vi t e r b o - v e t r a l l a

 “You're right to say "hold on to" instead of "keep." To keep is presumptuous. To hold means you realize that today it's yours and tomorrow who knows” -

Erri de Luca

​Yesterday’s walk saw another 20 km of the last 100km to Rome- Viterbo to Vetrella. It feels surreal to be so close to the end, yet walking Southeast all summer, isn’t this the natural conclusion?

Exiting Viterbo I stopped into a church with some enchanting music and a big youth group wearing matching Calabria shirts.

Once in the path, the  day was hot and the trail was mostly flat and passed along a highway.

With few opportunities to stop for a rest and a sandwich along the way, I climbed a big fence to buy a solid lunch of prosciutto fromagio on ciabatta bread and an espresso at a highway gas station.

I turned my head to the dust of some construction and found blackberries everywhere.

Later, a huge treat came in the form of an ice cream cone 4km from the town. When I stopped to ask to refill water bottles at a house and the homeowners chatted in a lot of Italian I didn’t quite understand, except “gelato?”

I saw some fresh graffiti paint, including a scrawling that means, “the way gives me everything”. 

Vetralla came quickly and without much of a climb. I arrived at the sleepy siesta hour in the old town and laid flat on a stone wall.

Later, I washed my clothes at a lavanderia. It was a good alternative to the traditional and symbolic burning of clothes near the end of a pilgrimage. 

- v i t e r b o

The human foot is a masterpiece of engineering and a work of art.

- Leonardo da Vinci​

••​

Yesterday saw the first step of the last 100km to Rome along an ancient road, finally some blisters! and reaching maybe the last major city before Rome, Viterbo.

Leaving Montefiascone was one big hill with a beautiful park overlooking the city and Viterbo in the distance on one side, and Lake Bolsena on the other. It was also a very well planned park, with benches at overlooks and playground equipment. Best of all was maybe the playground equipment placed at overlooks.

​Maybe stopping for 30 minutes before the walking even started for the day is no way to compete with the rising sun. The later you start the hotter it gets. Yet somehow, now that the finish line is in sight, I take less and less care about these things. I want to enjoy the moment and take in the sights. This day that meant the light feeling of swinging in an open sky and keeping my phone in my pocket. 

Tomorrow I don’t know, but I’m prepared to find out one step (or swing) at a time. 

- m o n t e f i a s c o n e

“This hill though high I covent ascend;
The difficulty will not me offend;
For I perceive the way of life lies here”

- John Bunyan

Today I reached Montefiascone from Bolsena, marking just 100km left to walk to Rome. The overwhelming feeling is that of eating an elephant bite by bite. Now that the end is in sight, it’s like, pass me the bread basket because I am going to make the scarpetta.

 http://www.italymagazine.com/news/italian-ritual-fare-la-scarpetta

The path today went along the lake and then into a wide trail far from the road. It was lovely. In the hot, sunny hours of the late morning, it was still possible to cool a bit near the water. A cloud cover moved in as the trail portion began. There were woods, and farms, and fields of olive trees.

I also found some signs on the path in a style I adore.

To end, the views of the city of Montefiascone were really spectacular. Because there were very few stops along the wooded trail, the first place to stop in for a Coca Cola was a huge treat.

I arrived in the hour between 2 and 4PM when most everything was closed. When the town reopened, live music was starting in the streets of the small city center for a wine festival.

I took a Campari soda so I could partake in the varied aperitif buffet for dinner. There’s a word for this I learned it Italian... I learned it when we made sandwiches for lunch at a breakfast buffet. I can’t the word now though  so I’ll just leave it here for any linguists to help if they’re reading...  

I watched a bit of music mystery documentary to fall asleep - “Searching for Sugar Man” and played with a Google Earth to find the most dangerous road I walked on so far on the way to Rome. I fell asleep and dreamed I had to go directly from lunch at my hometown hamburger place on Route 123 in Connecticut to Rome. I woke up 100 km away. 

- l a k e • b o l s e n a

“There is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon , for each day to have a new and different sun.” - Jon Krakauer

Today’s walk to Bolsena started and ended later than usual, I took one night outside of the familiar pilgrim dormitory and seemed to lose the habit of beginning to walk at 5AM.

