assisi, italy...fountains, frescoes & St. Francis

Assisi

There is a place...a sacred place, tucked away into the hills of Umbria. Some would say it's a holy place.
It is the small chapel which St. Francis rebuilt with his own two hands. Where he wrote and prayed and figured out a path for his life, and many others.

St. Francis was by all accounts an interesting fellow. Born wealthy, he was a playboy, loving the lavish lifestyle known at the time. What changed his life was, what impacts most of us, meeting others who influence or make an impression on us, and a shocking life experience such as an accident or illness.

The hilltop town of Assisi

 

St. Francis, born in the late 1100's with the name Giovanni which his mother gave him, and soon renamed Francesco by his father, had a few influencing encounters with beggars and pilgrims which he wrote about, was then taken prisoner in 1202 while in the military, whereupon he became quite ill. In the following years he began to re-evaluate his life's meaning and purpose, which didn't suit his father one bit. There was much conflict between the two and Francesco turned his back on his father's money, and began a life of service to those in need.

 

He spent most of his time in and around Assisi, the incredibly charming hilltop town in central Italy. The narrow lanes are lined with geranium-filled pots hanging from windowsills and dotting doorsteps. Modern-day pilgrims flock to here to visit the Basilica di San Francesco d'Assisi where his tomb was discovered buried beneath in 1818.

While the basilica is impressive, and the views alone are for sure worth a visit, I was mostly interested in finding the stone chapel which St. Francis built and where he spent most of his time, and where he gathered with his followers, officially beginning the Franciscan Orders in 1209.

It took a little while. Most guidebooks and signs point people to the imposing basilica atop of the town. But, the chapel lies just outside of Assisi, on what was once empty fields far (by foot) from the town. Called the Porziuncola, you will find it inside the Basilica of Saint Mary of the Angels which was built in the late 1500's enclosing the chapel, most likely to protect it and the legions of Franciscans who visit it.

It really is incredible inside. I'm not Catholic, but I was moved to tears being within the tiny Porziuncola's stone walls, knowing that St. Francis built these with stones he collected in Assisi, that here he heard God's direction to devote his life to the poor, and that here he wrote his famous words which have long been hanging on my wall:

"Make me a channel of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me bring love

Where there is darkness, only light
And where there's sadness, ever joy

Grant that I may never seek
So much to be consoled as to console,
To be understood as to understand,
And to love."

The Franciscan Orders follow the teachings of St. Francis, but also those of St. Clare of Assisi, who was one of St. Francis's closest friends. She wrote the first set of monastic guidelines written by a woman. She reminds me a great deal of Hildegard of Bingen...another early power frau who commanded the attention of the men of the time with her intelligence and thought...and whose writings are still revered today.

Perugia

Piazza IV Novembre

 

A short drive from Assisi, about 30 minutes, is the university town of Perugia. It is the capital city of the province of Perugia and is a bustling place with lots of young people (obviously), lots of cafés and restaurants, and much interesting architecture. Walking around this hilltop city for a day, or an afternoon, will not be boring.

 

One of my favourite Renaissance painters, Raphael, was mentored in Perugia, and painted some of his paintings and frescoes here, but unfortunately none of them are here anymore. Still, the atmosphere of art and culture thrives here, as if it is in the bones of these incredible buildings. There are a great many festivals which take place here and exhibitions...so much to do, so little time.

Palazzo dei Priori

 

Along with watching a wedding party descend from the Palazzo dei Priori in the centre of town for a good long while, I couldn't help but take a lot of photos, as inconspicuously as possible, of the glamourous Italians. I can't help myself in Italy. They have a style like no others...unaffected and assured, like the French, but without looking like they're trying at all. A woman I met in Milan once told me, without being the least bit arrogant about it, that they grow up dressing with style...it's in their blood...they just can't help looking this good. I kind of loved that.

 

If at all possible, and I've said this before about Venice, try staying in any Italian town you're visiting until after dark. Experiencing the sights and smells (oh the smells!) while walking past the osterias, trattorias and ristorantes amidst these ancient stone buildings is always an incredible treat. And, it goes without saying, you absolutely need to eat...like everywhere! There's nothing better...

 

except maybe the view!

bologna, italy...a pilgrim's journey towards faith and food

"Bologna is a city of porticos. They are our bridges, which unite and facilitate encounter and journeying." - Archbishop Zuppi

As I lean against the stone wall which encircles the Sanctuary of the Madonna di San Luca, located on a hilltop just outside of Bologna's city cenre, I notice a small, elderly woman on a bench close to me, hunched over a worn leather book. I couldn't tell what book it was, but her dedicated, focused manner makes me guess it was the Bible. She was no tourist. She was a regular here...this place meant something to her.

