Last week ...

Last week at this time - or at least on this day - we were enjoying the best walk of our holiday in the most wonderful weather. Today I did a big supermarket shop thanks to my bestie and her car, fell asleep after lunch, and proved the truth of the adage about a friend in need when our friends David and Sarah lent us a car to tide us over the weekend, when we really need some wheels. And today's weather? Well, the sun won in the end, and it's been a clear evening, but the temperatures were more those of March than of late May (it's 9ºc right now at 11pm) and I didn't take any photos.

With such a day, I hope I'll be forgiven for posting a wee story from last Friday. All the blips I wrote while I was in Italy were done on my phone, which I don't like, and were mostly written while I was fighting to keep my eyes open, so they were necessarily brief. But on that last walk we enjoyed a different experience from the other days ...

Having walked through a nature reserve and then round a hanging valley high in the mountains that rise above the lake we set off to descend through a series of little villages. At the first of these, we stopped to eat our sandwiches outside a little church beside the road. There were spaces on a bench outside, in the shade, but not enough for everyone. Himself and I were inside the church admiring the fact that there were icons on the wall as well as the more typical holy pictures and statues when the leader stuck her head in the door to tell us that a lady in the village had said that it would be all right if some of us wanted to eat in the cool of the church, as long as we behaved with respect. And so it happened that the two of us had our lunch with the icon of the virgin, in the lofty, painted interior of the church (on the left of the collage) where the echoes resonated with our every movement. When we had eaten, we lit a couple of candles and left some money in the box - and then asked the rest of the group outside if they would mind if we sang inside. So we sang the opening of Come Holy Ghost, the plainsong hugely amplified by the acoustic, and felt ... just right.

Then we walked on, sometimes on the cobbled road, sometimes down paths through the fields, to the next village and another church, rather larger this time, with an even more resonant acoustic, and there we sang again at the request of the group and the leader, who'd not heard us the first time, and that felt good too. (Top right of the photo).

The day ended at the village where the bus would meet us, outside a larger church again (bottom right). There were people in this church, and a man mending something, so we didn't presume to sing again. However, I did come across an extraordinary statue in a corner of San Rocco, with a prayer begging his protection against coronavirus, which of course was such a deadly scourge in this area before ever it reached our shores. I looked this saint - and his dog - up when I came home: it's a fascinating story. 

So - a day when everything seemed to come together and the holiday felt complete and satisfying. A week ago today. 

Ciao, bella Italia!