I felt a devotion to this ritual. Like doing things in this way - was 100% correct, and without this ritual I would perish in the sun, but actually the day was just fresh and as wonderful starting to walk at 8:30AM after breakfast.

I met other pilgrims from Milan at breakfast. They were also marathon runners walking the  Via Francigena. I took heart in their perspective - even if you have run marathons, walking uses very different muscles and the soreness can take you by surprise!

I caught up to them after the first stop, and we shared the rest of the road to Bolsena.

The air had a breeze in it from the lake, and the path was flat, so even though I started much later walking in the sun this day was a pleasure. Lunch came on the road. The blackberry brambles growing everywhere have almost become a staple of my diet on the Via Francigena in Italy, but today they were especially ripe near the waters of the volcanic Lake Bolsena.

Just before jumping in the lake, I made a friend by land. A new dream flashed through my mind- if I travel the Via Francigena from Canterbury to Rome encore it could be on a horse (or donkey).

- a c q u a p e n d e n t e

 I am little concerned with beauty or perfection. I don't care for the great centuries. All I care about is life, struggle, intensity. 

Émile Zola

•• 

Yesterday saw a 25 km stage to leave Tuscany and enter Lazio, very few photos in the sun and struggle, and a huge portion of pilgrim menu pasta for energy.

•• 

“Meno di quattro giorni” was the good word a long table of sweaty travelers raised their glasses to. I spent the next twenty minutes asking for an explanation of this meant. 

Literally- “less than four days“.

Meaning less than four days to Rome. 

How? 

How is it possible is that the other two Canterbury pilgrims leading the group plan to leave their backpacks in Viterbo and begin walking twice the recommendation - about 40km by day for 3 days - to arrive in Rome earlier and beat the holy days crowd at the Vatican. The last stage through the suburbs of Rome involves taking a bus per the overwhelming local recomendation. An ironic way to end a journey of thousands of kilometers on foot.

And what all this means I guess- the rythmn I have carried from Aulla is changing again, the group, the province, the landscape.

When we arrived in Acquapendente, the city structure was noticeably different than it had been in Toscana. The city hall was massive and for the first time we walked up a great staircase to get our pilgrim stamp from a very beaurocratic looking office of sport.

I took very few pictures or cultural education notes when I arrived in the city. In these final stages, the first thing to see in a town is more often the grocery store or pharmacy than the duomo. 

Somehow, the beauty of the sweaty climbs and early mornings is enough to feed the soul until Rome. 

- r a d i c o f a n i

“Nothing is worth more than this day” - Goethe

 ••

Today saw 25 km from San Querico to Radicofini. I woke up early, in a dorm of 20 pilgrims it was easy. 

Luckily there was coffee at 5AM and we shared some traditional Tuscan cake for breakfast. 

The sunrise was beautiful in a way that could not be captured by the camera, so I tried some and then just enjoyed the glow over the Tuscan countryside. 

The first stop of the day was not cappuccino and brioche per routine. The path winded around a pool of thermal water. Everyone paused to take pictures, but I started taking off my socks. Soon it was a party of 8 pilgrims in a new element and the best moment of the day.

Luckily the hotel had a sense of humor about it, and a nice cafe attached for cappuccino brioche. We walked on, everyone was recharged by the break and felt they had experienced something unique before 8AM.

I had so much energy walking for no reason at all. I saluted a braying donkey and speared out from the group with a long stride. Just as the heat of the day was beating down and the hill to Radicofini began climbing around 12pm, a couple from Bologna pulled aside and offered me a ride up the hill. They had done this stage of the Via Francigena three years ago.  

They dropped me off at the church where I would stay for the night, and reunite with many friends. Before dinner, we received a very special benediction for pilgrims, the ceremonial washing of the feet.

I was absolutely humbled and a bit culture shocked, they prayed for us by name, rinsed and kissed one foot of each pilgrim. 

But I felt so much the power of the ritual, and understood a tiny bit of the Italian - “ a Roma”. 

- s a n • q u i r i c o

​“Don’t be afraid. If you are afraid, you can’t move forward” 

- Malala Yousafzai​

​••

Today saw 25km if walking to San Quirico, 3 pilgrim goodbyes, some new friends, and a some kind of breakthrough with the aches and pains I have been experiencing on the trail.​

We started from Ponte D’Arba in the dark on a long trail, with no coffee at the hostel and the promise of a cappuccino ​/ brioche seeming to be faraway.

