Assisi
Catching the train from Florence to Assisi gives the gift of 3 or so hours to see the wondrous Italian countryside. Streams of water dance across pebbled riverbeds, scurrying through the trees that stand guard from the rivers’ edge.
Houses litter the countryside, in various states of evolution from the youth of construction, the middle-ages of habitation through to the silent and beautiful abandoned ruins crumbling into old age in the midst of a field, slowly returning to the earth.
Cattle wander aimlessly through pastures, their attention focused on the lush green grass, whilst flowers bloom outwards from the soil, drunk on the sunshine that falls on their pretty heads.
Arriving in Assisi, the train station is small and despite the fact that there are not many people on the platforms, or in the station itself, the station’s coffee shop is buzzing with the cheerful chatter of locals awaiting their next caffeine hit, the hiss of the coffee machine, the clatter of dishes.
Stepping out of the station, into a piazza, there are cars and taxis coming and going. A wide straight roads brushes past the front of the station, porting the traffic and its human contents to various destinations. But straight ahead, oh what a sight.
A road runs from the mouth of the station to a large mountain bursting from the earth. Covered in white buildings like crazy rows of teeth, the nimbus clouds that give the sky a calming Sunday feel break to let spears of sunlight photosynthesise the historical centre of Assisi.
From the station, it is a short drive to the historical centre. Roads swirl around the mountain, narrowing to impassable passages. Bars and restaurants peep out from underground and hotels sit on the edges of the mountain so that morning coffees are sweetened with the spectacular views over the countryside.
You’re in Assisi to see churches and walk through the streets that are dedicated to the city’s most famous citizen, St. Francis. Born here in 1182, you can see his clothes and shoes, as well as his final resting spot in the Basilica di San Francesco. Here is also the sight of some artworks that revolutionised the idea of perspective in art, in their representation of Jesus as a human figure and in the way in which classes and races were depicted together. Bringing to the poor illiterate population the stories of the bible, to be here now and see the colours, the architecture depicted, and the evolution of perspective brings its own perspective to the history with which you are surrounded here.
From this church, the city streets wind upwards and upwards, corkscrewing around the mountain edge. Along the way, one dilly dallies through the narrow cobble-stoned streets which open into spacious piazzas, in each of which crouches one magnificent church after another. The Basillica di Santa Chiara was built in the 13th century, and features a white and pink stone facade that seems almost edible. The Chiesa Nuova (literally, ‘new church’) takes it name by the fact that is 400 years younger than that of Santa Chiara. Once a temple, the church of Tempio di Minerva is another stop along the way to the peak of the city.
Restaurants and coffee shops centrifuge around the streets also. Stopping for a lazy lunch, saving just enough room for an afternoon cup of steaming liquid chocolate that sticks to the lips in a delicious kiss. Shortbread biscuits crumble into the mouth and give the afternoon a delightful sugar-buzz as you work your way, onwards and upwards, through Assisi.
In between the visits to the churches, the streets burst with quaint little stores selling handmade products as they have done for centuries. Wooden spoons and hand-printed aprons, ceramics brushed with images of the stunning undulating hills in the surrounds, wines squeezed from the vineyards that stroke the countryside in parallel lines, and food stuffs that have been made this way since before grandma’s grandma was a girl.
Stopping at one of the piazzas with views over the edge of the city, the sun slowly slides down the face of the sky, falling into the bed of the mountains in the distance. On its way, it smears the horizon in an array of pinks and oranges that one can only attempt to capture with a camera, but that will always be in the mind’s eye for being so spectacular.
The icing on the cake of Assisi is the Rocca Maggiore - a fortress that sits like a final tier on the city. Walking up here just as the nighttime falls like black chiffon over buildings below, the white bricks of the fortress are lit by spotlights and the silence of the surrounds hums rhythmically. Looking out over the city and beyond is a moment of beauty and tranquility. The stars twinkle joyfully in the black sky, there is not a sound to be heard from the city below.
In fact, returning to the city streets, one finds a quiet town, the last of the shops closing, restaurant windows framing views of diners happy and full on the wondrous food and lulled into sleepy satisfaction by the melatonin-rich red wine.
Spying a local and asking for advice on a nice bar, you may be lucky enough to wander down a narrow cobbled street to find a small night spot emanating a yellow light that defrosts the cool blue of the nighttime. Entering within, the lively jazz and the chitter-chatter of the still-spirited locals is as intoxicating as the wine.
But exiting the bar, the streets are again silent and deserted. The walk back to the hotel is buoyed by the lingering jazz tune that accompanies you home, swishing away inside your eardrums, and spilling out onto the crisp linen of your soft pillow as you doze off to sleep, tired and content.
Tags: florence, italy, school, tuscany cooking class, wine class
