Assisi...Finally.--Sunday, March 13th

A view of Basilica di San Francesco

Alright…I can finally get to writing about Assisi.  After getting up at about 5:45 am and having scrambled eggs, ham, and grilled peanut butter, I was ready to head with about 15 or 16 fellow Bernardians, plus Fr. Carola, to Termini to catch the train to Assisi.  We met Fr. Carola there, who had purchased the tickets, and together we all got on the train and left at 7:45.  We got into Assisi just after 10 am, after stopping at probably seven or eight towns along the way.  The thing about Assisi is that there is a lower town (newer) and an upper town (Medieval).  We began in the lower town where the train station is, and we made our way to the basilica (I forget the name) that houses the original Franciscan church within it.  It really is pretty cool—Franciscans built a small chapel, which remains 100 % intact, residing where the nave meets the transept of the basilica.  We stopped in there for prayer time for 15 minutes or so, then moved on to the rose garden, where St. Francis is said, after being unable to rid his mind of impure thoughts, to have thrown himself, so as to be purified.   As legend holds, these rose plants now grow without thorns because of this event.  We also went to the small room (around which the basilica was built) in which St. Francis lived his life in poverty.  So, we took some pictures, Fr. Carola filled us in on some more history of the basilica, and then we got on a bus to head up the mountain to Medieval Assisi.

            There we went to the San Damiano complex (not really sure if it was an abbey, but it kind of seemed like it), where we walked around and Fr. Carola celebrated Mass.  Funny enough, since Italians take a rest every day for a few hours beginning around 12:30, so Fr. Carola said that he would try to hurry up because they would have literally locked the doors on us.  We got done in time and then went to lunch.  Unfortunately, it was raining, and we had nowhere to sit, so we sat under an archway to a side street, which is apparently where Fr. Carola and others had eaten when they had gone to Assisi.  Although it was still pouring pretty hard, about half of us went up the mountain, taking side streets and alleyways to reach the summit.  The architecture of this medieval town seems rather simple, but it is a great contrast to the marble used in Rome.  It definitely gives it a “small town” feel, because of the simplicity of the major building material of a brown/tan/yellow brick. 

The gang stay dry and eating under the archway in Assisi.

We took the long, steep, and slippery hike up the mountain, and when we got to the top we went inside the front courtyard of the castle, which would have been perfectly positioned for defense against any enemy, as there was nearly no side from which to attack it.  Since it was 5 euro to go inside, we all just walked around the courtyard, sat on the wall, took some pictures, and went back down.  One of the big surprises was that there was a concession stand, which was playing “Crazy Little Thing Called Love”, by Queen, so I stood there (not buying anything of course), and I soaked it all in, much like the rain had already done.  After we took in the amazing views—rolling green hillsides visible through the mist, the lower and upper towns, and church tops—we headed back down to meet up with the rest of the group at St. Clare’s Basilica.  On the way down, though, we actually stopped at the church of San Rufino, which today is clearly not the original, or at least has been heavily renovated.  Either way, it contains the baptismal font in which St. Francis and St. Clare were baptized.  Another interesting bit about this church is that it contains a hall entirely devoted to John Paul II, with twelve or so different paintings of the late pontiff.  By the time we all left, the rain had subsided (part of the reason we went in was to dry off a bit) and we continued our hike of the mountain.  

View from the top of the mtn, looking at St. Francesco

In this basilica is the San Damiano cross, which was one in a series of influential depictions of Christ on the cross.  This was not only powerful because of the beauty of the work, but because we had all learned about it earlier in the semester in Dr. Lev’s art history class.  Her crypt is below the church, and it contains not only a very ornate tomb of marble, bronze, frescos, and such, but also relics from both her and St. Francis’ lives.  Afterward, when we were walking to San Francesco, the Coulters and I stopped off at a café, where I was introduced to the best thing since sliced bread—Italian hot chocolate.  It is actually more like chocolate pudding than a liquid, but it was so rich and chocolaty that I wanted another cup of it, but I guess once was enough, as it warmed me up on that cold, rainy day.

San Francesco is an absolutely gigantic building dedicated to St. Francis, who, ironically, stressed simplicity during his lifetime.  Perhaps compared to many other churches, basilicas, and cathedrals it was simple, but it is a very voluminous building, containing many beautiful frescos pertaining to St. Francis’ life (upper church) and to Christ, Mary, the apostles, etc. (lower church).  In fact, it was built within a decade of St. Francis’ death—the fastest ever up to that point.  We were unable to take any pictures (licitly), although I got a few, but the one thing that I did not like—other than the fact that his tomb below the lower church’s altar doesn’t open until mid-April—is that in a chapel behind the altar, and down 20 steps or so, some no-talent a** clown was commissioned to paint several fresco imitations that looked like they were done in the 70s.  Tim Iannacone would probably call these “happy-sappy” Catholic images, and they really were, as they were completely anachronous in comparison to a legitimate fresco from the 14^th or 15^th century.  One even depicted a guy in jeans, a woman playing with her baby, and these trippy orange, yellow, blue, and white horizon lines—none of which would have been included in any real fresco.  Quite frankly, they should have been whitewashed—from the wall and from everyone’s memory.  The redeeming factor about this room was that the chalice and paten that St. Francis used, along with his tunic and a piece of cloth with which to cover his stigmata, were all in there.

Italian hot chocolate--it's even better than it looks.

We had some time to roam around the town after looking around the church, and then we took the bus back down to the train station.  We left at about 6:30 pm for Rome and arrived at just after 8:30.  For dinner, most of us went to a steakhouse—yes a Roman steakhouse—the Roadhouse Grill, at Termini Station.  I got a chicken sandwich, fries, and Corona, although I kind of wanted a burger or steak—but those didn’t look too appetizing from the look of them on the menu.  Either way, it really seemed like an American restaurant, complete with license plates from each state including good ol’ Minnesota with tabs from the 80s.  It was funny, but exciting to see a little piece of home right there in Rome.

On another note, before I finish this exceedingly long post, if you ever come to Rome, you will always be entertained by street performers—whether it’s a random guy belting out Queen’s “Tie Your Mother Down” on his own Red Special, or some guy doing a crappy rendition of Michael Jackson’s moves in “Thriller” (though he was in the full get-up) in Piazza del Popolo, it can be pretty amusing walking through the piazzas.  I haven’t tipped any of ‘em, but it’s fun to mooch off this free entertainment.