But we came to the smart town of Buonconvent at last. It was literally bittersweet because the chocolate brioches was fresh and warm, but our friends following the Assisi trail had to go a separate way. 

After many hugs and pictures, we found the trail again. I found a lot of energy in the sun, and it seemed with my new sneakers I could walk forever.  There were few stops on the way, so we improved with big round haybales. I stretched backwards on one like i had been dreaming of.

We passed some unique trees and I realized I was only nine days from Rome. Suddenly I just wasn’t worried about my back. I felt it was getting better every day, like my bugbites were almost healed, and I had a surge of faith I was going to make it in my own way.

I walked quickly when the sun got hot, and was one of the first to reach the city. I put my legs up on the hard cot in a stretch and closed my eyes. I knew the drill by now, and could already imagine the pain of these long walks, hard beds, and sweaty nights, dark mornings and mosquito bites transforming into a sweet memory, but not yet. I took a breath and felt the peace of the moment. 

- p o n t e • d’ a r b i a

“in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed” -

khalil gibran

today’s new boots saw 35 km of walking - 25 of the prescribed path, plus a 10km round trip detour when we lost the path to

avoid barking dogs on the loose. 

I walked with my friend Alice. It was hard to get going at 4AM for both of us, so we never caught the rest of the group.

But it as a wonderful walk of shared silence, incredible landscape, and music. 

It was nice to share some “You too? I thought I was the only one” belly laughs about pilgrim stuff - stocking up on sheets of toilet paper in the bathroom of cafes with grouchy management, trying in vain to make yourself presentable when you reach a city like Siena or Lucca by walking the way.

I also learned some new Italian words, my favorite of all time maybe being “fare la scarpetta” - the technical term for eating every last drop of sauce from your pasta dish by soaking it up with a piece of bread when you finish the pasta.

”In my house,” she said, “if you don’t do it it like, is something wrong? Are you feeling sick?”  

The animals we saw around us- the flighty birds that pop out of bushes and red-skinned roosters, are also apparently prepared into excellent dishes in Tuscany. After 25km, we started to get hungry. Just as we were listing favorite flavor of gelato, big bushes of blackberries - “more” (plural of mura, pronounced MORE- AY)  appeared all along the path.

I am a bit of a “ghiottone” for wild berries so I have no pictures, but that I live another day without starving on the trail is maybe the best takeaway from these rows and rows of bushes. Even when we lost the Via Francigena for a few extra kms, a bright side was the fattest berries of the day, not yet picked over by other pilgrims.

 It was a day of slowly discovering the Tuscany countryside, learning and sharing. In the end, I was  glad I woke up at 4AM and dressed in yesteday’s damp running shorts instead of sleeping in and taking a train from the city. As my friend pointed out at 9AM- four hours into walking today, if we took a car, we could be in Rome for lunch!

- s i e n a

 “Every step of the way to heaven is heaven” 

- Catherine of Siena

•• 

today’s stage to Siena saw about 25km, lots of red clay, my third pair of walking shoes since Canterbury, and one terrific Tuscan Contrada party to celebrate.

The trail guides said there was no water on the path this day, but actually, one private home was turned into a pilgrim oasis after 10km. 

...complete with its own stamp  

The owner does everything on a donativo basis, but I did promise to send a postcard from New York. He had a binder with plenty from Rome! After passing the Nutella many times and some espresso, we walked on. 

An hour later, we had the snack we prepared. Tomato on crusty bread. A real crowd pleaser in the French/Italian/American group. Made better when we discovered olive oil.

And at finaly we entered Siena, where we rested in the center of town.

At night, a friend of a friend of mine from New York invited us to a Contrada party. The part of Siena celebrating tonight was named for their shell symbol, also a symbol of pilgrimage.

I met many young Americans from Connecticut and California who were studying abroad at the University of Siena. I realized we shared the same accent, and we shared something else that reminded me of college - slices of pizza! 

- m o n t e r i g g i o n i

 “I hope you will go out and let stories, that is life, happen to you...”

