We made it to Rome!

At the Vatican with our Testimonia
-- issued to pilgrims who have
completed the Via Francigena.

We made it to Rome.  This pilgrimage is done.  

Here are a few final thoughts -- in our final blog post until the next adventure:

We walked in gratitude – recognizing all over again the blessings in our lives.  Our wonderful family, the lovely town we live in, our friends…our faith.  Our health.  Every mile to Rome made this clearer.  

Our final stamp at the Vatican

We let go of expectations.  The Via Francigena is magical in its own way...we soon stopped comparing it to the Camino de Santiago in Spain.  We learned to appreciate the moment and the experience -- right now.  

God equals boundless love – God shows himself to each of us in his own way.  

For me, it’s been through the Catholic Church – the spirituality and the sacraments deepen my relationship with God.  But that’s my path.  Others feel boundless love in different ways.  Worship in different ways.  Even see God differently.  It’s all part of the great mystery.  John and I are blessed to share a deep faith – even though we worship differently. 

Children are amazing -- Everywhere we went we were drawn to the children…playing…laughing…somehow speaking Italian!  It’s like we’ve been given a new connection with the future.  We see our grandchildren in every child. 

Meg inspired us – John’s oldest daughter Meg (my daughter through sheer love) has a unique ability to embrace every moment – she is boundless positive energy.  

She jumped right in to living in Luxembourg with four kids...where they don’t really speak English.   She laughs and is flexible when facing a challenge.  

We tried to bring some of that Megan spirit on this trip.  When we didn’t understand what was happening – we thought of Meg.  When we were uncomfortable because of language barriers – we thought of Meg.  Meg’s light kept us open to the adventure. 

We love English Springer Spaniels 
like this little girl.  Who will she be?  
Dixie? Miss Chicory? 
Sister LuLu? Who knows?

We’re ready to get a dog – that might like a random thought, but its part of settling in to our new life.  Realizing that we have room for that kind of commitment – welcoming a completely different kind of adventure.  

We have more adventures in us – there will be a time when we choose a different style of travel…but for now, we’re blessed with energy, health and most of all curiosity.  We’re ready to learn more about the world.  

We really like each other – we laughed a lot…at ourselves…at our crazy situations.  In the midst of stress (exhausted after walking 18 miles, hungry, lost…) we were never cross with each other.  We were in it together.  We had fun. 

Agriturismo - Italian Farm Life

Agritourismo

An Agriturismo sounds romantic – and in many ways it is.  Staying at a small working farm in rural Italy, surrounded by olive trees, hazelnut trees, and vineyards.  

All this bounty -- the honey, the figs, 

the cheese and fruit are grown 

at the agritourismo...

Meals created by Mama – using honey from their hives, cheese from their sheep's milk, tomatoes and figs they’ve grown, pork from their pigs fed on a hazelnut diet – probably even wine they produce themselves.  It sounds ideal, doesn’t it? 

And it is….but… 

We’re far from everything.  Since we walked here, we’re stranded until we walk again the next day.
We were usually the only guests.  A single table set up in a huge dining room.  No menus – just what came out of the kitchen, which kept us mildly confused.

This came after a huge 

portion of lasagna...

One morning we waited half an hour at the breakfast table waiting for eggs and fruit, not understanding that two pieces of bread was breakfast. 

At another agriturismo, we enjoyed our dinner, a hearty portion of divine lasagna prepared by Mama. We had already gotten up from the table – satiated  and content – when Mama waved us back, pointing to a huge platter of pork chops and potatoes she had just laid out.  We sat back down and did our best to show our appreciation by splitting a farm-raised chop.

Maria is an architect who

also helped her parents

on the agritourismo

The next time, we enjoyed a lovely pasta, homemade 

We created a "laundry drying" 

farm of our own....

antipasto…not eating too much – anticipating the pork chop to come.  But it didn’t….

At a third agriturismo, we spent a rest day to recover and refuel from long days of walking, only to find that the proprietors had left the property that morning without leaving us anything to eat until they returned that evening.  

We picked grapes from the vines to snack on...

To get to another agriturismo, we had to navigate the final 1/2 mile using sketchy 

John studied Bridge when we had

 a day on our own at the agritourismo

directions that provided a "short cut" for walkers. It led us over a tiny foot bridge, into deep woods on an overgrown trail with no markings, and up steep hills that required us to crawl on our hands and knees.  

We arrived at the agriturismo covered in burrs and looked at each other in astonishment – what the heck, Via Francigena?

But as you can see from these photos, agriturismos really are lovely places to stay…and all part of our Italy adventure.  

Images of Italy

Here are some of our favorite images of Italy...it is so lovely!  

Classic in Pisa

The Via is well marked...sometimes...

St. Michael in Lucca

Out our hotel window in Siena

John contemplates yet another hill we'll be climbing

We love you, too, Italy...

No rain!  But we were ready for it...

 

We stay in lovely, snall hotels
 in tiny Italian towns

This represents one of the
neighborhoods in Siena that  
participate in the Palio di Siena....
a crazy horse race around 
the city center.  

