Welcome to Assisi

I have so much to write I don't even know where to start. I'm just back in my medieval hotel (I'll tell you about it later) from my first night in Assisi. It's 10:30 pm Italy time and I am smitten.

Assisi is my favorite place so far by far. And yes, I'm a little tipsy, but not so you'd notice....well maybe you would. Anyway...

I got checked in this afternoon. This was not easy. It was more difficult than driving the nutsy little road I took to get from The Middle of Nowhere, Umbria, to a highway heading northish. Arriving in Assisi was insane. My Google directions gave up just as I hit town. By and by, after a few wrong turns, a correct turn that I gave up on, and a man who gave me a cappucino, I found my hotel. If you look just to the right of center in the photo below, you'll see a staircase: that goes to my own personal private patio, which is more a porch, really, but still.

I got unpacked, sort of, had a nap although it only lasted ten minutes because I was so hyper from Assisi and the cappucino, and went Out.

The first thing I did was make a beeline to the Basilica di Santa Chiara, a block from my hotel. The Basilica was drop dead unbelievable--I'll tell you about that later too. I have photos even though, as I was leaving, I happened to notice the "no photos" sign, but as you know, that's normal.

I strolled in a saintly daze to the Piazza del Comune, where I wandered about gawking like a tourist and taking more photos. As thunder rumbled all around and an occasional raindrop fell, I sat at a table under a huge square umbrella, ordered a glass of Umbrian golden-white wine, and people-watched.

Eventually, I got hungry. Earlier, I had spotted a small pretty restaurant up a flight of picturesque stairs from the Piazza, and I decided to try Ristorante La Fortezza. I was a bit early for dinner in Italy, but there were a few other tables occupied, so I went in and was given a table and a menu by a little man with a big pointy nose and a suit. I ordered red wine. He brought me a taste of Pinot Nero. I didn't like it. He squinted at me. He brought me a taste of another one, 80% sangiovese, a Salviano riserva, I believe. I nodded, then he nodded, then he poured me a very full glass.

After perusing the menu, I ordered a bottle of mineral water, canneloni with chicken and pork in tomato cream sauce, and an insalata mista.

Like a good Italian, I ate the canneloni first and the salad, drenched in a divine local olive oil, after.

Meanwhile, the long table beside me with fourteen chairs began to fill with assorted people that looked to be una famiglia. As they arrived, in twos and threes and fours, I began to make a game of trying to figure out how they were all related. One of the first to arrive was a very tiny woman who looked to be in her nineties at least. Other women came in with her or just after, one with a little girl. Then arrived the teenagers, one more gorgeous than the next, who chose an end of the long table and immediately took out their phones. Next came some men. They got themselves all sorted into position and began to order, as Italians do, immense quantities of food.

I continued to eat. That woman, I was sure, is a daughter of the beautiful old lady. That one is another daughter. That one is a husband. That one, I'm pretty sure, is not married to that one because he's too interested in what she has to say. That middle-aged woman is the grandmother of the little girl. I know that because the little girl calls her "nonna". And that man, the one who is talking to the woman who is not his wife, is the grandpa. The stunning teenage girl with the phone is the daughter of the woman he is talking to. The fabulous teenage boy beside her is her brother. The other teens must be cousins. And so it went.

Meanwhile, the very old woman and I were having a bit of a flirtation/communication, all in body language and facial expressions. The first occurred when our eyes met as the teenagers were all texting and showing their phone screens to one another. We shrugged and raised our eyebrows and shared "kids will be kids" smiles and were friends from then on. Several more occasions arose when our eyes and smiles met, as I ate my very delicious meal and she pecked at the appetizers arriving by the plateful at their table. I was still speculating on relationships.

The little man in the suit attended me coolly but well. I saw a hint of a smile once, but he hid it as soon as realized it had surfaced. He suggested a glass of Passito di Sangrantino, a red dessert wine, to go with my panna cotta. I acquiesed, gracefully.

I was paying my check when a break occurred at the family table. Between courses, I imagined. Five or six of them, different generations, rose and went out to the cobbled walkway in front of the restaurant, some seating themselves on the stairs and lighting cigarettes. I Visa-ed my bill and paid the tip in cash (as one does here) and walked out the door.

Then I just couldn't help myself: I walked over to the group and asked if anyone spoke English.

Faces lit up immediately, and they answered in a bit of Italian, a bit of English, that yes, someone still inside was fluent in English. Someone else fetched her. She turned out to be the stunningly beautiful older teenager...who turned out to be the daughter of the beautiful woman I thought was her mother...who turned out to be Mexican.

Pretty soon nearly everyone was outside and we were talking a mile a minute in three languages. Oh, they had questions! Where was I from? Was I a photographer? And oh, were they excited when I explained that I'd been taking pictures of the food because I have a blog! They asked for the website and I gave them my very last business card (idiot that I am. Why did I not bring more?? They went like pizza slices at 2 in the afternoon).

The younger teenage girl, also heartbreakingly beautiful, wants to be a writer. If she wrote to me, would I write back? You bet, sweetie. No question at all about that. One of the mammas poked her head out the door and said their secondi piatti had arrived, so we all kissed and hugged and promised to be in touch, and I began the descent back to the hotel.

Suddenly I remembered: shit!! I forgot to take a picture! So I did a u-turn and hiked back up slopes and stairs (boy, are my legs getting good in these hill towns) to La Fortezza.

By the time I got back, several of the teens were finished and outside in the alley again. They grinned and greeted me, and I told them to get back inside so I could take their photos. They did it, too, sweetly. At the door of the restaurant, I could see that all the plates were now empty, doubtless soon to be replaced with full ones. The whole family smiled with delight when I walked back through the door, camera in hand, accompanied by the teenagers. Several took out their own cameras and phones, and we had a photo fest followed by more farewells and more kisses, naturally.

In case you're wondering, I got around 70% of the relationships right. The family explained them all to me, but the truth is I was so tickled by the conversations that I didn't really pay that much attention. My worst miss was that the tiny matriarch at the table wasn't anyone's mother. She was an aunt, a great-aunt, and a great-great aunt to nearly everyone there.

It didn't matter a bit, of course. It was only a game, and my favorite kind of game, at that: the kind where everybody wins.

Comments

[Char]

OMG, I loved this! I love the picture of you and the Auntie and all the famiglia...I love that you are in Assisi...You are not alone at all...and I am with you! Thanks for taking us! xoxo

[Sheri]

awesome

[King Jeribus]

I love the pictures of Assisi, architecturally, culturally, romantically, sure anyone would want to spend a lifetime there for a day. And all that glorious food, you make us all so jealous.

He still thinks you are traveling alone. Told you he never checks his statements.

[Candice]

You are so dead on, Travis. I've been pondering the same a lot. Of course there are those moments that one wants to share immediately...but this blog and emails to/from friends have eased that. Meanwhile, the freedom of following my nose and my intuitions is divine, and those interactions you understand so well are the very reason I am traveling the way I am in Italy.
I will surely have more to say about this in a future post!
Grazie, il mio amico.
xo
C

[Travis]

Great piece! This made me think about why I LOVE traveling alone. When you're traveling alone, you have zero distractions from your traveling companion and/or partner. You have a heightened sense of curiosity and are led only by your most sincere interests. And at the same time, the human appetite for social interaction breaks down any and all fears or barriers that might otherwise exist (not that YOU have any). When I'm traveling solo, I have no choice but to put myself out there. And good things almost always come from that. What a family you met!