Clarrissa Pinkola Estés

 ••

today’s walk was an August-in-Italy-hot 30k to the ancient walls of Monteriggioni.

with a bit of effort we found the trail and [mostly] stayed together. 

I have an unofficial rule when walking the Via Francigena that all wrong turns can be photo opportunities, as they usually reorganize your time and show you something you wouldn’t have seen otherwise. Today, loking for the right turn was a discussion that created a pause in very beautiful light.

we found two good ways that led to coffee in the end.

We visited an ancient walled city on the way and took more photos among tour buses and school field trips. 

The final road to Monteriggioni passed through blue skies, stone walls and olive trees. It had a dreamy quality, like a storybook bible. 

When we finally reached Monteriggioni it was a huge effort to make the final hill into the city. I raced my nearest teammate up it in a moment of feigned competition with an element of seriousness. I lost, and probably created a reason to be 10x more sore than usual today. 

But I laughed so hard when I finally got there.

- s a n • g i m i g n a n o

“Destiny has a lot to do with it, but so do you. You have to persevere, you have to insist” - Andrea Bocelli

•• 

today was a magical, short, short sunrise hike.

i walked fast but stopped often to take pictures. I was lost in thought, and before I knew it, I was lost in muddy fields of grapes.   

what I eventually found was a cappuccino-brioche and a coffee at 8:30am, but I didn’t find my friends ahead or behind me until I reached the city.

Almost as soon as I stepped in the city walls, I saw Alice then Max stepping out of the store.

 “What happened? We almost organized a mission to find you!” One said 

 “No, if you got all the way across France by yourself I knew you would find us here” sthe Canterbury - Rome pilgrim said.

It was true. Nowadays I wonder if I had to walk so much alone as I did in the first month , I would be able to after enjoying about a week of traveling south in an Italian army. 

But the soltitude when I was lost few hours was also in its way, wonderful. The morning sun and free rythmn eased the grinding wheels of my mind today.

The reunion inside the city was a good feeling. 

They even managed to save my spot inside the very-hard-to-book pilgrim hostel.

No reservations, just show up as early as possible with your credential to get one of 10 beds when the place opened at 2PM.

I remember another Via Francigena pilgrim far ahead of me describing the way things worked in this part of the path. He grumbled that swarms of Italians would descend on the cities close to Rome and book up everything out  ahead of time, forcing him to wild camp every night. 

I remember praying to God when it was my time I could somehow be part of the Italian swarm and not have to sleep outside.

And today I am very grateful.

- g a m b a s s i

 “the future starts today, not tomorrow” - karol wojtyla

 ••

yesterday’s stage reached gambassi therme, a tiny ancient town about 30 km closer to rome, named for its thermal springs.  

​a very special part of the trail was finding ancient shells from when the area was under the ocean 5 million years ago.

although one other treat of the day was supposed to be a swim in the thermal pools the town is named for, it was really gelato the second the “oasis di pellegrino” bar was reached on the trail.

the pilgrim accomodation was not much further, and a wonderful historic church grounds to wash clothes by hand and eat a pasta dinner.  

the spectacular sunset created a perfect light to look at every olive tree and oddity in the yard.

a l t o p a s c i o - s a n •m i n i a t o

“There is more to life than increasing its speed” - Mahatma Gandhi

•• 

Yesterday saw 30 sunny hot kilometers, three coffees, a lost (and found) iphone, two adorable kittens, and to end everything wonderful peach and berry cake made with love and shared around a big table of pilgrims.

the night before we enjoyed a typical small village party in the streets of altopacio.

it was an early morning start the next day. We set off in the dark. I was covered sweat and bugbites before even beginning.

My friend lent me a strong walking sticks and I found a new way to carry my bag.

I saw pigeons on their perch, still under the watchful eye of a ferociously barking dog.

We followed a pair of horseback riders along the river, one with a dressage saddle, one bareback.

I got a bit lost after we stopped for coffee, but I slowly caught back up with everyone. The connection of the path was stronger than any cell service available. 

When we arrived in the town, I realized I had lost my phone somewhere along the path. There was nothing to do but continue to the hostel, so we did. Two friendly kittens made everything okay. 

There was a plate of spaghetti for each of us waiting. I didn’t know what to do about my phone, but for a few hours, there was nothing more urgent than to shower and take a nap, so I did. 