We haven't met other pilgrims -- but Marta at 
our hotel in Siena became our first Italian 
daughter...

We stayed in Viterbo -- and just missed the festival of Santa Rosa -- in memory of the Saint (a devout 18 year old girl who lived in the 1200s, 100 men carry a tower 100 feet high and lighted through the narrow streets...

Our Pilgrim Passport

Part of the adventure of the Via Francigena (as well as the Camino de Santiago) is getting stamps in your pilgrim passport.  It’s your proof that you walked…and it’s also a wonderful way to interact with people.

One of the differences between Italy and Spain is the number of stamps we’ve gotten in churches and cathedrals – most of the time after attending Mass there. 

Partial photo of John's Passport

The priest will take us back into the sacristy (private area where priests get ready for Mass), rummage around in a drawer and happily give us a stamp…usually with a smile saying “Pelligrini!”.   We'll give him one of our Pope Francis “Year of Mercy” pins. 

We’ve had holy moments, too.  

One priest thought I was giving him the pin to bless, instead of as a gift.  

At the Santa Rosa Monastery, we tried to give a nun a pin after she stamped us. 

We give this pin -- featruing Pope
Francis and the Year of Mercy
-- to people we meet. We have 100 of
them....but sadly, have met few
pilgrims to give them to.  Intstead, we
give them at the churches we attend
and to the hotel folks we meet. 

She waved us off, indicating “Give it to the others…”.  When she saw we had pins for everyone, she smiled and accepted it.  

At one church, the man (not the priest) looked at us – pointed to the stamp from our fancy hotel -- and indicated that’s not how pilgrims travel!  

And most of the time, we don’t.  We stay in small hotels or agritourismo (farms that take in guests). 

This stamps celebrates being 

100 km from Rome...

But every so often, we are in a nice hotel.  Where we can get laundry done.  Be close to the hub of village activity.  Have a bathtub.  Relax for an extra day.  Work with a front desk person who speaks English. 

When we’re done, we’ll post a list of our favorite hotels here – most of them are deep into rural Italy.  We’ve had a chance to experience this beautiful country in a unique way.  

Here are some examples of the lovely stamps we've gotten in Churches:

Idiots abroad

We had planned to learn some travelers’ Italian before arriving in Italy. Our friend graciously loaned us her Rosetta Stone DVDs, we had Italian language learning apps on our phone. We had the tools, but our fun life in Bay St Louis took priority. 

So we’re experiencing Italy as idiots abroad.  We’re the lone English speakers in small Tuscan villages.  

One of our favorite shows...sigh...

But we finally learned how to ask for “Two glasses of red wine, please.”

People speak to us very slowly….as if that will help.  And usually, we’re so embarrassed, we simply nod without understanding.  

We've had some interesting Italian 

meals...usually taking a wild 

guess at what we've ordered...

We stare at road signs and notices hoping we can decipher useful information. 

We use gestures. We smile a lot. We bob our head up and down as some helpful person barrages us with directions in Italian. And we stumble through it together in good humor.

Last night we sat patiently in a restaurant … waiting, waiting … until staff found someone with enough English to explain that they don't serve food at these tables.

We bundle our clothes and find a
place to wash them. We stay at such
small hotels, there isn't laundry service...  

The laundromat was so confusing -- we couldn't tell where to add detergent -- and were fairly certain all the water would come pouring out...

Italian Lavanderia

When we needed help with A/C in our room, we inadvertantly asked another guest instead of the manager – and he actually helped! 

Three days from Rome and we’re in tiny villages where no one speaks English. 

We learn more about humility every day. 

Thank goodness for the graciousness of the Italians!  

I saw my father...

Losing a wonderful dad is bittersweet.  You feel blessed he was in your life – but you miss him terribly when he is gone.

My Dad with his grandkids

My dad had a great sense of humor…a wonderful zest for life…he fixed my messes and taught me about character.  He lived until he was 88 years old – which gave me even more time to learn how terrific he was. 

John and I were walking past a field and a small Springer Spaniel popped out of the brush.  We heard a whistle and saw her bound over to an old man in the distance who was training her. 

As I looked, I realized I was getting a glimpse of my dad in heaven.  He loved his dogs…he loved to hunt with them.  Mary Clare, his last Springer, made him laugh every day. 

As we walked on, the Springer ran up to us a final time...I looked back and the old man waved at me. 

And there is the gift walking the Via Francigena has given me-- a wave from my father.  

.  

Mary Clare made my dad laugh every day...

Pilgrim in a skirt

When I told my boss at Caterpillar that John and I were making a pilgrimage, he smiled and said, “So are you getting some zip-off hiking pants? With lots of pockets?"  

Horrors.  

Classic pilgrim attire...I'm close!  

He knew me well enough to realize how that thought would make me panic. 

I don’t wear pants.

I like the way my 7 year old grandson Charlie puts it, "Ning, have you always been fancy?"

But for this pilgrimage, I found the perfect walking outfits– even if I do look a little strange. 

John says he’s sure people are thinking, “What’s that guy doing walking with a nun…?”