Casica, Italy: Day 9

 Oh, what the heck. Let's do post #3 for today. See what happens when I finally get a day off of work and I have to stay home? Guess there's a bright side to having to have concrete poured for a new sidewalk.

Tuesday, September 27th, 2022:

Allyson finally starts getting better! I was half-joking on the bus ride from Assisi that morning with Mom that, "Yeah, Padre Pio was supposed to help me get better because I think he said something about wanting to help all the sick and suffering while he was alive and continue in heaven, but nope. I had to go see St. Francis for that."  And, because I got to sit in the front seat (because that's what motion-sick people get to do), Francesco heard me and he turned around and smiled and was happy that his saint got to help me feel better. Should've gone to Assisi before now. Have I mentioned that he is a great guy?

I really liked Cascia. I really like St. Rita. A few years ago, I watched a movie about her life on Formed.org and just really got into her story. Just as a warning, though, it is a super long movie with at least two parts. But well worth the watch. 

St. Rita, welcoming everyone to Casica:

Off the bus to walk to the monastery:

Just snapping a few pictures as we wait:

Around the door of the Major Basilica:

Downstairs, we went into the chapel that houses another Eucharistic miracle, and got to have Mass:

After Mass, we went back out and up the hill to the left side of the Basilica to take a tour inside the monastery.

Here we are waiting at the door for our tour guide. He was a monk that is allowed to take tourists inside. Once he arrived, he rang the bell and a sister let us in. Only the sisters who have jobs selling and giving items to tourists and visitors and the door keeper is allowed contact with the outside world. The other sisters are cloistered and have to leave the areas where the tour is done until the "all clear" (though, they probably don't use that phrase) is given.

First, we arrived at the place where they discovered St. Rita inside the monastery. St. Rita wanted to join when she was very young, but they would not let her. Then, she was married. Her husband and his family were not very nice people. Suffice to say, she suffered many years until he finally converted. Then, when he died, her in-laws tried to take her sons to raise them, but she knew that they would be raised to do terrible things. She prayed and prayed. God answered her prayer by having them die. 

A little while later, she wanted to join the monastery again, but they still wouldn't let her, mostly because one of the women in there was her in-law and didn't want her there. One morning, they found her in this courtyard, though it would be impossible to get in there without going through the main entrance. They took this as a miraculous sign that she should be allowed to join.

One of the tasks St. Rita was given was to take care of this vine. It was obviously dead, but she did as she was told, as obedience was one of her vows. As you can see, it is still flourishing:

I can't remember for certain, but I think these are holes from bees. St. Rita is also known for having bees fly into her mouth when she was an infant, but they never harmed her.

Inside one of the rooms is the first casket where St. Rita lay and a painting depicting Jesus and Mary appearing to her. St. Rita had the stigmata on her forehead. Apparently, it smelled horrible. She once wanted to make a pilgrimage to Rome, but they didn't want her to go because of the stench. She prayed and it went away, so they let her go. She walked all the way to Rome and back. When she returned, so did the stigmata.

Here are her Our Father beads. Little history: many religious had beads they used to pray the Our Father. This is a "predecessor", if you will, of rosaries. I only know this because I've been reading a book by Fr. Calloway.

Inside her old casket are old letters to her.

Here is the rose garden. St. Rita is also associated with roses. From what I was told, she prayed that God would give her a sign that her husband and two boys were in heaven. She asked for a rose and two figs. At this time, she was in bed, very seriously ill, in the middle of winter. The sister she asked to go and get them for her thought she was delirious, but did it anyway. Low and behold, there were the figs and the rose.

The tour didn't cover a lot of ground inside the monastery, but it is the home of cloistered nuns, after all. But very, very interesting. I really liked it. 

Back outside, I got a picture of the other side of the door:

And went inside the Major Basilica. It's not the prettiest in Italy, especially for those who don't like bright colors. Many of my fellow tourists thought it was ugly. I'm not sure I minded it, but no, it doesn't make my list. I just liked the way I felt, sitting in there. But, I feel at peace in most churches.

St. Rita was found incorruptible, but she isn't anymore.

Afterwards, we had time on our own. Mom went shopping beforehand for jewelry. Oh, another part of our tour included the fact that sometimes people smell roses inside the Basilica. We take it as a sign that St. Rita is there or answering our prayers, sort of like St. Terese of Liseux. I didn't smell any inside the basilica, but everywhere else. I wondered if that was because I have a really good sense of smell and there were roses growing in various spots in the city. Mom says it was St. Rita. Maybe, maybe...especially since I didn't have my nose 100% better yet. I'll let you decide.

We had chocolate and cherry gelato! So, so good.

 

Then, we decided to go back towards the bus, because there were a few little places that sold food down there. Probably should eat something besides Italian ice cream...

I snapped a picture of the place we got a sandwich at for lunch right before we drove away. It was amazingly good, but it was just pork and bread. Local food is so good when you're hungry. Normally, I'm not big on pig (ha ha ha. See what I did there). At the risk of being whipped, I can admit that I could probably live the rest of my life without pig...bacon, sausage, etc. I do love my pepperoni pizza and ham is good instead of sausage. But that sandwich in Casica was really, really good.

