Let's compare the two.
They both have white beards. They both have brown robes with hoods. They both look old in their official pictures.
When I was little, I was hopelessly confused. It's a good thing I figured out the difference before I came to Italy, otherwise I would think that I'm living in a country full of Star War freaks.
Padre Pio is everywhere here. So last month, I decided to put myself down there in San Giovanni Rotondo, the burial place of San P. He's been in the news lately because the Franciscans who take care of his tomb started the process to put his body on display (covered by a thin layer of wax, under glass), and his family protested. Apparently there's an Italian law which prohibits the display of corpses, which is pretty funny, considering that this is The Land of Relics and Dead People and Dead People Bones and Dead People Tongues and Dead People In Every Church for you to see. But, to Italy's happiness, the Franciscans won. Visitors to SGinR are expected to surpass Lourdes this year because of it.
To get to SanG, I got up at 5.30 AM and took a series of trains that got me to Foggia by noon. Then I took a bus across plain and field . . .
And promptly got on a bus with Jen to go to Monte San Michele, a beautiful seaside town on a hill with white buildings and the customary narrow streets. There's a famous grotto there that Saint Michael the Archangel appeared 4 times in during the middle ages. Unfortunately they don't allow pictures, so I took pictures of the town instead.
The parts of the town close to the sea - especially the embankments - reminded me so much of Malta. Jen and I had some fantastic conversations as we walked through the streets, checking into novelty shops and looking at all the great local food specialties. One huge negozio had everything you could imagine . . . homemade limoncello, jarred apricots, dried pepperoncino, every type of bread you could imagine - all with homemade tags telling you the prices and what things were. It was fantastic.
I was especially fascinated by the way this region of Italy displays its bread outside the store. All of the shops had round wheels with their pane and dolce arranged for you to see. The region is famous for a curiousity called "Ostie Piene" (probably misspelled that), which translates into "filled hosts." They take two unleavened host-like breads and put almonds and drizzle a sticky honey-lemon concoction in between the two.
Jen and I plopped ourselves down on a wall above a lower embankment and talked about hypothetical children falling off such high unfenced walls. Funny how you only think about such things when you get older. Italy isn't exactly the most safety- conscious place in the universe.
The statue above, my friend, made me giggle for about 3 days. Jen and I found the kitschiest store you could imagine, and after looking at bubble toys, fake Barbie heads, and Marys floating in lava lamps, I thought I'd seen it all. Until I saw the 1970 version of disco-hair Michael who looks like he happened to step on something nasty on the way to meet his prom date. The outstretched hands are what did me in.
I still wish I'd bought it.
The way back to San G had some gorgeous scenery . . . like this mountain, which looks like it got knuckled by a giant . . .
But what I really loved was going to Sunday Mass at the beautiful modern shrine in San Giovanni the next morning. Blogger stopped responding to picture uploads, so more images will have to wait. I loved how the shrine's curving sections converging at the main altar broke up the space and eliminated the "airplane hangar" large-church feel. The massive semi-circular window covered with medieval illuminations brings a rich, traditional, prayerful atmosphere that most modern churches usually lack. I was absorbed with their beauty and theology during the entire Mass (which was in Italian, so I have an excuse for the distraction).
After Mass, I spent three hours waiting to view PP's tomb/body, only to have to leave 10 minutes before I would have got in because I *had* to catch my bus to catch the train. C'est la vie. More photos coming soon!
1 comment:
St. Mike - "Oh, man! Dog poop on my gladiator sandals. This is the shiz!"
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