A Hot Second in Assisi, Lanciano, and San Giovanni Rotundo

Assisi
Italiaidea ends at 7 and my train was at 7:55.  Now I knew I had plenty of time to get there, but I'm the type of person that thinks 20 minutes early is late there is no lallygagging on my commute to the Termini.  And of course I get there with 35 minutes to spare.  I splurged for 3 euro more and bought a first class train ticket, was disappointed when it looked like an average, MARC train, but I had two seats facing each other to myself and all the leg room in the world.

I arrived in Assisi right on time, and was greeted by a deserted platform, save for the one other person who got off and was immediately greeted by someone and they departed.  Although I am fully capable of taking care of myself if the situation arises, this was too soon to my Home Alone scare in Orvieto and I was nervous that Matt and Kasey forgot me. A nervous 7 minutes crawl by and suddenly here come the ugly Americans, speeding down this tiny little street, honking their horn, waving an American flag, and blaring Born in the USA.  I jest, but they did obnoxiously beep Paolo's horn.  (Paolo was the name of the little black car we drove)  Matt and Kasey gave me a quick night drive tour of Assisi, but then it was back to the hotel where we caught up and I filled them in over a bottle of wine.

The next morning we visited Santa Maria degli Angeli, the basilica literally built around the original chapel built by St. Francis.  It looked to be as though it was the same design as St. Peter's, but no one has been able to confirm that for me.  We saw many cool artifacts, walked through the rose garden (no roses in February), and like all good Catholics we patronized the gift shop, or as they call it in Italy, "Articoli Religiosi."

Navigating out of Assisi proved to be a challenge; we were lost for about 45 minutes before we finally found the right mountain road to the coast.  Roads in Italy are marked differently than in the United States.  We are used to signs along the road that alert you to the different options you have ahead, and everything is labeled by road number and cardinal direction.  In Italy, the signs are only at in intersection, stacked on top of each other, literally pointing to a town and telling you how far away it is.  This is not conducive to following map quest directions that tell you to "take a left onto SPS-272, then right on SX-57."  Drive time was 4 hours 25 minutes, with a gas stop.

Lanciano
Lanciano was a surprisingly bustling town.  We were there to see the Eucharistic Miracle , one of the most famous in the world.  Our map was in Italian and every "notable location" was a church, so it took some time to find the right church.  We eventually settled on a basilica with the "Eucharistic Miracle" in the name, but upon exploring the church we couldn't find it. 

Kasey was starting to get stressed (Lancianowas her pick on the trip) and we wandered around outside the church, wondering where the Eucharistic Miracle was.  Someone noticed a brown sign across the street, (brown signs point to churches) I went over to check it out and saw...

Oh there it is.

The church was dimly lit, and there were two levels of the sanctuary, the first with the altar, and above and behind it the Miracle housed in a monstrance in a glass tabernacle, but between the nave and the upper sanctuary there was a transparent black veil.  After some time I felt the urge to go to confession and eventually found a room with a priest.  (In Italian) I asked if this was the room for reconciliation (which is a mouthful in Italian) and if he was available.  He asked, "Quale lingua?" and when I responded, "Inglese," he just laughed at me.  Sad and dejected I returned to my pew, settling (its not really settling) for personal prayer time in front of the physical body and blood of Christ.  A few minutes passed and a someone tapped me on the shoulder, and another priest handed me a pamphlet on the Miracle and said "English."  I accepted it and he also handed one to Matt and to Kasey.  As we opened them to read, he waved and said, "No, come," and he led us up to the sanctuary and motioned to a bench not 5 feet directly in front of the Miracle.  I don't know how long we were there, but it was awesome.

The top portion of the monstrance holds the heart tissue, and below that is the blood.

After visiting the Eucharistic Miracle, we returned to the first church for mass (Italian).  It was especially awesome for me because the presider spoke slow enough that I actually understood most of the homily.  My retention was not great because of slow comprehension of a a lot of information, but awesome nonetheless.

