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!

berlin's enchanted ballroom...full of whimsy, widows and two wildly determined women

There is a magical place in the heart of Berlin...where widows once danced, and bombs fell, and whimsy ruled. It still does. This is Clärchens Ballhaus.

A few weeks ago, on a work trip to Berlin, I took in an afternoon tour of one of my favourite places. Whenever I have the good fortune to spend a couple of days in this fascinating city, I always try to spend a Sunday afternoon at Clärchens Ballhaus, where for over a century couples of all shapes and sizes have been coming to ballroom dance.

Marion Kiesow giving her presentation in the Spiegelsaal (Hall of Mirrors)

Back in the day, 1913 to be exact, this dance hall opened up in the centre of Berlin. It was pre-war, WWI, and Berlin was well on its way to becoming a global capital of modernization, technology and culture. The streets were full of private cars puttering around. Innovation and excitement were fueling a desire to be taken seriously; a yearning to be the next London or Paris.

And, into this heady atmosphere waltzed the neighbourhood dance hall. On the heels of the Belle Epoque era of "chanson" and the provocative caberets of Paris, Berliners flocked to dance floors around the city to sashay the nights away.

Opened in September 1913, by Fritz and Clara Bühler, Bühlers Tanzhaus quickly became known as "Clärchens", an affectionate turn on the hostess's name. Everyone was welcome to dance here. The general public in the large mainfloor ballroom, to popular tunes of the day (think Irving Berlin and Enrico Caruso), and the upper echelon of society in the upstairs Spiegelsaal (Hall of Mirrors) secretively dancing the newest craze...the Argentine Tango.

The Tango had arrived in Paris in 1905, a seductive mixture of the Habanero and the Waltz, and many other South American influences. It was an extremely sexy way for the avant-garde to express themselves behind closed doors. In November 1913 Kaiser Wilhelm II had restricted his officers from dancing the tango implying that only children of prostitutes would engage in such activity.

After the war came to an end and the city began a tough recovery period, Clärchen realized that there were far too many widows, including herself, now searching for a brief respite from reality. She began to host widows balls, personally inviting women she knew to come and dance with each other, and encouraging the few men who were still in Berlin to join them. The dance floor was full again, lonely people had reasons to smile again... the evenings were a hit.

Heinrich Zille, a very well-known Berliner satirist and illustrator spent much time at Clärchens Ballhaus, after he himself became a widower in 1919. His tongue-in-cheek depictions of the popular culture at the time and his social commentary about the common folk, to which he regarded himself as belonging, made him nationally famous in the 1920's. A few of his prints hang on the walls on the lower level of Clärchens.

The ballhaus developed a reputation for being 'ein derbes Vergnügen' (bawdy amusement), and that "no one goes home alone", with the maitre'd often warning young women, "be careful, not everyone is Prince Charming."

In 1932, Clärchen married for the second time. She had decorated the interior to reflect a sort of Japanese oasis, with Cherry blossom wallpaper covering the lower ballroom walls, while upstairs in the Spiegelsaal much remained untouched.

WWII began and the ballhaus had to close. Many difficult years followed, and much of the city was destroyed. Bombs took out the entire front area of the house, but miraculously left both ballrooms basically intact. To this day the mirrors are the original ones, with only minor cracks visible from the bombings. Most of the damage they've experienced has come from the sun.

The original chandelier which fell during the bombing, now hangs as decoration

Clärchen was innovative, and the people loved her for it. The war officially ended in May 1945 and by July the dance hall's doors were open and the ballroom was full of dancing. Berliners cleared a path through the rubble where the front house had once stood, music was played and people danced.

But, there was also the dark side of Berlin. The East. The Russian side. During the war, the Russians took over Clärchens using it for war planning meetings. After the war, the Stasi spies were in Clärchens watching and recording what Berliners were saying and doing. Only on the dance floor were they really free. Berliners needed the music, and they needed to dance. And Clärchen did everything she could to keep things moving.  

