A Tour of the Ancients

You can’t hold a good girl down

Today I woke up with a sore throat. Don’t think for a minute that I let that stop me. We were out and about, Sharre and Piero taking us around the area to some fabulous places, such as the village of Montefalco, as well as the Basilica of Saint Francis in Assisi.

Meet the Saint

Saint Frances of Assisi is kind of a big deal in these parts. He lived way back in the 12th century, born into a rich family but decided to give it all up and become a monk. He is famous for having spoken to birds and wolves. I have a little bit of a theory that the man may have been a little bit cuckoo, but perhaps that’s what it takes to become a saint? Who knows. Either way, he is admired for his tireless work in preaching to communities and living in purposeful poverty. Again I say, was this man mad? Environmentalists and Greenies have him as their patron saint. He lived in this area of Italy, preaching to the folks here, and thus in following his footsteps one can get a pretty nice tour of the history of the area, especially if churches are your thing. If you don’t think they are, well, what don’t you like about dramatic atmosphere and beautiful fresco’s? What, in other words, is wrong with you? Kidding.

Montefalco

First stop on our itinerary for the day was coffee in Montefalco at the church/museum famous for its fresco’s of Saint Frances. The fresco’s are especially famous because of the fact that they were some of the first to show depth of field. Previous works were flat, whereas these looked so 3D that they fooled me into believing the decorations on the wall were real. They were painted by famous artist Benozzo Gozzoli. The imagery in that church was so beautiful, I would recommend it to anyone, especially since the whole town is kind of sleepy when it comes to tourist traffic (bar the hordes of middle-age walking tours that flooded through in too short shorts), leaving one in the silence necessary to really appreciate the place and its ambiance. If you are however not going to Italy any time soon, here’s a website I found that has all the fresco’s.

We ate lunch in Montefalco at Piero and Sharre’s regular haunt in the piazza, Federico II, right across the way from the house in which Piero had lived as a child. The menu’s came in Italian and English (how considerate!) and they even had gluten-free pasta for me! Ag, sometimes you know, I am glad when a place gets the cynical touch of tourism. A further bonus was the fact that our food was divine. I wouldn’t have expected any thing less of our hosts’ taste in restaurants.

Assisi

Don’t be a sissy and miss Assisi! Sorry for that, I couldn’t help myself. Anyways, so we left Montefalco and drove the crazy Formula one track type curvy roads that led us to Assisi. At this point I was zonked out, sleeping all the way after trying to keep my eyes open but finding they just went cross eyed and made everything double.

Assisi is like the religious capital of the area. Religious folk from around the world come here to live as monks or nuns, or merely to pay their respects to Saint Frances. Most famous in Assisi is the Basilica built for the saint, and which is unique in that it is actually two churches on top of each other. Look, they didn’t have modern architecture back then, so my guess is that they just lost track of the building process and before the builders knew what was happening, boom, two churches on top of each other. It sounds crazy to believe, but it actually works, and it isn’t too confusing to navigate. Why you’d need two churches that close to each other, however, is beyond me. I mean, I studied in a town with a church around every corner and a sect for every type of prayer, but man, none of them were so strapped for space as this.

The basilica is not just attractive to pilgrims and saint-to-be, but attracts the usual crowd of tourists as well. So expect souvenir shops and loud Caucasians in too short shorts. The scenery makes up for it, though. It is so darn picturesque. I haven’t had time to upload my own pics from the day, but let me tell you that every corner featured the perfect angle for a good shot. Here is just a google image, sorry for that.

 

Sad to say goodbye to the Pink House

Today was our last day in Umbria. Tomorrow Piero is taking me and my mother to the train station. We go off to Venice next, stopping over for a couple of hours in Florence. While I’ve been here I had the benefit of unlimited wi-fi access, but I don’t know how reliable the next few days’ internet access will be, so forgive me if you don’t read anything again for a while.

In farewell of the fair country side (that I have truly in this short time come to love and feel at home in) as well as to the two wonderful people who hosted us and treated us to such attention and love, we were over at the yellow house at sunset. This was nine pm. Champagne glasses clinked and we sighed. Snacks of left-over Risotto (the flavors had time to marry!), watermelon, green Roman olives and salad. Music as performed by Piero on his very own beautiful mini grande piano.

A fantastic end.