When I woke up, the owner of the hostel had come back, and graciously offered to drive to where I thought I left my phone. The only real directions I could give was that it was after a gas station that began with the letter “T”.

Four pairs of eyes piled in the car for a wild goose chase.  

We split to walk on the path and meet back with the car to drive up to the city again.

We walked 500 meters, scanning the grass for a glint of iPhone - an exercise in futility. Miraculously, this went on for just three minutes before the two in the car called.

”They found it” the other member of the search party shouted. 

I had no idea how this was true, but it was.  

They found the cafe I had stopped in for water and left my phone with right away by car. 

With everything back in order, there was nothing to do but relax before dinner. 

I put my phone away to enjoy the food and company, and it was wonderful. 

- a l t o p a s c i o

“there are always flowers for those who want to see them” - Henry Matisse

Today saw a “molto brutto” stage of the Road to Rome, leaving bellissima Lucca to hike on mostly flat road to Altopascio. 

And yet, the path is changing in another way as I get closer and closer to Rome.

There are more and more other pilgrims on the road now. The Via Francigena is very well ordered into about 18 days or “stages” from here to Rome. The discipline of setting a target each day, waking up very early to start, and crucially, stopping when it is reached, has been a pleasure. 

Villafranca to Aulla was the last day I walked by myself, and I am really grateful. Walking with other people throughout the path has been a huge relief.

You can work together to find the path. There is peace of mind knowing you could help each other if you suddenly had a need. When then the path is industrial and lacking in aesthetic, you can turn your attention towards learning about the people around you from all different places in the world and life. 

Yesterday, we arrived at 12PM so I had much more time to visit the Lucca and the others I walked with amicably made a small tour of the cathedrals, plaza, walls of the city and local food.

When I arrived back at the hostel, I was dead tired, but I finally figured out who I was sharing a room with - Alice (ah-li-ché), a girl the same age as me who came from Firenze to walk the Via Francigena from Lucca to Rome.

I didn’t know this at first, I just said yes to tagging along to view the eclipse with her and some filmmakers from Lille in northern France, because I knew I would have to wait 100 years for another chance. 

It was fun. Curiously, the highlight of watching the lunar eclipse was listening on the sound equipment one of the filmmakers brought to record the night in lieu of taking pictures.

With a microphone on a small stand and headphones on, you could hear all the sounds of Lucca on an alive night- cars closing in the distance, someone a few meters away explaining how an eclipse works in Italian, children running and laughing outside the city walls, a little more opera singing, motorcycles.

I could never have imagined that experience. Staying up a little late for the eclipse led to a great day. Alice and I coordinated waking up early to walk together and yesterday’s army grew by one more.

c a m a i o r e - l u c c a

“things don’t have to change the world to be important” - steve jobs

I am writing from the loveliest cafe in Lucca. It’s 3PM and I am drinking an American coffee.

Because Cappuccino after 10AM - never! 

Okay, on different day this cafe playing Dua Lipa and selling Herschel backpacks might look suspiciously like an Italian version of Urban Outfitters but- the coffee is wonderful, everything is marble and I am floating on a cloud.

Today’s walk was about 25km. I began before 5AM. I actually thought I was waking up in the middle of the night to get water from the kitchen, but the other pilgrims in the hostel were taking coffee to start the day.

In a moment, I decided to grab my tiny backpack in the dark and join them. 

My one hesitation was that I wanted to say goodbye again to my friends Francesca and LeLe.

It felt like a good omen that as I was heading down the stairs to leave Francesca had also woken up in the night (or maybe it was my rustling next door) to say bye once more.

I fastened my still wet socks to top of my backpack.

We started walking five deep in the dark. 

The pace was brisk. Among the ranks of the pilgrims was Massimo, an Italian retiree who had amassed 77 marathons over a running career of more than 30 years.

“When I run a 42km marathon”, he said, “and I have 41 km in my legs and one remaining, I start thinking about the next marathon” 

It’s always nice to meet people who speak your language! 

We walked about 6 hours, covering 4-5 kilometers some hours.

Some uphill was challenging for me. I took energy from my new yellow Via Francigena scarf from LeLe and Francesca, already  glued to my ​forehead with salty sweat. 