This is, afterall, a site devoted to the Madonna, who not just tens of thousands of travellers a year pilgrimage to, but also locals...some weekly, some monthly, some yearly.

The way here is beautiful. One of the most serene and special I have ever had the pleasure of taking. The sanctuary is linked to the historic old town by the Portico di San Luca, one of the world's longest covered walkways, at almost four kilometres long.

A UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Portico di San Luca has 666 vaulted arcades, symbolizing the devil, and Mary's ultimate protection from him, encompasing 15 chapels along the way, dedicated to the Mysteries of the Rosary.

Now, I'm not Catholic, so I can't really go into much detail about these mysteries, sufficed to say that stopping to take note of the weathered artwork on the walls, behind the metal protective grates, the notes and flowers, the burnt-out candles on the ground and the drawings afixed onto the bars, made me acutely aware of the significance this path has for some.

Since 1433 dedicated folk have walked here, carrying the icon of the Madonna with Child to and from Bologna's Cathedral of San Pietro, and I wanted to walk here too.

This got me thinking about my journeys, pilgrimages, if you will: the journey towards a sacred or special place. I did very intentionally plan for this particular walk, from one of Bologna's twelve gates of its ancient wall, the Porta Saragozza, to the hilltop church, wanting to take the time to reflect on the path in life I was taking, and what changes or decisions I needed to be making.

It was an incredible afternoon guided by the faithful expanse of rolling forests and fields which surround northern Italy's gorgeous Bologna. I can't say that I solved all (or any) of my problems that day, but the decision to make this journey, and following through with it, gave me the confidence to embark on further journeys that were to come. And, allowed me to reminisce on where I had been...

Just over 20 years ago, I spent a summer in the Austrian Alps taking incredible days-long journeys up mountains, down into caves, and towards a better understanding of who I was and wanted to be. The process of reaching the destination each evening, as much as we revelled in reaching the warmth and promise of a great meal the mountain huts gave us, was the part that stands out as most special in my mind. I did a lot of growing on those tough craggy trails and klettersteig climbs...figuring myself out in the aftermath of a young marriage and super-young divorce, how to forgive and heal and look towards the path ahead, while looking down from cross-adorned peaks. The work that is done on your heart and mind when you're enduring the tough journey, that is what builds character and definition. But, the choice to take the journey is surely just as important, because without that decision there is just netflix and chill...nowadays anyways.

But, what about the regular, dedicated journeys that we make, or should be taking, in our 'normal' lives - not just the big, exciting Camino di Santiago-type pilgrimages? For example, I have a dear friend who almost daily walks up his suburban, tree-lined street towards a large, mostly empty church, just to sit in silence and think. He's a great teller of stories, and I'm sure it is because he deliberately  and intentionally, with care, takes the time to ponder the state of the world he lives in and his place in it, so that he can put down in words in such illuminating ways what he sees and feels.

I have come to two conclusions:

That it is this making-of-space for thought and reflection and silence, whether on an empty church pew, or in a field of grass, or on a mountaintop, that is definitely important in creating a sense of calm within our incredibly distracted lives, and in figuring out who we are and who we should be in this ever-strange world we live in together...a destination we should all be so lucky in reaching.

But also, that the decision to take the journey (any journey), and actually faithfully putting one foot in front of the other, as we embark on the path, trusting in ourselves that we have packed everything we need in order to go forward; whether it's towards a new relationship, towards healing an old one, towards a new career path, or towards getting to know our neighbour or community, or towards healing ourselves and finding calm, the decision to take the first step and continuing each day is surely the vital part of any journey.

As far as destinations go, Bologna is a great place to trek to. It is a city which, firstly, esthetically, looks different from other Italian cities (not that the others all look similar, of course, but this one stands out).  Bologna is painted in a patina of rust-coloured red, including the Due Torri (two towers) which are visible from almost every vantage point.

People are friendly here. They have been used to travellers and visitors since basically the beginning of time. The city is the centre of pretty much all major crossroads in Italy; between Venice and Genoa, between Florence and Milan, and lies directly on the path northwards from Rome to the rest of continental Europe. Bologna has always been a very important trade city, and one of the wealthiest in Italy due to its vital role in agriculture, finance and industry.

It is one of the oldest cities. Period. Bologna's historic old town is Europe's second largest - for that alone it's worth the trip! But, it is also home to, some say, the oldest university in the world, although a local I had dinner with here implied that Ferrara's university, an hour away, should actually hold that title.