The terrific Todi

There’s no place like Italy
A true highlight for me today was seeing the wonderful views from atop the ancient wall surrounding the lovely village of Todi, Umbria, which we visited for lunch today.
Its hard to believe that so much of this area’s heritage stretches back into ancient times, as with Todi, which is about a thousand years old. Contrast that to Johannesburg’s buildings that have been built only within the last century or so.

Now, to fully appreciate the panoramas that we enjoyed today, allow yourself to picture the most fantastic Hollywood scenery of the Italian countryside; all rolling green hills and aged villas. Now imagine that image as ten times better and you have the real thing.

Up we go
To get to Todi,we parked at the foot of the hills on which the village is perched. Leading up the hillside is a little elevator/cable-car, into which we piled and took up. My first image of Todi as we climbed out was of the little park that opened before us, which happened to be the site of what some refer to as knitt-bombing, or the graffiti of knitting, where knit pieces are made to fit lamp posts, trees, or any other public structure. In this case it was far more creative than just that, with little knitted owls in the trees, and a woolen web spanning the park’s center, with large colorful spiders smiling from a nearby tree. So interesting,but not what you’d expect of an ancient city. More surprises were yet to come!

Stone steps, arches and ancient spaces
Being that Todi is built on the hillside, the village is rather a bit of a climb to explore, but this allows for a photographer’s dream. Leading off of almost every cobbled road is another, smaller pathway, defined by the darkened and dusty brick archway that announces its presence within the surrounding facade.
Moreover, the buildings are specimens of beauty themselves, some derelict and forgotten, others with patterns of the existence of previous doorways and windows left in their dermis. Some are painted, some are au natural.

A charming descent
Our trip to Todi accumulated with a reservation at La Scalette restaurant. Unbelievably, I was not all too hungry, but the pizzas fromthe other tables did look delicious, even if I wasn’t to taste them. Instead I tried a vegetable platter, which turned out mouth watering. It seemed that us girls were all a little bit stuffed still from the previous evening because we merely ordered veggies, while Piero chose a local soup for starters andthe meat platter for mains. My eyes were already drooping by the time we had coffee, so to get my system up and awake, I opted to walk off lunch with my mom by taking the stairs down to the parking lot from above. Its quite a steep walk, and the steps were not always in the best condition, but it was worth the effort to feel a sort of magic as we crossed down the front of the town wall, the massive trees around us, the stones beneath our feet covered in moss. One could almost imagine you were Juliet sneaking out to meet your Romeo.
Needless to say, all the drive back to San Terenziano I sat in the back with my eyes closed, ready for my siesta.

Love, from Italy

Am I really here?

Its already almost eight as I type this, but outside the birds are still singing and the sun has yet to set. Its day-light-savings time in Europe, and here in Italy the summer is well and truly underway. I can only pinch myself that I am really in Italy. Last night at around this time I was on the airport in Namibia, with still two stop-overs to go. Our route went like this: Windhoek – Frankfurt – Milan – Rome – Umbria

. Well, the last leg we did by car, with my mother’s lovely friends, Cherrie and Piero, whom she met before Piero retired from Diplomatic work and they moved to his native Italy.

A little Pink House

Cherrie and Piero have handed us the keys to a charming three bedroom house two hundred meters from their own yellow house, which they usually rent out. I can already see myself spending lazy Summer days here, out by the pool, the warm breeze bristling through the olive tree leaves. Oh, yes, if that sounds too much like fiction to you, well, guess again, because the movies don’t lie, my friend, this is Italy!  I had to rub my eyes at the sight: rolling hills of green before the soft yellow sun that hugged a horizon lazy with the day, all as seen from the garden I sat in.

Now is the time for food

Yes, Italy is the country best known for its pasta, and with our sundowner’s (the African tradition of drinking alcohol while watching the sun set) already fizzing in my bloodstream, I cannot wait for Cherrie and Piero to take us out on the town, or shall I say, the village. Although it be small, San Terenziano has many a family owned restaurant flavorful and bursting with undiscovered treasures. I cannot wait. I have quietly snuck up stairs to complete this blog, and I know that I have so much else to still write, but its all been so overwhelming that right now the basic needs have taken over and that includes hunger. To the first degree.

