Today I am leaving to Return to the Camino,

To go on something I’m calling

Humility Walk

Why?

Because bombs are falling in Syria again.

Because people of color are being disproportionately killed in the US.

Because poor people are sitting in prison even though they are innocent, just because they can’t afford bail.

Because refugees are camped out at our border, unable to go back home or be granted asylum.

Because people who are working hard to send money back home to their families and doing jobs I am unwilling to do, are living in fear of being rounded up and sent away from the lives they have worked so hard to build.

Regardless of where you stand on any of these issues,

I feel sure that you would agree with Kandace and I when we say that

so many things are NOT AS THEY SHOULD BE in our world.

It’s overwhelming.

It’s depressing.

And so many nights we just feel sad.

We wonder what we could possibly do to make it better,

And then we turn off the news and watch Netflix. (which is also ok BTW…no judgment)

But not today.

Even though we feel somewhat helpless in the face of so much injustice in the world,

We are (attempting) to humble ourselves to do something that at this moment in time,

we feel is the best we know how to do.

Today, we are dropping our small teaspoon of hope into a bucket of despair.

(Side note: We believe God does amazing things with small gifts!)

Here is our humble offering:

Humility Walk

We are going to walk 122 kilometers for justice.

We’re going to walk a portion of the Camino. (If you have been following me for a while, you know that I have walked part of it before and have wanted to go back ever since.)

We have a section picked out that should be doable even with winter approaching and that my slightly out-of-shape body can hopefully handle. (We will see!)

It’s going to be an adventure.

It’s going to be funny.

And it’s going to be humbling.

But even though it will be hard, I know from past experience that it will be rest for our souls.

And we want to invite you to come along with us.

Really.

Here’s how…

We will be walking for seven days from Logrono to Burgos,

122 kilometers of the Spanish road to Santiago,

also called the Camino. (As in the movie THE WAY…go watch it)

Each day we will be walking for a different organization that we love.

We have carefully chosen organizations that we believe are working for a more beautiful, more just world. They are serving meals to refugees. They are freeing prisoners. They are standing with those who are seeking asylum. They are waiting for women who are getting off buses from prison with nowhere to go. They are creating jobs for people who just want to support their families. They are being the hands and feet of Jesus in our world.

And as we walk, we want to shine a light on them (and also help them financially).

So here they are:

Preemptive Love
Equal Justice Initiative
American Friends Service Committee (the Quakers)
The Happy Givers
Families Belong Together
The Poor Peoples’ Campaign
A New Way of Life

Go read about what these folks are doing. Follow them on their social media profiles. Subscribe to their newsletters. And then…

Consider giving any amount to one of these organizations in honor of our Humility Walk. Give $122 for 122 kilometers. Give $76 for 76 miles. Or give $10 to each. Or give whatever you can. And if you don’t like these organizations, find one that you like that is working for a more just, more beautiful world and give to them.

After you give (THANK YOU!), email me (alison@alisonchino.com) your giving receipt so that I know YOU ARE IN for joining our Humility Walk!

Of course we could just throw a donate sticker up somewhere and ask you to donate and then head out on our walk, but we thought it would be way more fun to have you actually come with us. So once you send us your giving receipt, we will invite you to join our private Humility Walk Facebook Group where we will be updating you from the road. We will also include a link to a private Instagram account if that’s more your thing.

We promise to post pictures of the Camino, silly videos of us when we are really tired, and maybe even a blistered foot (gross!).

Who knows what we’ll do? But we promise to show up and let you know how things are going on our walk! And to say thank you so much for your commitment to join us!

And BONUS! If you are hoping to walk the Camino one day, we will happily answer any questions you have about the portion of the Camino we are walking! So you can plan your own trip to one of the most special long distance walks in the world. We would love to welcome you as a fellow pilgrim on the Camino!

If you don’t feel like joining right now, you don’t like FB groups (or FB at all) and you don’t want to donate, that’s ok, you can still follow Kandace on Instagram to get fun glimpses of our Humility Walk.

Either way, I hope you feel a tiny glimmer of hope knowing that we are out here walking and praying for a more beautiful, more just world!

