Ok, I'm finally ready to blog.
My trip was fantastic. I've been home now since Friday night. Getting back into the groove here. It's taking a lot of my energy to do that. I know, it sounds silly, but I'm having a lot of internal fights with myself. After 2 weeks there, I know that is where I belong.
The natural beauty is just amazing. Coming back to my flatland just isn't the same. The history that surrounded me was so hard to wrap my brain around. I was staying in a place that is over 1000 years old. The wall surrounding the city was built before Christ walked the earth by the Etruscans. Walking the streets that St. Francis walked is chilling and calming at the same time. I was in a constant state of wow. Every morning, stepping outside and seeing this:
When I was ready for a cappuccino in the morning or a drink at night, I'd sit here, under the umbrellas. Half the town would congregate here. Having a gelato, caffe, panini, or drink.
Sitting in front of The Palazzetto Del Podesta where the coffee bar is located, we would be looking at San Crispolto church and the fountain. Our residence was located next door and to the left of San Crispolto church. San Crispolto (or Crispolito) is the Patron Saint of Bettona.
It was really interesting how so many would gather at the Palazzetto to sit and chat. Everyone would be there, discussing the days events. Sometimes there were other tourists there, you could hear them speaking in French or German, but the rarity was someone speaking English. Then one night sitting at the caffe, my companion had gone inside to get us another drink and this older gentleman commented to me 'lovely night we are having here'. It was a very thick Scottish brogue and a bit hard to understand, but after only hearing my companions voice in English, it was a wonderful sound. I wish I would have taken a picture of Mario. He was born in Bettona and full-blooded Italian, but for whatever reason, he moved to Scotland at a very young age. He was back in Bettona to visit his sister and brother-in-law. You could tell he was missing the English language as well. He loved to sit with us and chat. He was at least 80, walked with a cane, and had had a couple of strokes over the last few years.
It was really interesting how so many would gather at the Palazzetto to sit and chat. Everyone would be there, discussing the days events. Sometimes there were other tourists there, you could hear them speaking in French or German, but the rarity was someone speaking English. Then one night sitting at the caffe, my companion had gone inside to get us another drink and this older gentleman commented to me 'lovely night we are having here'. It was a very thick Scottish brogue and a bit hard to understand, but after only hearing my companions voice in English, it was a wonderful sound. I wish I would have taken a picture of Mario. He was born in Bettona and full-blooded Italian, but for whatever reason, he moved to Scotland at a very young age. He was back in Bettona to visit his sister and brother-in-law. You could tell he was missing the English language as well. He loved to sit with us and chat. He was at least 80, walked with a cane, and had had a couple of strokes over the last few years.
As our day was over, this is the door we would go through to get to our apartment. The door is the front door of my friend's home. You may not be into that type of stuff, but the craftmanship was just beautiful. The two women are Ola on the left (our hostess) and her neighbor lady, never did catch her name.
The last thing we would see at night before bed (well, night is relative, it was typically early morning)
So, in the next few days, I'll post some more photos and tell about those.
While there, I really missed ice and A/C. Now that I'm home, ice and A/C really aren't that big of a deal.
