Beloved Assisi!

We leave our hotel in Torgiano this morning and take a taxi to Assisi.  We arrive to a beautiful hotel that was once a monastery just down the hill from the busy village up top.  The hotel has twelve quaint rooms and a garden where we are told all the fresh produce served in the restaurant is grown, as well as a grove of olive trees.  Our room has wooden floors and a loft above where a third person could sleep.  I use the loft area for my things and use it as a dressing room.  It’s nice to have a little extra space.  I picture a monk sleeping up in this area and using the area below for a sitting room.  There is also an updated bathroom with a shower.  The sink top area is wooden like the floors and there is a little ladder perched against the wall below the windows to hang our towels.

The views of the lands below are spectacular.  We unpack our things and take the steep walk up the hill.

I have been to Assisi before, 16 years ago, to celebrate my dear friend Faith’s 70^th birthday.  We came to attend a spiritual retreat for healthcare professionals and spent nine days in this sacred place of beauty before journeying on to Ireland.  Faith turns 86 in less than two weeks.  I find myself missing her today and begin to send her pictures, memories and love. She sends back love and memories, and true to who she is, prayers.

As I think about the 16 years that have gone by, it occurs to me that is almost a generation, that a child could be raised in that amount of time.  And then I realize, our granddaughter Sabella was eight months old when I was here with Faith.  She is now well into her 16^th year.  She is the child who has almost completely grown up since my last visit!

When we arrive to the top of the hill, I am overcome with unexpected emotion.  My soul feels at home here, truly connected to this spiritual place and the sacred days spent here with Faith so many years ago. It takes some time before the emotion subsides. I allow myself to rest in this space before it waves beyond me.

I believe I see the monastery where Faith and I stayed and the little entrance area where our group met so many times.  I tell Shawn that we were instructed to be in by 11 p.m. each night or we risked having to wake up the nuns to let us in! My room had a view of Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi.  I remember how special this was.  Faith asks me to go there and say a prayer for her.  I will do that.

The sky darkens and raindrops begin to sprinkle for a short period of time.  We welcome the coolness that comes with this.  A man slips and falls hard on a stairway.  My heart plunges as the women he is with scream out and rush to assist him and make sure that he is okay.  I hold back my own tears as I watch from the background.  Once up, he finds water nearby to wash the mud off his hands.  He walks away and I see the mud smears on the back of his white shirt.  I send a little wish of well-being as he and his companions disappear from my view.

As we walk through the village, I tell Shawn that it’s much larger than I remember, with many more shops and many more people.  Perhaps it has changed.  I am watching for a particular shop where I bought a beautiful ceramic bowl when I was here before.  I had gone into the shop for days and had come to know the owner.  I decided on a piece that she herself had painted. She was delighted and shipped it home for me. When my mother went to Assisi the next year, she also visited this lady and when she showed her my picture, the lady exclaimed to my mom, “Sheri!”  (My mother also told me that she did the same with a young jewelry shop owner, who told her he would come visit me.  She told him not to!)

We have a lovely lunch of pizza and potato leak soup with beetroot and then go to visit St. Clare Basilica.  I have a clear recollection of visiting before and also, I remember the views of the valley below from outside the basilica.

My heart is full as we take the long walk back down the hill to our monastery hotel.  We rest before joining others on the grass for evening snacks of fresh vegetables from the garden, focaccia and breaded chickpea balls.  The air is cool, the moon is out and the music is playing.  Families and friends are laughing and talking around tables near us.  Our server, Frederico, is 19 years old.  He shares a story in his best English about how he almost broke his wrist snowboarding many years ago.  He says it’s too dangerous a sport so now he plays volleyball.  He also tells us that the drinking age here is 18 but most families introduce wine to their children around age 14.  He laughs and tells us he doesn’t like wine; he prefers harder alcohol!

I order sambuca tonight, con las mosca, as I was taught to do by our server last night. Shawn tries grappa, which is especially strong, and we both agree, not entirely desirable in taste! We stroll up the steps to our cool room on the hillside and I give thanks for this beautiful, memory filled day.