Went for a walk today. First I had planned to walk The St. Francis walk of Peace or something like that. It is from Assisi to Gubbio, the walk St Francis made after his conversion into saintly behaviour. Thought that might be a good idea, that walk, who knows how I would turn out.
In our Umbria guide book it said it was 40 kilometers (26 miles), which was going to be stretching it, giving the short daylight hours, the hilly surroundings and the fact I haven’t practised that much.
When I got a more detailed map (although not as detailed as the Ordinance surveymaps in England) it was clear it was even farther and almost mountainous. Not a good idea. So I shortened the route to an easy up and a different way down walk to Valfabbrica.
It wasn’t easy. First of all there was a fog. I waited for it to disappear but at 10:00, still decided to head on. Fog means coldness. The sight line was not more than 50 metres, but that didn’t really matter, there was not much else than just following the road.
After climbing up hill after hill suddenly the sun appeared. We always know that the sun shines above the clouds, but except in an airplane, we hardly ever experience it.
I did today. It is kind of magic, all those clouds, laying there beneath you as a stretched out layer of pillows. The sun made ten degrees difference in temperature. Gloves and scarf on in the clouds, coat open, gloves and scarf off in the sun. In the distance I saw snow-filled tops of mountains. This isn’t the Pyrenees but I climbed the highest hills of Holland a few times over.
Yesterday I tried to bike to Assisi. I managed to do it, but didn’t like the experience. It felt like I died a few times. Luckily resurrected, to tell the tale – and this is a magic kind of place – but still, it is not really my preferred way of getting from A to B.
Walking is. It is slow, one can adjust easily from impression to impression. There is time to ponder: I should have done this or that at this or that point in my life – I need to do this or that in the rest of my life. There is time to wonder: Why are there so awful many dogs in Italy, the barking is audible above the clouds, quite awful.
Was thinking about St. Francis too. He walked barefoot. Just couldn’t imagine how he did that. The vision of this barefoot-walking follower of Francis that we saw in Assisi was constantly in front of me. Those swollen legs, the wounds on his feet. And then to think there were hardly any roads. All the acorns on the way, how much must they have hurt him.
Well, those kind of things. When I get tired, and I did get tired today, I just start counting to hundred, taking four steps for each number (so I can walk on the sound of een-en-twin-tig, and so on). At the end of the last hundred (the 14th) I saw our apartment looming. Heaven, I thought, the more because when I arrived up the stairs Julie said: Just in time, the soup is just ready.
Had to recover fifteen minutes before I could appreciate it. But still, St. Francis would have to chew on a piece of old bread that he first had to beg for.
And he couldn’t even take his shoes off. Thinking about it, there were lovely views, lovely thoughts, lovely soup and a restaurant like supper (ravioli with roasted tomato as a starter; grilled chicken and a festive salad as mains; cheese after, with Monbazillac) but the moment I could take of my shoes was best.
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