Looking for dinner was also a challenge, as apparently there are no restaurants in Lanciano.  After driving around until the low fuel warning came on, we settled on a little pizzeria and sampled the fare.  After dinner it was time to find the bottle of wine for the evening.  Kasey and I found a little wine bar (I don't know why I keep saying little, everything is little here) and I was ready to use my knew wine knowledge on selecting a "good" bottle of wine.  As I am teaching Kasey about what I am looking for, I am also talking to the proprietor about the various bottles on the shelf.  After I select one and go to pay, I realize that we still don't have a corkscrew (Matt and Kasey have just been pushing the cork in... smh. Americans.).  I don't know the word for it, so I pick one up and ask he sells "queste" (these) and he asks if I want one just like it, I say yes, he opens a drawer pulls one out and tells me "un regalo" (a gift).  There are so many little surprises when you take the time to converse and be genuine with Italian strangers.  Kasey also told me that this was my "masculine moment," Matt's was driving in a foreign country.



View from outside the hotel

Leaving Lanciano was pretty straightforward.  We knew how to get back to the autostrada, but what we didn't know was what time of fuel Paolo drank, and Paolo was thirsty...  We pulled into a few stations, but they were either diesel (which we knew he wasn't) or had no attendant (because we didn't want to risk it ourselves).  We passed the autostrada, 3 stations, through a town, 2 more stations, and with 1 bar out of 10 on the fuel gauge we end on "Via della Panoramica."  The name enough is unsettling for one low on fuel, but the windy road down the side of a mountain overlooking the Adriatic Sea was not appreciated by three 20 somethings about to run out of gas in a foreign country where only one speaks the language, and when he does its a "fake it til you make it" kinda of deal.  After getting off Via della Panoramica we pull into the first station we see, assuming we are running only on fumes at this point.  I go into the station and start explaining our situation to the attendant, she looks confused and asks, "English?"  Sigh of relief, "yes."  She helps us out and we are our on our way.  The subsequent 5 minutes were full of sighs, exasperation, and nervous laughs about our narrow escape of being SOL.  Drive time to San Giovanni Rotundo: just under 2 hours.

Somewhere in these mountains is San Giovanni Rotundo

San Giovanni Rotundo
San Giovanni Rotundo is the resting place of Padre Pio, and he is popular there.  Everything is named after him.  We visit his parish, see his chapel, confessional and then start looking for his tomb in the adjacent building.  The place is super modern and difficult to navigate.  After another 20 minute period of not knowing where to go or where anything is, Kasey decides we should check out the "Religious Artifacts" seeing the sign "Articoli Religiosi," and I don't have the heart to tell her its a gift shop.  It all turns out ok though, because she remembers that gift shops are usually at the end of the building, and sure enough we find a door on the other side.  Walking against traffic we come upon a spiral ramp with two sets of mosaics; on one side is the life of Padre Pio and mirrored on the other is the life of St. Francis.  At the top is Chiesa Superiore, a creepy modern church that looks more like the cave in Zion in the Matrix.  We go down some steps and boom.  There it is.  A small/big chapel decorated entirely of gold mosaic.

The sign said no photos, but I am my father's son.

Padre Pio's casket is set into the round part to the right, just behind the altar.  The casket is some shiny metal material set with jewels.  We got their just in time to be the last three to visit it for the day, as mass was about to begin.  Our assumption was that the main entrances had been blocked off some time before to allow people to filter through and out before mass began, and we, not to be denied, snuck in the back door.  AMERICA.

We still had plenty of time to kill, and the Shrine of Padre Pio is the ONLY thing in SGR, so we drove 30 minutes out of the mountain to the Adriatic and a little coastal town called Manfredonia.  It was cute.  It smelled.  The people were weird.  It was the Jersey Shore of Italy. 


Cool castle and a beach...

We get back to SGR, walk passed a couple restaurants and decide on one that looks more like a Elks Club dining hall, but the young men who worked there were nice and even put a heater under our table (the place was frigid).  He knew we were American students, but I guess never encountered one who spoke Italian becuase he looked genuinely confused when I interacted in his language.  He asked, "why do you speak Italian?" and I told him I studied the language and was in Rome to study it more and he looked quite pleased that I was that interested in his culture.  As we moved through the various courses, he stopped asking us questions in English and would ask me in Italian and always looked thrilled when I would respond in Italian.  Two cool Italian experiences in two days.
Monday morning we drove back from SGR to Rome.  Four hours back up the coast past Lanciano, accross, through, over and under the Appenines, and finally to Rome, where I was dropped of at Anagnina right off the GRA (Rome's literal equivalent of Greenbelt and 495) and took a 30 minute metro ride home in time for my Italian midterm.

Sun breaking through the clouds at dusk, outside SGR.

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