But what I will remember most about today is maybe the precious hour we spent having coffee with Sergio and Rossetta, an octogenarian couple living in town of 180 people. They invited us in their home just after chatting with us on the road.

They showed us what they loved the most, their garden and their one “bella regazza” - beautiful daughter. 

It was a wonderful repose.  

The trail continued, a small army that occasionally lost one to a phone call or stop inside a church. We passed several churches, without bothering to stop, though, the Italians pointed out, several predated the discovery of America in 1492.

 The last part of the trail was flat and followed a river, another nice repose, and before noon we were in Lucca, a chic Tuscan city with the best gelato, the prettiest violin and opera music floating into the streets from practice studios, and the cleanest shower in the world. 

m a s s a - c a m a i o r e

 “...waking at very early dawn amid all that sweat, he had found himself comparing this journey with his own life...”

- Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa, El Gattopardi

Today saw 30km from Massa to Camiaore. 

The day was hot and the path was climbing and full of surprises.

A view of the Mediterranean Sea and the first town of the Cinque Terre.

A sculpture and frescos by Botero inside a cathedral in Pietrasanta...

In the final kilometer of the walk, a beautiful beautiful papagayo who didn’t mind playing show-off for us.

Upon reaching the hostel, I realized my friends would be leaving tomorrow- a reality of pilgrimage. 

It was very special to me that they surprised me with a gift- a Via Francigena scarf printed custom by an artist friend- to match theirs.

 “Send is a picture with it when you get to Rome!”  they said. 

I’m working on it! 

c a n i p a r o l a - m a s s a

 “It’s fun to be alive. It’s a hell of a lot better than being dead” - Joe Strummer

••

Today! The new routine of prying my eyes open at 5:30 AM and heading out the door as soon as possible is going well!

This morning saw a beautiful sunrise.

Between the microwave and the tiny electric kettle, there was instant coffee for all at the pilgrim hostel.

Yet, once I found the Via Francigena path and was walking along, I couldn’t resist the open door of the first cafe for a proper Italian coffee.

While I was still there, the Italians, Francesca and LeLe, I had been on the path with since Aulla, also stopped by.

“Ciao! Ciao!”

I was going a little slowly over my coffee. But I knew that their target for the day was Massa, like mine, and that they would make good time.

I hustled to fall in step behind. 

As much as the solitude of walking alone is tonic, walking with other people keeps me going! 

Even better, Francesca and LeLe’s style of walking was just like mine ​

“7 hours for walking, 2 hours for the photos”​

Francesca joked aptly..​

and ​nearing the midway point to Massa, LeLe got serious-

“Target: Gelato​.”

So we speak the same language after all!

The trail climbed to vineyards and views of the Mediterranean Sea. The clouds helped cover the sun. We found wild berries.  

I learned something awesome from Francesca. I asked when the figs would be ripe, and she told me usually the end of August or September. Bt actually, it’s possible for some fruit to ripen before. Even individual fruits on the same tree can ripen a month or two apart from each other. I love a metaphor, so I put this amazing nature fact in my back pocket for the next time I feel tempted to compare my trajectory to my peers’...

We passed marble factories and they pointed out the mountains where the marble was extracted from. I noticed even the street curbs and the stairs of the convenience store, was white marble.

We approached Massa with some hills. The word “hill” apparently sounds indistinguishable from the word “hell” to Italian pilgrim ears. So I learned a new word, “inferno”, and saved a little inspiration for today’s quote.

a u l l a - c a n i p a r o l a

 “I was a sunburnt pagan now. I felt privy to mysteries” - William Finnegan, Barbarian Days

 ••

Today’s went from Aulla to Caniparola, just outside Sarzana.

I left at 6AM this morning and finished with plenty of daylight. By 4pm, I was jockeying for the shower with the same pilgrims that just this morning I had eyed taking last cream-filled croissant from the bakery on the Via Francigena path.

My clothes are now drying in the sun and im listening to some siesta snores from the top bunk. So this is what it’s about!

Actually though, it was really cool to start and end the day with other pilgrims on the road. I was determined to do things differently. I was the first to leave this morning at 6am. At the bakery, I saw some others, but they didn’t want me to wait.

“I’ll catch up, we are going on the same path”.

