Dispatch from a Bike

Ah Umbria - Now this is how I hoped Italy could be, and probably how human existence should be.  Cultured little towns with cultivated country all around.  We joined 18 others, from England, Brazil, the USA and Canada for a 7 day bike tour of this landlocked “green heart” of Italy.  Peddling through the countryside from one hilltop village to another.  4 star hotels, huge feasts afield at lunch, and 4 course sit downs at night; and still time to walk the medieval streets and gaze up in the art-laden churches.


They said this is the hill country, but viewing from a bicycle seat, hill must be an Italian word for mountain. Nevertheless, even 4-5 hours on a bike each day could not counter the 2-4 hours of eating.  As the money belt thins, the underlying flesh expands to fill the void.  There apparently is no such thing as a bad meal in Italy, and I fear for my wardrobe when the coming cooking schools continues my changes in body shape.  Sleep comes easy and dispatches suffer.

A day at Assisi on the anniversaries of both the death of St. Francis, and of the big quake of ’97, that took down much of the town and the dome of the fabulous church.  An aftershock killed 4 workers trying to save the damaged dome.  Lots of the faithful in town.  Unlike his boss in Rome, Francis actually gave his wealth to the poor and tried to emulate the life of Jesus. He asked his followers, which became the Franciscans, to do the same.  Some did (and do), some didn’t.  How could the huge church and vast art at this headquarters of the order, jive with their vow of poverty?  Seems Gregory XI wanted it done, so called in his papal lawyer, ClaususLoopholus.  He wrote the deed in the Pope’s name, not the Franciscans.  Problem solved.  Had the early church tended toward the ideals of Francis, the world would have been a much different place.  I got big goose bumps standing in front of this Saint’s tomb.

On to the other hill towns like Todi, Orvieto, Spello, and, yesterday, Civita - with its population of nine.  All are medieval or even older walled forts and are barely ascendable even today. This must have been a very nasty neighborhood back then, as the flat valleys and wooded slopes were passed up as building sites - not as defensible as the rocky crags.  Thankfully a combination of romantic idealism and functionally (not to mention the cost) have kept much of the past from being torn down.  The buildings are all cut stone and still serve nicely the exact purpose they were designed for a thousand years ago.  The churches, shops and houses built then are still in use.  Only the phone wires and water pipes prevent a Dante or Donatello from stepping out of a narrow slit of a street, to an animated “Buongiorno!”  Practice of the language requires both hands and a strong wrist.  People more than friendly and the pace of life just right.

Our last peddle-in hotel is the oldest in all of Italy.  Once a retreat for early Cardinals, its combination of ruins and luxury are in perfect contrast.  The high tower, long closed to humans, is a rookery of rooks - their wheeling and calling the timeless soundscape for the sunrise and sunset.



Today the packaged bike trip is over and we return to backpacker's mode and move into a tiny room on a tiny plaza in a tiny town, and continue to live large, in more ways than one.

 - Rodious Rotundus