When the Russians finally cleared out of Clärchens, she was left with all of the garbage they left behind. Horses had been living in parts of the house, materials and war remnants, along with rolls and rolls of maps were left upstairs in the Spiegelsaal. Times were extraordinarily tough for Clara, so she improvised and used all of the materials she could. She cut up the maps and had her staff use them as scrap paper to write out drink and food orders.

In 1948, Clärchen found out that her husband had a daughter from a previous relationship. She came to live with them and in 1967, after working alongside her 'new' parents, she officially took over the ballhaus.

Through the decades of the cold war and the seperation between East and West, not more obvious than the imposing Berlin Wall cutting through Berlin Mitte, Clärchens survived. Berliners kept dancing, couples fell in love and got married, and over the years Clärchens Ballhaus became known as the "Wartesaals des Glücks" (the waiting room of happiness). Couples who met and fell in love at Clärchens are still a thing.

Now, Clärchens has a large beer garden out front, the main ballroom for Sunday "tanz tees" (afternoon dancing), restaurant dining and dancing (of course), and special events, such as Oktoberfesting good times. There is also a closed-in Wintergarten (below) for private functions - a room which I immediately fell in love with.

If you find yourself in Berlin, I would highly recommend you check out Clärchens Ballhaus for an afternoon beer, an evening dance or just a tour through the magical Spiegelsaal. Walking across the creaking hardwood floors where widows, soldiers and Clärchen herself have walked before, seeing your reflection in the hundred-year-old mirror that could tell a host of stories if it could, or just watching couples gliding around the dance floor free in the music, is enchanting. I personally love being in this special place and that's why I always pop in for a visit. Maybe the next time I'll stay awhile... and dance.

If you go:

Website for reservations and Marion Kiesow's tour info:  https://claerchensball.haus/en/

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

camden, london...a day of canal walks, the market, and charming hampstead

A lovely day in Camden Borough

...starting with a walk along Regent's Canal

Three weeks ago I spent a lovely London day exploring a part of the city which I didn't know...Camden Borough. I started the morning off with a walk along Regent's Canal, beginning just around the corner from Pancras Station, and heading towards Camden Town.

Along the narrow canal, I loved checking out the many whimsical houseboats, viewing the interesting waterfront architecture, and snapping the cute tunnel paths.

The Regent's Canal walk gets leafier and more colourful the closer you get to Camden Town and the market area.

The street art on tunnel underpasses, shopfronts, and stairwells is fascinating along the walk. Politically motivated (aka. Banksy) or social commentary or just plain artful, I loved the graffiti and took tons of photos.

Banksy's Missile Girl

Since moving to the Rhine over nine years ago, I have become obsessed with boat names. Some are inspiring, beautiful or just funny, and I often wonder about why the family aboard gave that vessel her name. Here, along the canal, it was no different. Promise. Hope. Molly Anna. Little Drifter. Some are homes, some are cafes, and one is even a bookstore.

I met up with a friend along the canal for a delicious Venezualan lunch at Arepas. We ate scrumptious Pernil Arepas and Cachapas (braised pork shoulder, avocado, pico de gallo, spicy mayo, onions and fresh herbs), the first a corn flour cake, the second a pancake version...both excellent, good value and so filling.

Arepas

Hampstead Town

An 8-minute ride on the Northern line from Camden Town and you're in Hampstead Town. This charming community boasts London's deepest underground platform (58 metres), gorgeous lanes and alleyways in every direction, and a very impressive list of affluence and celebrity making their home here.

I decided to check out some little antique shops along the high street. Similar to visiting garage sales or flea markets, antique shops show a side of local life that you don't normally get to see as a tourist. Antique stores hold essentially the junk of the wealthy, those items they don't want or have a use for anymore. I like that...and so I picked up an old tea cup and saucer, probably once owned by a super rich person :) When in Rome...

