I Left My Heart in Assisi

Everybody knows the beauty of Tuscany. The rolling hills sprinkled with villas, vineyards, ruins, art. It is famous. In fact, I just finished reading “Under the Tuscan Sun,” which I picked up from an English bookstore here in Florence, since I felt that it was culturally important to be familiar with such a well known story. Although I did not realize that the book and the movie are so different. Anyway, my point is, Tuscany is famous.

Umbria is not. And why, I have no clue. As far as I’m concerned, it is the unknown gem of Italy. Granted, I haven’t exactly seen all of Italy. But I was completely unprepared for the beauty I found there. Umbria is a region in central Italy, just south of Tuscany. We made our way there to its capital Perugia last weekend for the European Chocolate Festival, which the city was hosting. Delicious. Overwhelming and crowded. Fun. But I was struck by how beautiful the city itself was. We had a beautiful panoramic view of the city: small, spread out, and sprinkled with fields and trees and greenery throughout the valley. Gorgeous old buildings, enough so that it felt like a large town, but that it still felt like it was half in the countryside.

We hadn’t been able to find a hostel in Perugia for the first night of this chocolate festival, so we ended up staying at Hostel Sul Lago, on Lago Trasimeno, about a fifteen minute train ride out of the city. We got there late, and had to leave early the next day, so we didn’t see much of the area, but we did manage to fit in a bike ride before we left Sunday morning (they had free bikes!). We woke up at 7:30, and hurriedly got dressed. Since the lake was surrounded by hills, it was light out but the sun wasn’t quite over the crest of the hills yet, so we biked in the pale, rosy light of dawn around the edges of this lake, surrounded by fields and meadows and beautiful trees. The trees were just shading themselves with golden yellow of autumn, and a fisherman was pulling up with his catch, a crowd of birds following him. Across the lake I could see a small town of old buildings, built who knows how many centuries ago. The hills were patched with the lines of vineyards and olive groves and houses scattered around. It was beautiful to be out in the countryside.

We cut our bike outing short in order to catch the train to Assisi, which my host mom recommended we do. We boarded an incredibly crowded train, which emptied itself of Chocolate Festival goers after we passed Perugia, and we arrived about half an hour later at Assisi. The city itself is up on a hill, and is the prettiest town I have seen yet, here in Italy, which is saying something. As Kelly said, every time I see something I think it has to be the prettiest thing I’ve seen, and then I see the next thing. But I think Assisi will be able to contend for prettiest for quite awhile. We walked very quickly across the historical center, hoping to make it to the church at the other end while it was still open (our guidebook said something about it closing at 12:00). We passed beautiful squares, a roman ruin which we hardly glanced at they’ve become almost commonplace, and passed the occasional panorama of the valley below and sucked in our breath at how pretty it was, but kept walking. When we rounded the corner on the steep winding road to the Cathedral, I was struck with how simply beautiful it was.

The church wasn’t ornate or overwhelming in its intricacies or beautiful arches, mosaics, carvings, colored marbles. It was simple, with a few delicate details, and much more graceful than many of the Italian churches I have seen with their heavy presences. And it sits on the edge of the hill, with a grassy area in front of it, so the eye sees a field lead down to this beautiful, simple cathedral, and the panoramic valley set out beyond it. It seems to almost float there, a companion to the birds soaring and swooping around it. The perfect place to dedicate to a saint who loved nature as much as Saint Francis did. With a town like that, living with a view like that, it would be hard not to love nature. And, to complete the impact, as we walked into the cathedral the choir for mass was starting, and the voices echoed through the frescoed walls. Churches have the most wonderful acoustics, and hymns are some of the most beautiful songs in the world. It was probably one of the most spiritual places I have ever been to. And of all the saints I know of, Saint Francis is the one who I agree with the most, so it seemed more powerful to me than a place dedicated to beliefs or ideologies that I don’t relate to at all.

The lower cathedral, built literally under the larger one, was much more intimate, but generally very similar to the other. Beneath its floors lies the body of Saint Francis, and a steady stream of people were quietly filing down one set of stairs and up another. Down the stairs the crowd slowly and reverently walked up to the body, around the pillar it stood in, and back out. Some people had stopped on benches on the side to pray, and a monk sat keeping an eye on the crowd. The only sound came from the shuffling of feet, quiet whispers, and the noises of children. Infants carried in the arms of their fathers and young children just learning about the world. One small child pointed and told his father, both showing off and double checking, “tomba.” “Si,” the father encouraged the use of the new word, “tomba.” And a few older children whose mothers, trying to instill some piety, irritably told them to be quiet and stop complaining about it being boring.

After the beautiful churches, our stomachs returning us to the world of practicality and the need for lunch, we went to a restaurant called “Locanda del Podestá” in some ancient building – who knows how old the wall that I leaned my purse against was. But the food was some of the best I’ve had in Italy – ravioli dei tartufi (truffles) e noci (walnuts, which are in season at the moment) with a side of asparagi (asparagus). Absolutely, completely, satisfyingly delicious.

On our walk back to the bus stop we wandered through the town, looking at some of the things for sale and enjoying the poetry of the buildings. I swear I have never seen a town as universally beautiful as Assisi. Even the trees that lined the road seemed more beautiful, more graceful as they dropped their leaves, spinning down to the sidewalks like dancers, than normal trees. It must be something in the air of Assisi. Maybe St. Francis really did bring a blessing to the place.

In any case, Assisi currently has my vote for most beautiful town in all of Italy. If you ever get the chance, go!