BIG LOVE AND GRACE TO YOU,

Alison (+ Kandace)

PPS. FYI: The name Humility Walk is inspired by both our desire to make a humble offering of our days of walking towards the hope of a better world and a favorite verse:

He has shown you, O man, what is good.

    And what the Lord requires of you?

But to do justice and to love mercy

    and to walk humbly with your God.
Micah 6:8

The post Return to The Camino: Humility Walk appeared first on Alison Chino.

So another Chino fall break highlight was heading to Michigan for our first time ever.

(Check another state off of your list Simon!)

We drove over on Saturday morning and after a quick picnic lunch (from Blackberry Market, of course), we went exploring.

We hiked several trails where the forest floor turned to sand before reaching the shoreline of Lake Michigan

You know how I love a good trail.

Anna managed to find three or four great hikes during our time near Holland.

The forest provided a little shelter from the crazy winds.

But then the trees would open up onto these dunes and the wind about knocked us over.

It’s easy to forget that Lake Michigan is a lake. It feels like being at the seaside!

A cold seaside!

We stayed near this beautiful lighthouse (lovingly referred to as Big Red), which we walked to several times while we were there.

This photo reminds me how much of the weekend I spent wishing Simon would wear more clothes. Good grief.

It was so cold in the wind. You had to sort of lean in against it and brace yourself as you walked.

But even thought it was super chilly, it was so beautiful!

Later, we got to explore the town of Holland and Hope College, where my niece, Grace, goes to school.

The campus was gorgeous, with tons of cozy nooks for studying or chatting with a friend. We enjoyed seeing where Grace spends her days.

Then, on Sunday we went apple picking at Crane’s Orchards!

I brought home 40 pounds of apples.

After picking apples, we wandered over to the restaurant where they serve all kinds of apple treats and hot apple cider.

On Monday, after the college kids all went back to school (including Taido), Anna and I took the boys on another hike near Ottawa beach where we climbed a bunch of stairs to lookout over Lake Michigan.

It’s teeny tiny, but you can see the little red lighthouse from the other direction on this hike.

We warmed up after our walk with a trip to an Irish pub in Holland.

Simon was delighted to find shepherd’s pie on the menu,

but he informed me that it wasn’t REAL shepherd’s pie because it was made with beef instead of lamb, in which case it should have been called “cottage pie.”

(Thank you to our friend Claire for teaching Simon the difference when he was a wee lad!)

After lunch we did one more climb up a BUNCH of stairs.

This time it was to the top of a place called Mount Baldhead.

We went up one side of the hill on stairs and then ran down the other which was all sand.

And back out to the Lake!

Then we got lost on some sand dunes for a while before making our way back.

Up the hill we went again!

Our last night in Michigan, Anna and I walked down to watch the sunset on the beach.

It had been a warmer afternoon, so we stayed outside as long as we could.

We got up the next morning and walked to the lighthouse again before heading home.

It felt so good to walk so much with my sis…such a treat!

And of course, I loved bringing home bushels of apples as my Michigan fall break souvenirs.

The post Snapshots of Michigan: Apple Picking + Sand Dunes appeared first on Alison Chino.

We went camping at Starved Rock State Park a couple weeks ago for Simon’s fall break and I remembered that one of my favorite rooms with a view is this tent.

It’s true. Seeing the trees RIGHT THERE when my eyes open is one of the surest ways I know to wake up happy.

Also I love the boys being outside on their bikes and running around.

Of course camping with middle schoolers also looks like phones around the campfire.

We spent most of Saturday hiking around the state park. The trails at Starved Rock have tons of wooden walkways built above the ground to protect the ecosystem.

So fancy. You don’t even really get muddy.

The trails have lots of lookouts over canyons and gorges.

Everything was still so green and lush. Leaves were just beginning to change here and there.

But mostly it was all green and blue.

Starved Rock is right on the Illinois River.

Some of the trails run right along the riverside.

There’s a beautiful old lodge at Starved Rock that reminded me of some of the older national park lodges we’ve visited.

They were all decked out for fall, and lots of folks were eating inside and outside the restaurant at the lodge.

We did a second hike after lunch before the rain set in to a different canyon.

The sky was starting to grow pretty ominous. Rain was rolling in Saturday afternoon and we were trying to beat it with one more hike.

