Boring really should be cultivated

The dratted thing is that my phone uploads are still stuck on Central Time, so my days get cut in half weirdly.  So accept that at some point evening comes and at another point morning follows and there are lots of days.  

One of the things I was most looking forward to on this trip was the peace of Assisi.  I've been there twice before and the thing that really stays with you is the simplicity of the town.  Walking through the quiet little streets; smiling at the few people you pass who are more often than not in habit and typically praying the rosary or reveling in the tranquility;  breathing the quiet, still air; viewing the world from up high - it just leaves you with a sense of pure peace.  

Sunday morning, we went to Mass at Santa Chiara (Saint Clare's, which is connected to the original Poor Clare monastery).  And I was horrified.  We got the mass time wrong, so arrived an hour early.  It gave us a few moments to wander the Basilica beforehand.  In one of the side chapels, there is the San Damiano Cross (from which Jesus spoke to St. Francis, telling him to "Rebuild My Church, which is in ruins".)  

                                    

("It's only a model", since there is no photography in the chapel)  

Underneath the church is the crypt where St. Clare is buried and you can also see her "wedding" dress (from the day she took her vows)

and her habit.  

And Mass itself was lovely.  The sisters were also attending that Mass, so we got to hear them singing and praying with us.    

But back to the horrified bit.  At first, it was just bizarre:  The church was so full.  There were more people in the church alone (which isn't particularly large - much smaller even than our parish back home) than I think I saw in my entire first trip to Assisi.  And they weren't there for Mass or to pray, they were just there as tourists.  Don't get me wrong, there are always people visiting Assisi.  But never like.... this.  I couldn't quite put my finger on it.    More on that as the trip continues.  

Next comes a picture dump, in no particular order.  

The requisite group shot, complete with heavy jackets because it was flippin' COLD!  

                        

See poor Jonathan, who had left his jacket in the car half a mile away.  

Oh look.  Rain.  

In front of the Basilica of St. Francis.  Sacred bonsai.  Whoda thunk? 

We were there for two nights and as the time continued, the crowds didn't disperse.  Unless it was actively raining, the streets were filled and every cafe and shop was filled with loud people and cheap knick-knacks.  Of course there were trinket shops before, but most of them were filled with books about Francis, Tao crosses, rosaries (and admittedly tacky St. Francis statues and cheesy plaques) and postcards, not Pope Francis bobble-head dolls.

I felt a bit like I was in The Twilight Zone.

 So on Tuesday morning, it was time to leave.  As everyone always does, Mum had put off writing post cards till it was time to go, so we stopped to get coffee and pastries before heading out of town.

Yes Christine, that little purple backpack really has gone everywhere with us.  

As we headed back to our cars, the roads (which were, again, filled with more cars than I've ever seen) were damp (@#$%  rain) and my dad took one wrong step and fell.  Unfortunately, he twisted his ankle and his bad knee as he fell.  We were immediately helped out by some Good Samaritans driving by.  Aspirin, knee brace, leg room,  and we wanted nothing more than to get out of there.  

In two cars.  Only God can express just how much more than anything I hated having two cars at that moment.  

 Now, to quote the Princess Bride, "Buttercup does not die at this time."  Nothing was broken, we could buy crutches in Rome, and purple is the new "in" color, right? But what a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad end to what should have been the most peaceful part of the trip.

These things do I hate, these three are an abomination:  rain, tourists, and two cars.