The city is a-sinking DAY 13 FEB 29 VENICE

Venice is amazing, man. The island city is floating. Floating, man. Its floating. No, not drifting, not hanging, not even swimming. Floating. And also, it is apparently sinking. I went to check out the parts of Venice that have been under water so many times that the streets were raised; it was so cool to see how the doorways are fixed to be protected against the water, or even replaced with smaller ones, or at some places where there are old arches, we had to bend our heads a little. Oh, the mystery, the romance! The Venetian souvenirs!

My friend Ignacio here has reminded me that I should tell his joke about Venice:

 If Jesus lived in Venice, he could go jogging everyday!

Giggle, giggle, grin.

So. As I was saying, before a Italian/Chillian man attacked me verbally for not adhering to verbal agreements pertaining to jest pre-told (excuse the High language, it is so that Ignacio cannot understand what I’m writing, man). Venice welcomed us with sunny weather and little wind. Our first glance of Venice was where we got off the boat and walked along the water to where the buildings open up onto Saint Mark’s Square, probably the most famous space in Venice, but also the most expensive. A coffee at the Florence Café and Bar costs one a light  6 Euro. Yes, and there’s no standing at the bar to drink it; you HAVE to take it sitting down. I mean, really. I’m going to come back to coffee’s in a little while, just wait for it.

From Saint Mark’s square we took part in a walking tour which took us through tiny little alley ways and past gondola’s to finally end near the Grande Canal. It was a nice overview of the city, but I needed more; I needed to see the places not often seen by the pale tourist eye. With my two trusty Chillians by my side we started on our quest for the secret Venice streets, where Casanova may once have strolled after a late night shag (or tee, you never know). First though, we had to take a break. Our tummies were growling. Popping into a little “Self-Help” café, the boys paid for pizza, I took spaghetti instead, and it was good. When our eating had concluded we again climbed our imaginary white steeds and went on our way.

But first! The shops were too distracting. We couldn’t stay away. I felt like a girl. I was a girl. Am. A girl. Lucky for me that both the boys had parcels to purchase: Pablo needed to get a present for his girl back home in South America, and Ignacio needed to get something for his friend’s unborn baby girl. We took it in turns: H&M for me, baby shop for Iggie Pop (and me!), glass store for Pablo (and me!). Ag, I had a lot of fun; the boys actually wanted my opinion on their choices! Where in the life of me has that ever happened that a MAN wants my poor lowly opinion? I was in heaven with the baby clothes and the baby clothes, you can imagine. The shops are too cute; most of them sell souvenirs, but as Venice is so well known for its glass-mastership, a lot of places sell very pretty glass products. I actually wanted to buy a perfume bottle, but there just wasn’t anything that caught my eye. There were a lot of other things though.

In Venice you’ll find some high-end stores, like Chanel, Versace and others. This had surprized me most of all; Venice does not have many residents living in it any more. Its population has slowly decreased slowly to a mere 60 000 people living there now. Its just not a very livable city anymore. Practical shops like locksmiths and groceries have been replaced with cafés and super expensive clothing stores, or cheap shops selling souvenirs. One feels pity for Venice, because today it is more like a living museum, or something of a similar kind. There aren’t many spaces in Venice that aren’t made for the tourist.

We did the touristy things: around the souvenir shops, checked out the glass-works, and even took a gondola ride (included in our Contiki package). When all that was finished and we still had three hours before our excursion dinner I decided to ask Jen where the best “non-touristy” places in Venice were. Then, trusty Chillians again by my side/following rather unenthusiastically behind, we followed our noses to the far end of the first island, walking down unmarked alleyways, past deserted apartments, over little bridges, into lonely squares and found ourselves in front of a café selling gellato. Not a complete waste, though: we saw a local carrying grocery bags, man, that’s legit.

See, although Venice has turned into a living tourist souvenir, it has still managed to hold onto its charms. The winding pathways and colorful masks, the beautiful glasses and glass figurines, it is all a part of the whole, and the whole, may I tell you, was quite a wonderful thing.

But I didn’t even see it! DAY 11 FEB 27: ROMA

Yes, I really wanted to see way more of the Roman cityscape, but sometimes things don’t go the way you expect them to or the way you planned. I had planned to spend hours in the Vatican Museum, but, like I said, sometimes things just don’t work out.