We found the waterfall we were looking for and after the boys played behind it for a little bit, we took off to get back to the car before the storm.

The waterfall reminded me of a hike in Arkansas that we love so much at Petit Jean State Park.

Once the rain hit, we went to town for snacks.

We roamed a few shops, stopped in a taproom that had a stack of board games, and waited for the rain to subside.

Then we bought a stack of dry firewood and went back to camp.

Marshmallows and campfire selfies.

Taido and the boys turned in pretty early and I stayed out by the fire for a long time. I can watch the flames for hours, listening to the wood pop and the wind rustle the trees.

On Sunday morning, the sun came out and quickly dried everything out. We packed up and hit one more trail after breakfast.

It was such a lovely weekend and felt so good to flex that camping muscle again after a long hiatus.

I remembered how much I love being outside in my camp chair.

I read a book, I sketched our tent.

I listened to the kids laugh (while reciting their favorite scenes from Parks and Rec over and over again).

When I got home, I filled in my sketch with watercolors.

A happy memory in my journal of some good days outdoors.

Cheers to more of those super soon!

The post Snapshots of Starved Rock: Camping in Illinois appeared first on Alison Chino.

It’s been about two months since we moved to Rock Island, Illinois, which is one of the Quad Cities.

(The other three are Moline, Davenport and Bettendorf. The jury is still out on whether or not we picked the right one.)

Taido took a job at beautiful Augustana College. He is teaching theology in the building pictured above, which is Augustana’s Old Main. (so fancy!)

We enter the campus by walking over this lovely little bridge and through the woods.

The college is the nicest place I’ve found to go for walks, so I keep going back there.

There’s even a little path along a slough, which I don’t think is such a nice word, but it’s beautiful even if it is a “swampy area.”

Sometimes Simon walks with me around the campus after school,

and sometimes I walk by myself.

My parents have already been up for a visit! And my sister has been over as well, so we’ve gotten to show off the college a bit.

In 2013 we moved to Scotland as a family of six.

Then in 2016 we moved to Germany as a family of four.

And now we are three.

It’s been a challenging set of changes for me for sure, doing another move and sending Ben off to school all at once.

But we’re only a few hours away from Ben and Mary Polly (as well as my sister and her family), so that helps.

And I’m slowly trying to explore my new surroundings. Bit by bit.

We’ve gotten out on the Mississippi River bike trail a few times. The river is the border between Illinois and Iowa in the Quad Cities, so I find that I’m crossing back and forth often between the two states.

When I’m not out with the Taido and Simon, I’m exploring on my own.

I made use of this bench for a long afternoon one day to write.

I’ve gotten a library card and am already a regular visitor, of course.

I’ve been to the local farmers’ market and to health food stores.

I visited a farm that was in full fall festivities.

I went to pick raspberries, but they were very buggy.

However, I persevered and managed to bring home a couple of pints of berries without bugs on them.

Plus I bought a few other treasures at the farm store, including fresh apple cider and cider doughnuts.

And miraculously I did not break down and cry when I saw all the wagons full of preschoolers visiting the petting zoo and picking out pumpkins. (I find I am breaking into tears at the littlest things these days.)

But mostly I have been puttering around the house we have rented.

I’m working a bit. (I edited a big project last month, as well as a few smaller ones.)

I’m having a go at keeping house plants, which is new for me.

I’ve framed some prints of the Lake District that I’ve carried around for four or five years.

They remind me of some of my favorite walks.

In fact, I’ve started to make some walking plans for next year and I think having these prints hanging up might be the inspiration.

I’m making my own sprouts.

I’ve expanded my kombucha brewing.

And of course, I’m still baking sourdough bread.

Every. Day.

I’ve starting doing one small sketch every day.

I’m using this curriculum I’ve had from my Mama Polly since the kids were young.

She wrote it for fourth graders, so that’s about right for me.

I love seeing her handwriting and reading her instructions.

The lessons were written to accompany her television program from long, long ago.

I’m also learning Spanish on DuoLingo. I’ve become obsessed with staying at the top of my leader board. Join me?