Nevertheless, Bologna's oldest university building, the Archiginnasio of Bologna is incredibly beautiful, and houses the anatomical theatre and municipal library, which was originally created to hold the books collected after Napoleon ordered the closure of all religious orders.

Bologna is the capital of my favourite Italian region, Emilia-Romagna, also known as Italy's 'bread basket' because it's the origin of some of the world's best food (IMO). Bolognese sauce, Parmigiano Reggiano, Prosciutto di Parma, balsamic vinegar (Modena!), to name a few, and a whole host of delicious pastas, including lasagne, cappelletti and stuffed tortellini.

Driving or training (that's how I did it) on a food pilgrimage, beginning in Parma, through Modena, and ending in Bologna, will give you a tasty journey like no other. Wander through narrow streets lined with small shop fronts filled with hanging salami and mortadella and counters of freshly-made pasta, or sit in a cozy trattoria and eat what the locals eat. Try ordering a plate of parmigiano reggiano when you first arrive, which will be served with a small pot of honey and Aceto Balsamico Tradizionale di Modena, to get into the gastronomical groove for your tour...that's what I did, and oh my...

For a truly authentic faith and food pilgrimage, try treking part of the Via Francigena from the Swiss Alps down to Rome...like the Romans did. Along the way, you will have much time to reflect on your life's journey while also passing directly through Emilia Romagna. You can taste test your way through Italian favourites...it's on my list!

I hope that by the end of my life (though hopefully it won't be take me that long) I will have found the dedication and thoughtfulness to not only go forth on the big journeys, but like the old woman on the bench, or my friend in the empty church, to embark on the smaller ones. To take the time in my day to read and reflect and think...to make the decision and to follow through with it like a ritual or pilgrimage. And if, like the old woman, my path leads me under a long, beautiful covered walkway, protecting me from the elements, I hope that I will never lose faith and will trust, as the Bolognese do, that something, possibly Mary, is always there watching over me.

Italy, especially the northern regions, has been heavy on my mind the past few months, as they have been one of the worst hit areas of the Covid-19 pandemic. I'm thinking of you, bella Italia, as you begin to heal and recover, and I look forward to visiting again soon. You are a special place.

(borrowed from an ad seen somewhere in Emilia-Romagna)

If you go:

Watch the incomparable Anthony Bourdain's great Emilia-Romagna episode...and drool.

https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x5wyx3h

palermo...sicily's golden child and the birthplace of cosa nostra

Perched on the northwest corner of what looks like the giant rock Italy's boot is trying to kick away Palermo is the Island of Sicily's beautiful capital.

I didn't know much, or anything for that matter, about Sicily before I visited recently, but its rich blend of Arabic, Spanish, French and, of course, Italian influences became very clear to me as we walked towards Piazza Castelnuovo on our way to the Ballarò Market. I'm a lover of all things market related and reading about this one was shamefully the extent of my research.

But, long before we arrived at the Ballarò we encountered a host of wonderful sights and sounds as this fascinating and somewhat mysterious city opened itself (only partially) to greet us.

Aspects of Palermo reminded me of the grand, somewhat neglected mainland cities of Spain, such as Cadiz on the Atlantic coast (also one of my favourite historic centres). The streets of Palermo reek of story. There is a sense of daunting, a mix of beauty and foreboding, which could in all fairness have something to do with realisation that this is the birthplace of the mafia. The horse head in the bed. The Don. The Pizza Connection.

Of course Palermo is much more than its 200-year-old mafia story. It is one of the oldest cities I've been fortunate enough to visit, and its confluence of architectural styles, dating back to 734 BC, impressed me enough that I quickly realized I missed most of the important details as a result of my market obsession (thus I have borrowed some photos from someone who knew better).

Palermo Cathedral

Honestly, Palermo's history is confusing and so I won't begin to try and explain the numerous sources of design and cultural significance, except to say that if you were a church builder back in the 12th century then you would've had a boom in business to rival most other centuries. The youngest of four of the most incredible churches built in Palermo between 1132 and 1185 is the Palermo Cathedral, which is impressive enough just from the outside.

Quatto Canti

Before I get into the nuts and bolts of the three churches I want to focus on, let me just say that if you make it to Palermo you must take five minutes and see Quattro Canti - the most impressive four corners of an intersection you will ever see. The piazza splits two main streets with four Baroque buildings, almost identical, taking over each of the corners. 

