Pope to Puglia Paula’s Weekly Summary: The Wildebeest and Zebra are Back

The wildebeest and zebra are back!  The wildebeest offering guidance and security, the zebra expanding an incredible collection of ceramic pieces, porcupine quills, dead bugs (if travel sturdy) and rusty artifacts.  Spoiler alert: all suitable for gifting.

This first week has been a baptism by fire.  It started on a lavish note: the bathtub in our first hotel on Piazza Navona, a red-lacquered monument in the center of our Aphrodite sweet, would have been suitable to baptize a small congregation, and the complementary towels would have made Christo proud. Perhaps I was cavalier about the six-week journey at the start, but reality sunk in quickly following a series of 26+ km phases, walking more 8.5 hours each day, ended in our small rooms with us moving mechanically around like robots in a robot repair shop, bumping into the walls and each other.

But we are strong.  In contrast with our foot centric commentary last year, that often bordered on qualifying for an “only fans site”, I have decided that further discussion of my feet will be limited.  Some things are just better imagined than seen.  However, I can report on 2 podiatric improvements: 1) I start with 10 new toenails; and 2) a shoehorn is more efficient than a mildly arthritic index finger when putting on a boot.

The Francigena occasionally throws obstacles in the path of a well-intentioned pilgrim. 

For example, on the first day, a large metal fence and orange netting blocked our path. Of course we were unwilling to accept a detour.  We instead deployed a two-phase tactic.  First, find a sag in the fence; second, climb over it.  The wildebeest cleared the fence like a gazelle and then offered to help. 

Edward: “Ok Paula just lift your leg and I will grab your foot and pull it over.”

Paula: “Hold on a minute my pants are entangled with the barb wire.”

Note that this maneuver required a perfect arabesque to land safely on the steep incline on the other side of the fence.   Rest assured that all was executed with the elegance and grace of a Dolce&Gabbana fashion show.

A couple of days later we had to breach construction site fencing, adorned with arts and crafts “Do Not Enter” signs (in Italian of course,) by unhinging part of the fence.  Surely placing a construction site in the middle of the Via Francigena was an oversite which we felt no need to observe.  

At one point we were obliged to hitchhike to compensate for a slight navigational miscalculation that took us 7 km off our path.  I did go a little Diana Nyad on this one.  Imagine 2 senior citizens standing on the side of the road hitchhiking, looking like semester abroad escapees from an REI sponsored camp. 

This week was not just about vandalism.  We are listening to “The Day of Battle”, Rick Atkinson’s account of the Italian Allied campaign during WW2.  My suggestion of the Barbara Streisand biography was tabled, temporarily.  We walked through many towns that only 80 years ago were scorched by war.  Some of the historic treasures were spared by agreements between the combatants.  One such agreement protected the papal summer residence at Castel Gandolfo, the site of our second night.

In Sermoneta we visited the church of Santa Maria Assunta where I noticed a small offering box with the following suggestion: “Offerta Per Anime in Purgatorio” which translates to “Donations for the Souls in Purgatory.” I have never seen such a collection box. I had several thoughts: “Gee, what could a soul possibly need” and “How are these donations delivered” and “They must have a crazy high administrative cost.”  I really think a better business model would be personal sponsorship by which you sponsor a soul in purgatory like the ASPCA or UNICEF children. But how do you know who is in purgatory?  It’s like delivering an Amazon package without an address.

In Itri we spent the night at a “Glamping” camp, a recent (?) development in camping couture.  The camp consisted of 4 geodesic domes made in Japan complete with air conditioning, showers, toilets, bidets, television, and chenille bedcovers dotted with plastic-colored hearts. Our pod was in the middle of an olive grove.

For the next two days we walk around the Gulf of Gaeta.  We arrived at our first destination, Formia, in time for a languid lunch by the sea, the first lunch of the week.  The waiter brought a bottle of wine to the table and pulled the corkscrew from his apron.  Holding the bottle confidently he turned it to cut the foil from its neck, his wedding ring marking each rotation when contacting the glass. Tap, tap, tap. Like a call to prayer. 

A new feature of this weekly summary will highlight individuals who “made our week.” We want to recognize Corrado and Lidia who provided luggage transfers for 4 days. Aside from warm generosity and care, they gave us the carved wooden figure of a Francigena Pilgrim.  Corrado, it turns out, is an excellent carpenter.  We want to recognize Vincenzo who appeared out of the mist as evening fell while we were hitchhiking with the genial “Where do you want to go.”

Finally, we want to recognize the unknown lady who stopped to give us a handful of fava beans pods which we ate while strolling along. Small gestures can have large impacts.   

A presto