Incredible Iceland

This place; it is amazing. No adjectives can do it the justice that it deserves. A young slice of earth geographically, it feels ancient. Perhaps all the more because it is so young, it carries a remembrance of what earth must have looked like millennia ago. I imagine dinosaurs crossing the dark ashen grounds, the mountains beyond capped with white, clouds striping the sky above.

A rugged earth stretched ahead of us, dipping and sweeping below the horizon that seemed to go on for eternity. My mind roamed, looking for words to describe it. What equivalent is there? The landscape feels fit for a fairy tale, the perfect setting for an other-wordly film or fantasy.

The summer sun sets here at eleven. That gives us ample time to explore the beautiful surrounds. We started slowly. The day had broken long before, and it seemed unnatural to get up later, with the sun so high already. It played peek-a-boo with the clouds all day, jumping out from behind the fluffy whiteness and dappling us in its warmth, then dissapearing again. We enjoyed the light when it was there, but the cloudyness nonetheless added a certain drama. Only at evelen a.m. did we eventually begin our drive. By then some had already made an exploratory walk to the small waterfall that feeds the river running alongside our camp. It is idyl.

High up in the mountains, we drove alongside massive glaciers, the white of their snow emphasised by brown streaks that framed the volumptiousness of it all. The mountains, of course, black as soot, as ash, spewed across the landscape from the bowls of the earth, from volcanoes’ ruptured centuries ago, or just a few years. You remember the ash cloud that covered Europe in 2011? It was from a volcano right here in Iceland. We drove through the area yesterday, on our way to our camp. The farming community is still active, with the only semblence of a natural disaster the fresh museum irriged in honour of Mother Earth’s vengeful volcanic strength.

Some places we were the only people, others we were part of a crowd. The dissapointment of Iceland is that so many others have found its charm. They flock in tour busses, as if to see the leaning tour of Pisa, or the Eiffel, no account for how their vehicles could have dared the dark and difficult roads. What they do not know, however, is that the true beauty of this place is when the sun dips low. The magic lies in those places, far from hot springs and gazers, where there is no other soul except your own, where the land you stand on is high up and the air around you is in cloud. That is the world we claimed for ourselves tonight.

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.