A few other things I’m reading/watching that I’m enjoying/finding interesting:

When They See Us: This is the Netflix series about the five men who were wrongly accused as The Central Park Five, who are now known as The Exonerated Five. It’s brilliantly done. Excruciating and so important. I love everything Ava DuVernay directs because she is always telling more than the story that is right in front of you. In When They See Us, she’s telling a story about every young man who’s ever been wrongly accused. And she’s telling a story about how hard it is for family members to hold up those they love who are in prison. She’s telling a story about what it’s like to try to find a job after you’ve been released from prison. She is telling the story of these five young men, but ultimately, she is telling a story about America.

The 1619 Project: 400 years ago the first African slaves arrived in America. Nikole Hannah-Jones spearheaded a project to release a collection of essays that are an opportunity to pause and consider how the decision to allow and depend on slavery in America has shaped our nation. There is also a podcast version of the project. Particularly compelling is the episode on how our American economy has been and continues to be shaped by the legacy of slavery.

Jemar Tisby’s account of the opening of The Elaine Massacre Memorial:

100 years ago this week, there was a racially motivated massacre of over 200 black men, women and children in the small town of Elaine, Arkansas. I went to Elaine a couple of years ago to see if there was any evidence of the violent events that took place there in 1919 and only found a small plaque. I’m hopeful that the new memorial will be a help for all Arkansans in reckoning with the insidious racism that so often remains buried.

I found both The Sun is Also A Star and This Beautiful Fantastic to be absolutely delightful to watch. I’ve also been writing to the soundtracks of both films.

And a few books I’ve loved lately include:

Leaving Church by Barbara Brown Taylor

Kindred by Octavia Butler (I can’t believe I’ve never read anything by her!)

My Midsummer Morning: Rediscovering a Life of Adventure by Alistair Humphreys

That’s about it for me. We’re headed for the woods this weekend to kick off Simon’s fall break. I’m happy about some time around a campfire.

The post Update from the Quad Cities: Rock Island Days appeared first on Alison Chino.

A Letter to Immigrants

Dear friends who are far from home,

My friends for whom English is not your “heart” language,

I am so thankful for the many ways you have taught me to think differently about life, and I am writing this letter to share a few of the places where you have widened my heart.

Thank you for being willing to keep learning new ways to say things. New languages. New idioms. Thank you for not allowing language to be a barrier in communicating. You find a way to say what you want to say, even if it’s with your hands, and I love you for it.

Thank you for immediately replying when I text you or invite you somewhere. You are not playing it cool, acting like you have better things to do or weighing your options. If you can come, you say so and if you can’t, you say that. Thank you for reminding me that I spend way too much energy trying to do the “cool” or “appropriate” thing when I should just go with my heart.

Thank you for sharing your table with me. Without you, I wouldn’t have tasted many foods that are now my favorites. Thank you for writing down recipes for me, for entrusting me with your grandmother’s cake, with your mother’s pudding.

Thank you for sharing your secrets with me, for telling me where to go to find the biggest jar of tahini I’ve ever seen, the cheapest coriander, freshly made tortillas, an insider fish market, and sushi rice in bulk.

Thank you for being willing to be a lifelong learner. You are willing to learn things that I learned as a child because I had access to infrastructures and programs that you did not. In this way you are teaching me that it is ok to be like a child in adulthood.

Thank you for showing me the dances you learned as a child in your country, for teaching me to move my hips and my feet in a new way. Thank you playing your music for me and translating the love story of the song.

Thank you for opening up your home country to me, for showing me a part of the globe I would not have seen without you.

Thank you for giving me the world.

To the group of international moms I gathered with in Aberdeen, to my language partner in Germany, to the immigrant families of our kids’ school friends in Scotland, to the international church congregations with whom I have worshiped, to my sweet friend in Seattle who first taught me to make sushi,  to the students who sat alongside us in German language classes and shared meals with us afterwards, to the many folks in the world who are working to carve out a life in a new country.

I am amazed at all the lessons I have learned from you.

You are unwriting the rules I have unconsciously lived by for many years.

You make my life richer and more beautiful.

When you arrive in a new place to work, to dream, to make a life,

you truly make it great.

We need you in my country.

I am praying that there are kinder, gentler days ahead of us in America, days in which we will be welcoming immigrants instead of imprisoning and criminalizing them.