The four fountains at ground level represent the four seasons, then come each of the four Spanish kings of Sicily, topped off by Christina, Olivia, Agata and Ninfa, Palermo's four patronesses. I stood as close to the centre of the intersection as I dared in order not to get run over by a fiat or vespa, and began slowly rotating, taking few photos but many deep breaths, trying to absorb the 4 most beautiful corners of two streets I had ever seen.

Cappella Palatina

The Cappella Palatina is a highlight on any Palermo tour, and the panormiti (as the locals are known) would surely echo this statement. It's a fairly small chapel with much gold, built by the Norman kings as part of the palace grounds, but incorporating a mixture of fascinating styles. A Byzantine dome, Arabic arches, Norman architecture, Christian artwork and Greek inscriptions create a true 'east meets west' creation. 

The chapel is a mosaic masterpiece, with such intricate detail on every surface that one can really spend an inordinate amount of time in this humbly-sized church. But, if you look up you will also experience something remarkable. An Islamic style of design which is sometimes called a 'honeycomb vault', used in ceilings throughout Persian architecture and called 'Muqarnas', the Palatine Chapel showcases this feature beautifully. The vaulting is solely ornamental but unique in adorning special interiors throughout arab-influenced areas, such as Morocco, Spain, Iraq and Egypt.

Scenes of Christ's life, along with prophets and saints adorn the dome's ceiling in glorious visions of embellished gold.

We made our way through narrow lanes to the Ballarò, one of Palermo's bright markets, which wasn't as easy to find as I thought. There wasn't a trail of tourists filing in and out of the side streets making their way to this 'attraction' which was, of course, in the end a great thing.

Under the tarp and awning-covered stands we found mostly locals buying colourful vegetables, fruit and much fish, like Sicilian favourites, swordfish or octopus.

The narrow streets are almost as colourful as the oranges, tomatoes and artichokes in the Ballarò. Laundry (which I love) hangs cavalierly over balconies and on washing lines from most apartments, alongside potted plants and neglected window shutters. Scan downwards towards street level and more colour greets you with bold graffiti adorning most surfaces.

That there is a host of activity taking place away from the naive eyes of tourists, akin to a seedy underbelly of the normal day-to-day life here in Sicily, is not difficult to imagine.

Located also in the heart of Palermo, just around the corner from the Quattro Canti, in Piazza Bellini lies the Church of San Cataldo. Also built in the 1100's under Norman rule, San Cataldo is a bit different than your typical European churches.

Church of San Cataldo

It is a pure homage to Norman-Arab architecture, without many of the opulent trimmings used to embellish places of worship at the time.

The San Cataldo invites you in and holds you once inside, with its naked walls, high arches and bulging domes. One can focus on the minutiae of life's circumstance (if one chooses to do so) without getting sidetracked by lavish gold altars or traumatic frescoes. Spending time in here feels like you've walked into a more primitive, feudal era...much more dangerous than just the Sicilian mafia.

Onwards to one of the oldest and most interesting of Palermo's churches, due to its host of various influences over the centuries, the Martorana.

Martorana

Where the San Cataldo was naked, the Martorana is draped in gold and dressed in a wonderful blend of 12th century Byzantine mosaics and 18th century Baroque frescoes. Across the piazza from the San Cataldo (why each city needs so many churches is beyond me!) and built about 20 years earlier, the Martorana will steal a good bit of your time if you pay it a visit.

Between the 14th and 16 centuries, the Martorana was run by Benedictine nuns who took great care in modifying and enhancing large portions of the interiour. Rumours say that the church was then abandoned for a couple of hundred years, reopened and then adorned with sweeping pastel frescoes by Guglielmo Borremans.

The Greek cross design of the church highlights the Byzantine mozaics, along the likes of  Jesus bestowing the crown of Sicily upon the head of King Roger II or George of Antioch lying at the feet of the Virgin Mary.

While the later frescoes are said to have little artistic value, the Islamic influences on the culture of Norman Sicily, are impressively noticeable from the Martorana's early years. One such imposing element is the Christ Pantokrator, a traditional Greek image, which holds court in the Martorana's dome ceiling. Make sure to look up.

While meandering through the narrow side streets and across the palm-tree-lined piazzas, we stopped often to snap pics of dramatic doorways and fountains; harkening back to a time when a different type of godfather ruled Sicily, when the capo di tutti capi was named Roger or George, not Toto or Salvatore, but where allegiance was every bit as important. A lot has happened on these streets.

Palermo's fascinating history, its interesting blend of architectural influences, its many world heritage sites honouring the cultural impact these ruling factions had on Sicily, and its abundant culinary offerings, ensure that I will be back again. A road trip across this island is on my (now very long) list of things to do. I hope it's on yours too...it won't disappoint, capiche?