous quiet presence of busy quiet Poor Clares (or as she calls then Little Grey Nuns). 

view down to the Basilica from the Rocca

a quiet Assisi avenue

St Francis' Basilica

2 churches, 1 on top of the other

There are many important churches and places of worship but we took in only three.  The High and Low Basilica’s of St Francis are utterly beautiful with bright colours, engaging Giotti frescos, wonderful ceilings, bronze modern sculptures & gardens and best of all, the heavenly full sound of a choir, joyously large ladies and gentlemen from New Caledonia permeating the cloisters and courtyards.  Made from beautiful almost glowing pink & white marble, it sits poised up high but growing from and sinking into the rock from the which it is made, it is a most incredible piece of almost sympathetic architecture.  And there’s the ubiquitous presence & welcoming faces of the nuns and friars.  We took some time reflecting in St Francis’ modest inviting crypt below.  Now our second favourite church to the Sagrada???

We also saw the Nuovo Chiesa  once St Francis’s family home) and the St Chiara, another striking pink & white church which houses St Francis & St Clare relics and the nun’s tomb. 

So wandering through the pretty lanes, we were first seduced by the smell of roasted chestnuts. 

roasted chestnuts

 Inspiring Wil to pen.....

Chestnut

We were riding around Lake Varese. It was a beautiful warm day, and the rowers were puffing down the lake. We stopped to picked up some chestnuts next to some old fish freezers (big stone insulated huts) and shelled them. Then Mum and I took a bite. Mum’s face contorted into something slightly resembling an English Bulldog. I spat mine out. Dad and Kel were smart not to try them

Before: Blech. Bitter, hard, green. They have a lingering taste that stays in your mouth forever. They are face-scrunchingly bitter. Planty past being unbearable. Hard to bite, very firm. Disappointing despite their large, smooth chocolaty brown appearance.

The old man toddles slowly among the trees, stooping down to add chestnuts to his collection, in an old hessian bag. He reaches the end of the forest and ambles up the hill to his stall. He takes over from his son and puts the chestnuts into his roaster. The roaster has three levels and had been in the family for a hundred years. It was round and made of iron. The bottom was hot coals and embers, burning away. The middle was an iron plate on which the chestnuts sit to be smoked. The top is another iron plate to keep them warm.

Roasting chestnuts involves three steps. The first is to put the chestnuts in the middle of the roaster to be smoked. Then they are moved to the bottom, were they sit calmly among the burning coals for ten minutes. The last step is to put them in a bag and sell them. The old man runs through his three steps, and when it is done he hugs the bag close to him, for it is winter and the air is chilly.

We are walking through the beautiful town of Assisi. We stop by the fountain, and take a rest. Kib takes a photo. Dad takes one too. Mum spies something and mystically tells Dad and I to sit back down and wait a bit. She goes off with Kel to a stall with ‘YUMMY CHESTNUTS’ written on an umbrella.

The girls come back with a warm bag and open it. I reach in to get one, but they’re too hot. Mum fishes one out and pulls apart the already split shell and gives me a bit. After that first taste, I acquire an insatiable desire for more. The complication of the hot shells is carelessly thrown to the wind, and I thrust my hand in the bag for more. I give a start and pull it out, blow on the fingers and slowly lower back in. I fish a Ball of Heaven out and carefully pull the shell off the heavenly interior. Then all caution is abandoned and I pop it into my mouth.

After: YUM. Soft and sweet, with a hint of hazelnut. Slightly buttery and warm, smooth on the outside. Slightly crinkled like a cortex. Easy to bite into, has a section in the middle that is a bit crunchy. Filling texture. Nuttier and firmer than sweet potato, but has a similar texture to when the potato is roasted.

The smell of something roasting wafts to my nose. I breathe deeply and get out of bed. For some reason, I’m already in my clothes. I float weightlessly (maybe it’s a dream?) to a church. It is little and sparsely decorated. It has a stone floor and a small wooden altar. Behind it is a giant chestnut with a split across it on the wall. That’s a bit strange. My clothes change to monk’s robes, and my form kneels before the altar and begins to pray. I hear a voice behind me.

‘Hello.’ I jump up and spin around. Standing there is a young man in robes like mine, sandals and olive skin. His hair was shoulder length and he had a small pointy beard. 

‘C-c-c-can it b-be?’ I stutter. ‘J-Jesus?’ He smiled kindly and gave a little nod.

‘It is I.’ I take a few moments to gather myself and bow. ‘Oh, no need to bow, young man.’ Jesus is quite handsome, really. He walks over to a pew and seats himself. ‘I’m not that special.’ He says modestly.

‘Sorry.’ I mutter. Jesus gives a bark of joyful laughter.

‘Don’t be. But, we must get to the point.’ He waits for a moment and I gestured for him to go on. ‘Wilsen, I need you to go out into this wide world, and repair my church. Spread the word of the chestnut! You modern people seem to have forgotten what a vital part it plays in dedication to God. For it is His favourite food!’ He took a moment to look around and leaned closer to me. ‘You must tell them that it can only be had roasted!’

I nodded nervously.

He gives another short chuckle and gives me a hug. ‘I know I can trust you, brother.’

‘Yes, you can.’ I confirm.

‘Goodbye, my faithful servant!’ He said and it all dissolved into white mist.

We are riding along in the early morning mist, puffing madly. We pass through the old gates and our bums are promptly shaken to oblivion, as we hit the cobbles. We plough ahead, and make it (finally) to the square. A couple of barrel-chested Italian ladies are having a vivid chat by the fountain, and the town is slowly waking up.  The old man is there, selling his chestnuts, and he smiles as we approach. He counts out the chestnuts for us, and we give him the money.

We exchange ‘Arrividerci!’s and trundle off up the hill. When we arrive in Ed, we put the chestnuts on the table and tuck in. Kel is going to say ‘That sounds a bit ruuuude!’

"Peace and Good" (St Francis' motto)

Then there was Gran Caffe - Jean - you could lose yourself in here for the rest of your life. We had to have another gelati….ricotta & fig, tiramisu, coffee, orange rind…..

Taking the wrong Porta exit we climbed a madly steep, long windy road home and were so ready for an early dinner of pasta & bolognaise mince.

Conveniently, the rain then came bucketing down and didn’t stop all night.

12/10

It poured gloriously all night excusing the J’s from morning exercise.  We’d planned a ride down onto the plain and back up the mountain to Assisi - shame. Instead, we rolled over, listened to the rain and decided finally to put on the billy at 0845.

Undecided as to what to do, we simply stepped through the easy routine, waiting on the weather.  All became clear as we settled on the idea of taking the kids to Eremo which proved to be everyone’s favourite part of the day.  The kids thoroughly enjoyed the natural setting in the clouds and given the rain, once again, we were the only ones as we sat reflective in the small welcoming grotto.  

Surrounding the tiny hermitage were beautiful paths disappearing into the bush leading to a few, what the kids called ‘natural churches,’  consisting of smooth rocks arranged in intimate semi-circles around wooden crosses with large natural stone pulpits.  Wil described them as the most beautiful churches in the world.

For something special, we lunched at the campground hotel having previously salivated at the CHEAP menu.  It was wonderful, deep inside an almost underground stone made-over basement, heated by a large traditional open BBQ and filled with local loud Italians and busy welcoming Italian waiters.  We ate an enormous meal of bread & olive oil, spaghetti, polenta & fungi, salad and finished off with tiramisu and cappuccinos, before heading off to the next destination........