When I stopped to stretch, I did catch up with the first pilgrim. When I stopped to take pictures, I lost her.

I came to a picnic table and decided to reorganize my backpack in the sunlight.

While I was taking this second break, the Italian couple I joined for dinner the night before passed me with their walking poles. I said hi as I  finished folding and rearranging my things to satisfaction, and never caught up with them again on the trail.

After breezing through a tiny town with no cafe (I tried!) the trail started climbing and climbing. I thought I saw a VF trail marker, but I became nervous when I checked my compass and I seemed to be going north. I walked a good 400 meters back to study the last marker.

“Painful mistake”

The Flemish accent of one half of the retired pilgrim couple I also met at the ostello summarized this 1km detour on one of the most difficult parts of the trail.

But no matter, now I had backtracked enough to share the trail with him and his wife. I knew they would climb slowly and accurately.

He checked something that looked like a beeper and assured his wife there was only 500 meters of climbing left. I had also met her the night before.

I remembered  as she put her things down on a cot, she had the look of the a pilgrim who had spent all day in the hot sun and was audibly out of breath.

Respect!

I asked what their objective for the day was; the ostello 3km outside Sarzana, like me. And I decided to fall in step behind. I trusted they were going to make it, early and out of breath, more than I trusted myself.

Following behind two massive backpacks on the uphill reminded me it isn’t easy for anyone.

Finally the climbing stopped, and we took a break at the top of the hill.

Another couple from the night before caught up; from Poland. The man was stoic. His wife, Anna, a geography teacher, was almost a Pixar animation. From talking to them and looking at the patches on their bag, I learned they had made many, many, pilgrim ways over the years, including very long and difficult ones I had never heard- from Poland to Rome! Passing the Pyrenees! 

But at the end of the 500 meters of climbing in Tuscany today, a relatively small feat, Anna danced in celebration.

What a vibe!

We took a selfie - “say marmalade!”

When we started walking the group spread out a bit again. I reached the St. Antonio ostello with the Belgians and completed my new routine. A shower with a tiny piece of soap that I also used to wash my clothes in the sink, a lay down, and some time to write.

The Italian pilgrim couple was there too! They invited me to a program going on at the church; a presentation on athletes with physical handicaps cycling from Rome to Santiago.

The athletes connected with the pilgrims, like this man who gave the Camino bracelet he was wearing for five years to one of the cyclists.  

It was a very cool ending to a hot Italian summer day. 

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v i l l a f r a n c a - a u l l a

 Each day is a little life; every waking and rising a little birth; every fresh morning a little youth; every going to rest and sleep a little death. - Arthur Schopenhauer

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Today was a very short day of walking. But I hope a very important day of the trip. 

When I left the albergo, Giancarlo said that my target for the day Aulla, was only 10km away as far as he knew, maybe 40km (did he mean 14?) by the Via Francigena.

I thought since I had taken such a long way yesterday, I would try the most direct route today. I walked a very unscenic path along cars and gas stations to Aulla, until I found the bicycle path, which worked very well. 

I arrived in Aulla with plenty of time to spare, and looked at the pilgrim musuem there. I asked for a stamp. I tried to show that my pilgrim passport was full and I wanted to buy another if possible. I thought this was successful. 

Then I tried to ask what the pilgrim accomodation was. The volunteer told me she did not know. But I saw a sign for the abbey. I knew I had to be in the right place.

I watched the volunteer lead another pilgrim with walking sticks, a sun hat and a big bag pack to a building behind the church. 

I was sure I was in the right place! But why hadn’t the volunteer showed me the way? I read a paper on the musuem table about the accomodation for pilgrims, very clearly printed in 4 languages, including English.

I realized very sheepishly that since I was walking with the tiny canvas daybag I had picked up at the the Col de Grand San Bernard Giftshop, and a cool linen dress with my sneakers because my other two outfits were dirty, the volunteer had just quickly judged I was a lost tourist looking for a hotel, not a Via Francigena pilgrim looking for the abbey.

I found this kind of funny. I showed all the stamps on my passport since Canterbury and a photo of my the big backpack I left behind. I don’t even think I had to do all that, just asking a second time was enough.