I have this very handsome friend, whom I call in fact my brother, because we share an older brother. And no, I am not talking about my real brother, Henri, I am talking about Chillian brada’ Pablo, and as he is my older brother, his younger brother is my younger brother, and thus Ignacio is my brother. Woopie! And yes, he is my younger brother, point en case. One month is still one month and that still means that I am the older one. Woopie, in the middle!

So why did my younger and older brothers abandon me today? Why did they leave me to fend for myself against the terrible wolves of Roma? Why did they go to the Vatican City without me whilest I, unable to use my stupid debit card, had to spend two hours on the phone talking to my bank? They did all of this, because, they are really nice guys and hadn’t known what I was up to… Awh. Just got a “respect fist pump” from Ignacio. But its true though: I know that on this trip if I need something, I can just ask these two blokes. Now Ignacio is looking at my post, how embarrassing. This is the kind of thing you say when drunk, man, stop looking!

Anyway, enough with the sentimental cow-dung. I got stuck in the bloody internet café whilest everyone else was galavanting through Rome. At least I got to see the stunning Colosseum, and after that the ruins of a former forum, which is the space that was used by the ancient Romans to do business in, and also just to walk around and hear the day’s gossip (they didn’t have newspapers, duh). I expected myself to go crazy with the ruins, but I just wasn’t feeling it. Maybe its just because I’m really tired from all this walking and a little overstimulated. Everyone else has gotten ill, but not me, which is great, but I guess my system is also taking a little knock just in how much energy I have. That’s the thing with these kinds of tours; you see and do so much, you don’t really ever relax. But hey, I can relax one day in my coffin, not now!

So, like I said: ruins. And then lunch. Amazing lunch. Jen took us to a tiny take-away pizza place; the slices are cut off huge squares, and you can choose more than one pizza-flavor, in the end its all weighed and that determines how much you pay. Not a bad system. Getting someone to help you though, that was not an effective system. The Italians are not very good at organizing anything, but hey, that’s not why we love them. They are by far the friendliest people I have met on the trip so far, with the people of Nice and Lucerne bringing up the rear (I’m sure you can count and have realized that we’ve only been to 4 places so far, which leaves, yes you guessed it, Paris as the least friendly place. Sorry Frenchies!).

After lunch I had to make it alone, all the way to the Internet café, spending two hours (as afore mentioned) there, cracking the phone with the strength of my will, then moving on to the less challenging option of checking out the Vatican Museum by my lonesome, which isn’t as bad as it sounds: I am so good-looking I keep myself company pretty well, man. The Sistine Chapel was a little disappointing: you hear so much about a place that you expect it to be enchanting and wonderful and everything in one, but then you get there, and its just a little chapel with a colorful roof. Out of all the churches I’ve seen, that one is my least favorite; it had no atmosphere. I guess I can understand why its like that, its always just packed with tourists and I can’t imagine that the Pope has much use for it (HAH, Catholic joke! Wap waaah). Nah, I have nothing against the Catholics, but I must say that the huge collection of nude male busts did make me wonder a little bit. I can see it now:

Man, I have to think of my sermon for Sunday: either redemption or punishment. What will I talk about? Hmmm… Ooh, and what a nice pair of buttocks we have here!

Yeah, I know I’m getting death threats… All in the name of blogging. Still, it does make you wonder, all those statues of men, I mean, why were there so few women statues, and none of them were naked. Psh.

I did the Vatican Museum like a marathon runner: pacing myself but jogging none the less. After all the excitement of all those naked men I was ready to head back home. Got a little lost though. Nothing to serious, so don’t worry, Mom and Dad. It was just that after I got off the subway its quite a walk to our hotel and at the end of it I wasn’t sure how to proceed. Usually the maps Jen hands out to us have the hotel marked out, but the one of Rome didn’t, and I also didn’t have the name of our hotel. Drama!  Yet, by pure dumb luck I had this morning somehow spotted the name Roma Park Hotel on a towel or something and remembered it. So I asked a shopkeeper to point me in the general direction, and when I again got a little stuck there was luckily a little deli open on the corner, so I asked the butcher there to help me out. Sjoe, I must really have some angels watching over me, for sure.

Back here now, sitting on the couch with Ignacio, he’s on facebook, me on my lappie. Tomorrow its off to Venice, and yeah, you are allowed to be jealous.xx