There is going to be some serious back tracking posts coming along soon (so much to write but where’d they hide my time to do it??) but in the meantime, here’s a little offering of a day more recent – Good Friday in Spoleto
The weather has slipped into dual personality mode. Daily we have a blend of blue peeking through pillowy clouds that are pushed aside by spongy gray rows of rain clouds. They take turns, so we usually carry umbrellas. But the coolness of mountain air and the utterly gorgeous display of budding trees, spring flowers, and the return of the “squeely birds” (aka swallows) soaring between buildings fills our hearts daily.
Good Friday is celebrated in many ways here in Italy. Most communities commemorate the crucifixion of Christ with a procession of what they call the “dead Christ”. Unfortunately I did not do my research early enough and the many amazing experiences we could’ve chosen from were already under way when the light bulb went off over my disappointed head. If this sort of thing interests you, do a search for Umbrian Easter traditions and you’ll find all sorts of fascinating reading. Maybe next year I can relay the “in person” story!
We made a quick sprint down to the base of town along the ancient walls where the Friday market is held. Needed to grab some fruit for the salad we’re taking to a friend’s Easter brunch, plus I had to score the purse I’d seen last week. I was determined to get the guy talked into 20 euro vs. 25 euro — we agreed on 23 euro. It’s the small things!
A day or two ago, I’d bought fresh ingredients to make ribolitta, a Tuscan winter soup that we’ve been craving. Other than the cavolo nero (black cabbage) that’s not in season and a red onion, all ingredients were on hand. I can’t say enough about the fresh produce here, even in the “big” stores like Conad and Coop. It’s seasonal, it’s so fresh, the flavors are big and bold like I’ve only ever had out of a garden. Food is a precious commodity here – the Italian culture isn’t going to put up with anything they’d not serve their own family.
Chop chop and the soup was on. The kitchen in this apartment is small, as most normal Italian kitchen are, but you make it work. An Italian friend told me they describe the kitchens as “one Nonna size”…and that’s pretty true! But it’s a joy to wash and hold and appreciate the beauty of the things I’ve cooked with. Spinach so crisp and of a green that’s almost black, strawberries that are unlike anything I’ve ever bought in a store at home, even the lowly carrots I chopped today had an earthy essence that could almost be described like a fine wine.
Bellies full, we took a little pausa before heading out to the Sala Frau, one of two of Spoleto’s movie theaters in the centro storico. The other, Sala Pegasus, is an ancient chapel built in the 1100’s that now houses movies and occasional live concerts. It’s next on our list! We’ve kept an eye on movie postings, and decided to dive in, no subtitles and all, for the experience.
You would never ever guess a grand movie theater resides behind the tiny, dimly lit corner of two ancient buildings tucked along a typical twisting cobblestone road in the middle of the old center. We went in, greeted the young many at the ticket desk, and found our reserved seats. It was a private showing…not one other soul was there! We had to laugh about it, then realized Good Friday was probably not the night most folks in town decided to go to the picture show.
It was interesting…a movie called Nonostante…and we think we got the overall idea and storyline, but in the “how much actual dialogue did you understand” department, it was a little dismal. A good experience, though.
As soon as the credits begin to roll, the young man whisked open the curtain and turned on the lights. We giggled thinking how unhappy he probably was that we showed up just as he was thinking he could lock up and go. We made haste for the door as we bid arrivederci.
The sky had cleared. Stars were discernible in the crisp night air and the sound of voices from the piazza drifted around the corner. We had to go see, of course, and came upon the two main bars (a different breed of establishment here) whose outside tables were filled. Young, old, and in-between all together enjoying the evening. There’s such community here, and the ability to walk out your door and be in the midst of it is so beautiful.
I told Marty I wanted to walk to the duomo and see if anything was going on. Maybe a procession we were unaware of, maybe not, but just to see it lit at night is special unto itself. As we descended the wide, flat, triangular staircase pouring into the duomo piazza, I saw the glow of flame outside the doors. My pace quickened; something was definitely going on. Closing in, I could hear a choir — mass was underway!
We slipped in, hovering along the back wall, and were so fortunate to be able to hear the last of the sermon, as well as a brief choral response. As I looked down at the stone inlaid floor now smooth and fluid with time, I thought of all those who’d stood here since the 1300’s, all those who’d taken part in worshiping on Good Friday, reflecting on the crucifixion and the coming resurrection. And there we stood now. These moments never lose their emotion.
There were fewer people out as we walked home but the piazza was still hosting the late-nighters. It’s common to see small groups of teens roaming together. Young girls in their uniform of wide leg jeans, black leather jackets, and long shiny hair move like a unit, elbow to elbow with giggles as the glue. The boys tend to do the same but work a little harder at looking cool. It’s delightful to watch, and it’s satisfying to see that this is a town that is safe for young people to wander at will, slurping gelato or stopping at the piazza bar for a coke and snacks.
Part of the appeal of small town Italy is this. I don’t think it’s a delusion that we feel absolutely safe walking about at midnight, that crime is practically zero, that life is allowed to flow – one generation replacing the next for another thousand years. I step out the door and I see the Roman-placed white stones that support the rocks of additional eras that now serve as a wall around a courtyard across from us. Life goes on here in a different way – sometimes with great difficulty, perhaps always so, yet the sweetness and beauty of life is kept close and revered and practiced each and every day. This is the true la dolce vita.