Assissi!

Alex's big thing that he wanted to do in Rome was to, erm.... leave the big smoke behind and go to Assisi. Home of St Francis and host to squillions of nuns in a rainbow of habits from around the world. And I thought the sisters were out in force in Rome? I had to think again.

Assissi is, like Siena, one of those 'once heavily fortified' medieval hilltop towns, this time in Umbria. Its slopes are so steep that the railway, which needs flat land, is 5kms from the city gates, which still look like they could withstand a moderate sized beseiging army.
The Duomo (or cathedral) is somethign of a wonder - a small humble church with low ceilinged crypt that is home to the earthy remains of the saint and his four boon companions, and a later, soaring masterpiece that has survived fire and earthquake and centuries of politicking. Fear of fire is surely behind the electric candles that adorn the shrine (unless, in making Francis the Patron Saint of Italy they also annointed him the patron saint of tizzy tat). Whatever. They don't work. I put in 2 euro and not a single candle lit up. Ripped of by God in the bosom of St Francis. Bugger. It mattered not. After taking sqillions of photos at the Duomo we headed off in search of lunch, but got sidetracked by a 3 hour exploration that took us right to the top of the hill above the town and all the way through the Rocca Majore, the stone fortress that has spent as much of its history protecting its occupants from the townsfolk as it has protecting the townsfolk from outsiders. I'm gonna save the stories for when Ants comes back and we go there. But suffice to say that as you stood on the top on this windy, windy day and looked down, it was all to easy to imagine steadholders racing towards the gate, hustling sheep and children in skirts before them, in advance of a beseiging army... John Hawkwood had a lot to answer for.
Eventually we found our way back to our chosen lunchspot - only to realise it was 3pm! But we were in luck - on hearing my stumbling attempts to apologise in Italia for the hour but praising her restaurant for havig the best charisma, the charming hostess gave us a table with an amazing view and asked only that we order quickly. It was amazing... truffle pasta, prosecco, antipasti, dessert... lush.

There was barely time to check out the church of Santa Chiara (Clare), Francis's bestest childhood companion who followed him into holy orders and whose pink and white striped marble edifice is not a patch on her famous cousin's. Suddenly we had only moments to pick up souvenirs and gelati and make our way back to the bus, and the train.
But I cannot wait to come back. With Ants. He will love this.