But something crystallized. Watching the other pilgrims filter in, all arriving in the early afternoon in a uniform of big Osprey backpacks, wide brim hats, and walking sticks, I saw a real part of the walking/pilgrim culture people who have done the Camino de Santiago first (which is most people) talk about.

On my lonely track, I had been taking notes from Simone De Beauvoir, who I read in a panel somewhere in France “didn’t bother with all the preliminaries, and never obtained the semi-official rig of rucksack, studded shoes, rough skirt and windcheater breaker”.

I watched the other pilgrims wash their clothes in the sink first thing and put them in the sun to dry, then relax and organize their packs.

Yup, never tried it.

I talked to the other people in the room who wanted to know how many kilometers I was making everyday. I watched people take out their thread and needle for blisters.

So this is the simple rhythm of life people are enjoying when they talk about pilgrimage.

The girl on the bottom bunk who said she would start at 6am tomorrow.

To me, a lot of the Via Francigena experience has been as erratic and eccentric, as full of people and media and tangents as my life in New York

My pilgrim life has happened between the hours of 10AM to 10PM. It never took on the measured, disciplined satisfaction I used to feel about recycling, laundry, and cleaning when I stuck to the same routine for 4 months, part of a time when I moved outside Manhattan and saved carefully for a trip like this someday.

I reflected on all this as I took a shower, washed my clothes in the sink, and angled them in the sun to dry.

tie dye crop top of mine fell below the balcony and an Italian nun in a white and beige habit retrieved it without translation.

Maybe there was something to being a 6am pilgrim, a sub 4 marathoner, someone whose phone stays charged and follows their GPS. I still had time to find out.

With my extra hour before dinner, I sat at the fold out table in the window and put pen to paper. I copied the name of each city remaining from the Via Francigena app into the days of my paper planner with the distance in kilometers. I caught a glimpse of Rome and experienced a new thrill.

- v i l l a f r a n c a

 “Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things.” -  Phillipians 4:8

Good morning from Tuscany! Have you ever seen such a beautiful sky? Yesterday saw a day of walking about 20 km along the ancient Via Francigena path from Pontremoli to Villafranca (halfway to Aulla). 

There are two Via Francigena paths that run from Pontremoli to Aulla; I think I took the long one.

A clap of thunder sounded as I set off on the path. I put my raincoat on over myself and my small canvas backpack for about 10 minutes until the rain passed.

The first part of the trail hiked up into the woods behind some beautiful Tuscan homes, then emptied to a more commercial road.

On the road was an open bakery with pink boxes. I stopped.

Outside, I was happy to spy an olive tree growing in front of a pretty orange house. I recently learned to identify olive trees by their delicate pale green leaves, and promised one of my Aunts to photo some here! The next part of the trail was mostly a cobblestone path through the forest. The stones were slightly wet from the rain. In places, they built a bridge across shallow running water.

I stepped carefully and with my camera pointed.

I walked through a small medieval town, Filaterria, during another brief rain. The chapel was marked everywhere as a stop for the Via Francigena, and I enjoyed a shelter from the rain there.

The path led out of the town from the chapel directly into the woods. Boisterous voices in the distance signaled life in the city center on a Sunday.

Bamboo trees on the trail (like the ones that invaded my grandmother’s garden for years), then a horse farm where I took coffee from a tack room vending machine reminded me of home.

“Connet- i - gut”

When I finally arrived at Villafranca, the albergo owner, a man with white hair and dark rimmed glasses named Giancarlo,  took my passport as a matter of form and flipped to the front page for a short biography.

“You were born in Connet-i-gut”.

It’s true. And I was pretty sure even without seeing it written, that his name was Giancarlo.

At least, I remembered

“Gian-carl-ooooooo!”

Was the magic word the massive Italian smoking a cigar outside the hotel had yelled towards an open window to commence business hours when I arrived. For a terse minute before this, it was all locked doors, a blank look and my backpack.

I guess that’s how things are working here in Italy, and I was so glad. They offered me a nice room at a small price. The church in town had recommended them as the Via Francigena accommodation in this town,  smaller than than the others on the way.

The restaurant where dinner was served had a lot of life though, of it supplied by Giancarlo himself, who told jokes at every table and translated the German menu into English in no particular order. 

I had an Italian coffee to finish one of the most delicious meals yet and slept beautifully.