I pray that we might show even a fraction of the hospitality and grace that you have shown to me.

With love and gratitude,

Alison

I am posting this letter today as my small act of protest, a little whisper in the wilderness saying that I want to live in a world where immigrants and refugees are welcome. It is also my attempt to be in solidarity with my brothers and sisters who are in El Paso today to demand an end to placing children in detention camps.

The post A Letter to Immigrants To Thank You For Teaching Me The Best Things appeared first on Alison Chino.

What can I say about Assisi?

I hardly know where to begin.

Maybe it’s best to start with the ending.

As I left the convent in Assisi, the same nun who welcomed me in, took hold of my face and kissed me twice, blessing me on my way.

With tears in my eyes, I opened the door from the monastery into the tiny courtyard where my car was parked. The nun opened the gate for me and waited while I slowly negotiated pulling my car through the gate, out onto the street facing the Basilica of St Francis and up the road through town that led to the nearest arched exit way.

I drove slowly, but confidently, nothing like I had driven into the city two days ago, afraid and unsure. Or sure that I was going to hit a wall or another car, or even worse, a person.

I had laughed on the phone to my son the night I arrived, that if any of the kids had been in the car with me, they would have been yelling at me and saying there was no way I was supposed to be driving on these roads.

I had arrived at noon on a Sunday, probably not the best time to drive through tiny streets filled with pilgrims to Assisi. But faithfully following my map, I drove higher and higher, until I was right in front of the most famous church in Assisi and heard the words “You have arrived at your destination.”

I had no idea where I was supposed to go. I was in the middle of a road filled with people and no place to park, when a small gate to my left opened up so that a car could exit the courtyard. Had a car not pulled out, I’m not sure I would have known to pull in, or how to get the gate open or even that the gate was for me to enter.

This small miracle of the gate opening just as I arrived is what my entire visit to Assisi was like.

The same sister that kissed me when I left watched me park my car and welcomed me in. She spoke only one phrase in English (Everything is ok?), but somehow managed to communicate to me without words that I was welcome, that I must be tired from the journey, that I could find rest here.

Slowly and deliberately, she led me to my room on the top floor.

My window looked out over the roof and caught the far left edge of the Basilica. It was my favorite of all the rooms I stayed in on my trip (which is maybe why I have 92 pictures of it). I can’t describe why I loved it so much.

Maybe it was the replica of St Francis’ famous cross on the wall.

The simple wooden desk.

The old wardrobe that had extra pillows and blankets.

The sweetly made bed.

The way soft light came in the window at sunset.

Or the way the colors of the roof tiles seemed to change throughout the day.

I don’t know, but I could have stayed in my room the entire time I was in Assisi and been happy. I can’t think of a more perfect place for a silent retreat.

Except maybe for the place where St Francis himself enjoyed silence and solitude, the forests above the city of Assisi, in the shadow of Mt Subasio.

About an hour’s walk up the mountain from Assisi is a Hermitage (Eremo delle Carceri) where St Francis and his companions enjoyed communing with God.

A statue of him welcomes you to the silent, sacred woods.

You can descend into the caves where he prayed. You can step on the ground where he walked.

I walked these quiet woods for a couple of hours, noticing the remnants left by those who’d come before me: crosses made of sticks, stacks of rocks, prayer cards and rosaries.

I wondered how many folks have come and left their worries and woes among these stones and trees.

I only saw a few others there (maybe 5) and only on the main path through the Hermitage.

Many trails left the main path, up and down the mountain. They were all marked with funny signs, warning that you shouldn’t undertake to walk the steeper trails unless you are trained. I am certainly not “trained” but I dared to trek off the main trail to see the caves where saints hid away. I hid myself for a while from a passing rain shower and to lift my own prayers.

I stacked rocks that probably no one but God will ever see, piece by piece. One for each of my loved ones.

I had already visited the churches of St Francis and St Claire the day before, the hallowed, holy places where their remains are laid, but I think maybe there is something more of them in the woods, in the quiet Hermitage.

I had walked on the road to get up to Eremo delle Carceri, but I took the official Via Francesco through the woods back to Assisi.