I took A Lady in London's advice and walked her favourite lanes in Hampstead Town: Church Row, Holly Walk, Flask Walk and Mansfield Place. Perfect recommendation. These take you on a beautiful tour of the residential area, up hills and past quaint (but surely expensive) cottages, boutique hotels and hidden pubs.

Church Row

Hampstead became fashionable in the 1700's due to its healing waters, causing upper class families to flock here. Over the following centuries, many in the intellectual, literary and art communities also made their homes in Hampstead, even though the town couldn't keep up its spa reputation against places like Bath and Cheltenham.

Holly Walk

At the top of Holly Walk you will find nice views over Hampstead's rooftops. You can't see the Heath, but it's close. Hampstead Heath is London's largest ancient parkland, according to Wikipedia, and has a great London lookout point from Parliament Hill.

I always photograph tiles like the one below, which hang above a house's front entrance. You will find these all over Europe, and as far as I understand it, they date back to the middle ages before there were house numbers, to let visitors know who the home's inhabitants were. In this case, did a polo player once live here...although polo came to London at a much later date.

Richard Burton, Aldous Huxley, John Keats, Sigmund Freud, John Constable and George Michael all made Hampstead their home, because of its proximity to London City, but its exclusive village feel. Fun fact, Hampstead has more millionaires than any other area in the UK. Whoa.

Flask Walk

I took my time meandering through the gorgeous lanes, taking photos of the interesting homes here, and enjoying a rare sunny January morning.

Mansfield Place

Then back toward High Street, where cute boutiques, cafes and pubs abound. It's the perfect place for a rest stop...a flat white or a pint, or afternoon tea.

And, this lady above one shop intrigued me. I don't know what she signifies, but the imagination could run wild about what stories this building might be able to tell...if only it could talk.

Then back to the centre of town and the tube station. By early afternoon I was ready to go back to Camden Town to explore the market and have a drink.

Camden Town & Camden Lock Market

Walking from the tube station toward Camden Lock Market feels light years away from the small-town vibe of Hampstead just 10 minutes away. It felt I had landed in 1980's New York or present day Berlin. Cool people of all walks of life are here to be seen. It is colourful and, anything but boring.

The market has a complicated history, and has changed and redefined itself many times over the past few hundred years. Its current state, since 1974 and called Camden Lock Market, boasts 28 million visitors a year! Although the actual Camden lock is not in use anymore, there are 3 dual locks on the canal which runs along the market area.

Camden Market includes the Stables Market, which is a covered series of large 'rooms' which once housed the Pickfords Stables and Horse Hospital dating back to the 1700's. The horses at Pickfords were responsible for pulling the barges up the canals, until the invention of the automobile changed the company into a van and lorry business.

Outside of the market I walked along Chalk Farm Road, looking for a bakery that was on my list to visit and taking many a pic along the way.

Soon enough, I found Luminary Bakery's Chalk Farm location. The staff were lovely, the atmosphere lively, and my scone incredibly good. I really like the story and continued mission of Luminary, which provides training and a supportive workplace for women needing a bit of sunshine in their life. I will be going back there whenever I'm in the city.

Luminary Bakery

And, to close, here is my number 1 tip for new visitors to London: skip the hop on-hop off buses and get an Oyster card and ride the real red double-decker buses! They cost a fraction and get you everywhere you want to go with the exact same view as the tourist buses. And, even if you're not quite sure where you're going, just get on and take in the views of this great city. That's what I do!

If you go:

-first of all, check out A Lady in London's blog for tips, ideas, great photos and guides to everything London. That's what I do. www.aladyinlondon.com

-get an Oyster Card for the tube and bus network. It's so easy to use, easy to load and way cheaper than any other mode of transportation. You'll get the hang of the tube in no time!

-like any city which is popular with tourists, try to find spots for tea and pub lunches and great eats where the locals go. London is expensive at any time so going where the locals go will ensure that you're getting the most for your buck (pound).