Assisi

On Thursday my friend Casey from American University in Washington, D.C. and I decided that we would take the train to Assisi on Saturday and spend the day walking around and exploring one of the quintessentially 'Italian' towns that lie within a day's distance of Rome (not that Rome isn't quintessentially Italian, you understand, but Assisi looks like Franco Zeffereli's wet dream, and in fact, it's where he filmed Brother Sun, Sister Moon. An appropriate place to film St. Francis' biopic, no?)



We met at school at 7 and headed to Termini, where we stood staring confusedly at the arrivals/departures boards for a few minutes after purchasing our tickets from a friendly robot, trying to figure out which platform we needed to go to. Well, we figured it out with about ten minutes to spare, and boarded the train headed for Perugia at Platform 3.



Much to our chagrin, we couldn't find any two seats together that weren't occupied by someone's carry-on luggage. We tried three compartments before finding two seats, and sat down to enjoy the ride. Now, I had heard some horror stories from some vetrans of Trenitalia that indicated that we needed to validate our tickets or risk a good tongue lashing and some hefty fines from a curmudgeonly Italian train conductor. So I clumsily asked the woman sitting across the aisle from us dove validato (which is, incidentally, definitely not a word) bigletti? Luckily, she spoke more English than I speak Italian, and she directed us to the little yellow boxes that would punch our tickets... all the way at the other end of the platform. This just as the whistle blew. A little cliche, but we sprinted down the platform, punched our tickets like we were in a one-woman relay race and screamed back up to our compartment as the conductors were preparing to shut the doors. An exciting way to start an exciting day!

We spent the train ride to Assisi with our faces plastered to the windows as the Umbrian countryside flashed by the windows. It actually reminded me more than a little of Montana, with the mountains covered in trees and the farmland... it was oddly familiar and therefore comforting. The only difference is, Montana doesn't often have beautiful, picturesque medieval towns perched precariously on the sides of mountains... we just don't.

It was beautiful and sunny when we got to Assisi around 10:00, where we took a bus from the train station at the bottom of the hill to the medieval central (and admittedly VERY tourist/pilgrim heavy) town at the top of the hill. We decided, mostly at my urging, to dispense with buying a map and just see where we found ourselves. This actually turned out to be a good idea, and not at all risky, since Assisi is labeled on just about every street corner telling you where to find what.

Our first stop was St. Francesco, the basillica where St. Francis of Assisi is buried. To call this church beautiful would be the understatement of the century. It's beyond lovely outside, and when you go inside... there just are no words. Late medieval and early Renaissance fresco everywhere. It's so colorful and ornate (and ironically, given St. Francis's belief in the glory of God through nature, totally counter-intuitive to his message). There's a theory in Art History that has yet to be conclusively proven that Giotto, the great Tuscan master of the early Renaissance, is the painter who depicted the Life of St. Francis in the bottom chapel. Well, I'm not very educated in the inticacies of connosseiurship, but to me, you'd have to be blind as well as an idiot to not realize that this work is Giotto's. So it was a thrill for me to be able to see that.

Casey was excited, as a theater tech major, that there were some carpenters outside building a stage for a musical taking place that night, Chiara di Dio, about the life of St. Chiara. She was flipping out and wondering if she could purchase a house right then and there and stay in Assisi forever. I can't say I wasn't tempted by the same desire.

The city, with it's little winding streets and alleys that are actually just staircases, is so beautiful, with ivy and flowers growing all over the buttery stone of the buildings... but the thing that makes Assisi so incredible, besides the unbelievable amount of history of political, artistic and religious importance present in the town, are the views. I've never seen anything quite like them. Looking out over the Umbrian countryside, through the mountains and above and the blue blue sky populated by expansive masses of cumulus clouds... it's like a dream. I can't explain it any better than that. It was like flying. All day, each time we rounded a corner and were treated to a new vista, I couldn't help but gasp. Though it might be funny for me to say, given my chosen profession and area of specialty, I think I agree with St. Francis about where God can really be found.

We ate lunch gaping like fish out over one of these beautiful views from a terrace at a restaurant close to the top of the hill. The food was delicious, but we had an epic battle with two wasps, in which I and my chosen weapon of a fork ultimately prevailed. We decided that there is a reason why you're given two forks when dining al fresco: one is for bees, and the other is for the delicious food. I had linguine in a cream sauce with salmon. The revalation of this dish: black pepper. It actually tastes like something! Not only that, it actually made the dish. I will never be disparaging or underestimate its powers again. Casey had lamb, and that was also wonderful, and we split a liter of the house red. When we got up from the table, we were a little giddy from the view and the food, but I don't think the wine helped, either.

We giggled our way to a piazza where, with the help of some gelatto, we soon decided we were up to climbing to the Rocco Maggiore, the old fortress that protected Assisi. Lots of terrifying little staircases with steep and well-worn steps, and wind that would make Great Falls blush with inadequacy... we had a grand old time. After visiting some of the other churches around Assisi, we spent the rest of the evening people watching (and in Casey's case, stage-hand watching) by San Francesco, watching the sun go down, bright pink, behind the mountains.

We took the bus back to the bottom of the hill and decided, with the irony which make life worth living, that our trip to this authentic little town in the heart of Umbria would not be complete without a trip to McDonalds. Yeah... but we spent so much on lunch that it seemed silly to splurge on dinner. Also, McDonalds in Italy is so much classier. There were long gossamer-looking curtains at the windows and culturally significant artwork on the walls... McDonalds in the States needs to step up its game. Also: patates West. Waffle fries. Why the heck don't we have those in the States. Delicious.

We spent the train ride home watching The Office on Casey's iPod and yawning from all the stairs, the wine and the emotional highs of the day. Then we took the bus back through centro, passing along the way the still not-quite-real site of the Colloseum illuminated at night. I came back to the apartment and plopped into bed and didn't move until the church dismissal bells woke me at 11 this morning. I love Italy.