We got back to Rome. This time, we stayed at a different hotel. Here's a pretty bush outside the hotel:

One of the other tourists took a picture of Mom and me in Casica on Mom's phone:

We were able to have one last dinner with everyone in Rome. Francesco even came with us, though he didn't have to do so. My sister-in-law, Jen, also joined us, because she was sick of having all her meals picked out for her (on her tour, all her meals were already included. On ours, there were only a few dinners like that and then the rest were on our own). I didn't really realize it until she pointed it out, but Italians don't eat vegetables very often. Olive oil and pasta is big, of course. 

Maybe I'll do a post only about food for Italy sometime.

Tour days are officially over! Next post is about our extra day in Rome before Ordination Day.

Assisi, Italy: Day 8

 Double-feature today, I guess.

Monday, September 26th, 2022

Who woke up and wasn't any better? Rhetorical question.

Another grey day in Italy. The best part was that it wasn't hot, but I didn't realize this until when we got back to Rome.

Assisi is basically a city on a hill...or multiple hills as I later discovered speed walking through it. 

Assisi is basically guarded by St. Francis' Basilica on the left and St. Clare's Basilica on the right. We went to St. Clare's and walked, ending our day at St. Francis'.

We didn't get to visit the castle in Assisi, but we did see it:

I'm sorry, but I'm just not a fan of the striped outside. Everyone was like, "Oh cool! This is different." Sure. And it's ugly. Moving on.

The inside was okay, but no pictures! No, no, no. No pictures inside anything in Assisi. That's how everyone gets you to go there, I think. This is how you get tourists to Assisi: don't let anyone take pictures so they have to come themselves. And go back again and again.

 

 

After visiting St. Clare's Basilica and walking around. It was time to start our speed-walking tour. This was, by far, the worst tour. So, I'm the youngest person in the group (of course. I'm always the youngest on these things). There are people walking with canes. There are people who've had their knees replaced. There are people who have had other injuries. And this older gentleman just kept high speed walking, not even waiting on anyone. In the middle of the tour, he stopped at a public rest area and, of course, most of the women went, including Mom. It's a good thing that I didn't have to go and that I waited on her, or she'd still be in Assisi...

Well, probably not. Francesco is too nice to leave us behind.

But still. 

Our tour guide for Assisi didn't wait on anyone. Mom and I walked so fast up and down those ridiculous Assisi hills, out of breath and not hearing anything on the stupid radio that was connected to the microphone all our tour guides used. 

I did get some pictures of the town before the bathroom break, though.

We also got to stop in and see Blessed Carlos Acutis, because a lot of our group requested we go see him. Fun fact: he was not Italian, but he loved Assisi so much that he and his parents moved there. I'm told that his mother goes to the chapel where he is and gives talks on him often.

Hey, look: Mom and I finally caught up with everyone at the Basilica of St. Francis. By this time, she was very mad, rightfully so. Have you ever been so sick and so tired that you just don't care anymore? That's where I was at.

Ciao, St. Francis' statue:

No photos inside! 

We got to have Mass there, I believe. We also got another tour inside with one of the Franciscan monks. I felt sorry for him, having to talk over me and one of the Julies coughing the entire time in the front row. I was pretty irate at the other tourists in our group for that. They all went in before us, but only left the seat front and center for me, Julie, Mom, and Julie's husband to sit. Nothing like giving a talk to people who are coughing up a storm right in front of you. We should've sat in the back. Julie actually went out at one point, I believe. I figured that if the others couldn't hear, it was their own blasted fault for making me sit in the front.

St. Francis' Basilica was much prettier than St. Clare's. Don't believe me? Go there yourself. I dare you to try to take pictures so we can compare notes.

I'm so bitter about Assisi. I'm sorry. It's really not the city's nor the citizen's fault.

Interesting story: Many Italians go to Assisi to pray to have children, especially if they are having trouble having any kids. Francesco said that this was the case for his parents. They came to pray in Assisi and he was born. They named him Francesco because of St. Francis...because "Francesco" is "Francis" in Italian. He also has a sister named after St. Clare. We dedicated our Mass in Assisi in thanksgiving for Francesco.

So, it wasn't a totally bad day.

After all our tours, we were free to walk around Assisi and get lunch on our own...as if we hadn't just ran the entire town. Sorry, sorry.

Mom and I found a shop window with Harry Potter stuff!

 

We ended up going to a little shop that sold cannola (We call them cannoli here in the US, but "cannola" is the singular of "cannoli" in Italy). We bought a sandwich which was so good. Then again, we were so hungry. We also bought a lemon cannola. To be honest, it's not my thing. Very, very sugary. I recommend just finding gelato. 

As we're eating on the side of the street outside the little shop, we spot some other tourists. You can just tell when someone isn't Italian by looking at them. Don't ask me to explain. I can't. But it is also a dead giveaway when they start speaking English. It was a family from Wales, if I'm remembering correctly. They were interesting and very friendly. Mom had to be the first to speak up and introduce us, though, because I was still eating and I'm a shy introvert and I don't roll that way. Say hi to me first and then I'll talk to you. If you're going to stare at me, I'll stare back. It was awkward. Thank goodness for my mom. 

 

We finally found somewhere to sit for a while down a hill, but then it started raining. Good thing Mom was carrying around her umbrella. We decided to start walking back to the place where our bus was going to meet us. 

After waiting around under a bridge for the rain to let up, because it was really down-pouring, we got to the bus lot and waited around with some of the other tourists in our group, just talking about previous trips. This particular couple was from New York. They had been on so many trips, including the Holy Land. 

I was happy to finally sit down when the bus got there.

Spoiler for the next post? That's the day I actually start feeling better.