Friday, Oct. 12th

By this point I’m counting the days and hours until I fly home. I miss my kids enough to bring them in conversation just about every meal, etc. and people are noticing. I run to the phone or IC at every opportunity. I keep a running total of hours until we depart.

River leaves early for the piazza with the NJ ladies (apparently they’re all coffee hounds) while I hit breakfast. I eat something like Italian Cocoa Puffs and the usual bread and yogurt mix. I don’t get a diet coke and a slight headache works into my system. Kyle, a retired man on the pilgrimage with his wife, and I talk about the pros and cons of his retirement during breakfast. After a few minutes to gather our things we leave for the walk to St. Francis’ Basilica. I take a couple pictures from right in front of the basilica just as the shadows arrive.
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Priest takes us directly to the tomb, past the guards and through the growing crowd. Large slabs of rock, I don’t know what kind, are behind grates in the center of a chapel. Four small spaces radiate like spokes from the center. I’m not sure if this is Francis’ burial place, at first, but somebody tells me Francis is buried under the slabs. Maybe I should have paid attention in lecture. His closest friends are buried near each of the spokes. Priest and Brother J say mass while BN bars tourists from breaking into the chapel during the service. I’m tired, worn out, so I have a hard time focusing on mass. After the service we go out into the courtyard and chat until we get a set of small receivers with clear plastic tubes from a speaker into your ear. The earpiece itches and keeps falling out of my ear, you can’t make much noise inside the basilica, so the tube has to do. I don’t know if tourist exhaustion has reached me or not, but I don’t care much about most of the paintings lining the basilica walls. At one point Tom and I talk about his running, and he tells me Priest told him not to run in certain areas of Assisi lest wild boars attack him. I find this much more interesting than most of the paintings. LN gives us a blow by blow report of every single piece of art in the huge basilica, and for the first time on the trip I want the historical visit part of the day to end early. I only find two paintings interesting. The first portrays Francis as very ugly, with big ears, and is supposed to be the most realistic picture of his physical form. The second is of a guy leaping or falling from a tower. I can’t figure out if he’s leaping or flying, but I don’t get a chance to ask because of the crowds and tour speed. Oh, LD also mentions an earthquake killing some people in the very spot we’re standing, so between the wild boars, falling plaster exhaustion, and fear my palms are sweating and I want to go home.

After the visit I skip the gift shop (too crowded) and walk uphill back to the Casa. I take a precautionary Alleve and listen to New Order’s “Power, Corruption, and Lies” in my room. After a while I figure out how to check out my camera’s pictures and listen to Tom Waits’ “Never Let Go.” I miss my kids so much it hurts. M had the boys store a picture for me on the camera. Here it is:

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The afternoon is young, and I’m feeling better after a short rest, so I walk across town to the glass painting place and buy a couple of posters for ten Euros each. I run into Bob on the street and walk back with him to the glass painting place to show him where the cheaper posters are stored (in drawers near the back of the shop). We walk a little more, talking about Italian women in tight jeans, until we hit the piazza and split again. I cut down a street leading to a toy shop and buy three Italian puppets and one domino set for the kids. The guy at the cash register is sleeping. He wakes in time to ring me up.

River is packing when I return to the room. We discuss the advantages and disadvantages of different packing techniques then go for a walk, cruising different shops while searching for cigars. The manly search for cigars feels good, but we can’t find any quality smokes in the shops near the Casa. I pick up a diet coke and drink it while walking. We find cheap cigars down by St. Clare’s Basilica, but they’re nothing special, and we continue through nearby shops looking for fireworks. Ivan joins us and expresses a concern about packing, e.g. what the airlines allow you take on your carryon luggage, if he has enough room for presents, etc. We enter a pottery shop where the Italian clerk shows us pornographic pottery. I’m serious. He brings out three vases depicting people in various sexual positions. We nearly pee our pants laughing at the true communal spirit of pornography. The Italian man points at the vase and says “artistry!” but we choose not to buy due to the pressing issue of how to explain the vases to custom officials. We also see slingshots, which I consider for the boys, but I decide against weaponry as presents. I ditch the group, go through a few more shops, paying special attention to Assisi snowglobes.

Before dinner we’re called to a mandatory healing ceremony in the small Casa chapel. One of the pilgrims is facing post-pilgrimage surgery and asked for the Catholic healing sacrament. Six others decide they want to take part, and all seven wait in chairs in the center of the chapel while we sit on the benches lining the walls. The priest invites everyone to form a hug-line for each of the seven, but I pass, earning a couple of mean looks from Gladys. Priest also says he’s going to bless the objects we’ve purchased but I pass again. The U group meets briefly after the ceremony to discuss what to buy the people who sent us on the pilgrimage. I really don’t care much. The U group also decides to go out to dinner, but I’ve been too social today, so I beg off and walk the streets. The group looks confused, but I’ve confused people all my life with my desire to go off on my own. I guess I’ve managed to alienate my friends on a couple continents. I’m in the mood for pizza. I walk the streets, starting low, near St. Francis Basilica, and work myself back towards the piazza. I settle for the last small pizza at a shop near the piazza and eat in an empty patio by the fountain. I’m not sure I want to be alone, and I’m feeling somewhat restless, away from my family for so long, but I don’t want to be with anyone from the pilgrimage. I’m also pissed because the shops are closed, and we’re leaving in the morning before they open again in the morning, so I won’t be able to get an Assisi snowglobe. Oh well. I stop at the IC, get a beer, and discover the U email system is down. I can’t see my kids’ e-mails. Shit. I send a message home from my yahoo address and finish my beer. The piazza is more or less empty, so I stand on the stairs across from Minerva and film about fifteen seconds of footage. Later I will find out the night footage didn’t turn out.

When I return to the Casa I try to visit the rooftop garden, but the door is locked, so I settle for the second floor patio. I can hear the NY guys below me, but I stay quiet and listen to music. Over an hour I listen to Stars on the Lid, Tom Waits, and Eels. Someone sets fireworks off nearby. I just want to go home. My heart beats hard in my chest. I return to my room, read some Kevin Smith, and fall asleep. I dream about a gathering of forty teachers on a hill. My notes reference swimming and silver bracelets, but I don’t remember the dream well.