I’ve been reading a biography of St Francis while traveling and I was carrying it with me, so I stopped on the trail down to read a few chapters and eat my picnic lunch.

All day the sun played hide and seek with me, so when it was out, I would find a spot to soak up its warmth and dry out my damp jeans.

After I found my way back into Assisi, I wandered around aimlessly taken photos.

So this seems like a good place to insert a LOT of pictures of Assisi:

After a while I went and found a quiet corner of the Basilica. The Basilica of St Francis is divided into the Upper and Lower Basilicas, and the walls of the upper one are covered in 28 fresco paintings of Francis’ life (all by the famous painter Giotto).

Every time I walked through the church, I would look for whatever scene I had just read about from the biography. This time I sat next to the fresco of St. Francis kneeling in front of the Crucifix of San Damiano, from which he heard the voice of Jesus speaking to him.

I’m reading Paul Sabatier’s biography, which was written in 1894, so there are modern notes from the editor throughout. (The biography has been so beloved that Paul Sabatier even has a street named after him in Assisi.)

It’s been such a lovely companion to my time in Italy and especially in Assisi. After I read about St. Francis giving away all his clothes in the market square, I walked through that very square and back into the church to see the painting of this scene.

When I read about St. Francis leaving Assisi through the Porta Nuova, I walked to that gate to see the blessing from him written on the walls.

After hearing about his journey to Rome to get his Rule approved, I went to see the painting of his meeting with the Pope.

I went twice to the Church of St. Claire to sit in front of the very Crucifix that played such an important role in St. Francis’ conversion.

And I saw the habit he wore, made out of rough brown wool, hanging next to the clothes of St Claire.

The stories were brought to life all over the town. When I first arrived in town I climbed to the north edge of town to see the old castle, Rocca Maggiore, where you can see the whole city of Assisi.

The town is not really that large, less than a mile long and even shorter in width, so I walked it several times during my stay, always making my way back to the sweet little room at the top of the convent of Angelina di Montegiove.

My next project will be to read something more of her. There was a note up in the convent that explained that she began this order of Franciscan sisters to be a more open group of women, so that they might be a refuge for mothers and sisters who found themselves without protection after the death of a husband or a father. Her idea of being less closed off to the world around her was somewhat radical in her time, and in fact, was rejected at first, but she succeeded in founding the order in 1403.

The sister I met certainly carried on her legacy. At breakfast, she walked around the room touching us all and wishing us well. Whenever I saw her, she would look directly into my eyes and softly say,

“Everything is ok?”

And somehow, even with all the things in the world that are decidedly not ok, I could smile back at her and nod, sincerely feeling that in those moments, yes, everything is ok.

I’ll leave you with the prayer of St. Francis that is posted in front of the Crucifix of San Damiano:

Most High, glorious God,

enlighten the darkness of my heart and give me

true faith,

certain hope,

and perfect charity,
sense and knowledge, Lord, that I may carry out

Your holy and true command.

The post Snapshots of Assisi, Italy appeared first on Alison Chino.

I WISH you could have heard me in the car when I got my first glimpses of Orvieto coming into view!

“OH MY LORD, you have got to be kidding me!”

I actually pulled the car over. (Because it’s just me and I can do that if I want.)

The whole day had been green and blue and beautiful, and I’d already been wowed by the (not dying) city in the clouds, so I was just blissfully heading to the next stop on my itinerary,

AND THEN WHAM!!!

Orvieto showed up with all the BELLA!

I drove up into the tiny city lanes, talking out loud to Google maps,

“Um I’m not sure this road is for cars.”

“Also it’s awwwwfulllly steep!”

But the directions were right and before long I found the next monestary on my list. It was housed in an old Palazzo right across from the famous Orvieto Duomo (so fortuitously convenient!) and I was meant to park inside a garden next to it.

But first I had to drive through a TINY gate…that one on the left that looks like a door for people not cars.

And of course there was a car behind me waiting to get by while I took my time lining up straight to get through the little bitty hole in the wall.

I was not sweating at all when I got out to check into my room. PHEW!

But bless! The director was so extra lovely and he gave me a room with three beds (Where are my friends???) with window views out the back over the garden and a corner view of the Duomo square.

What’s that you say? What is the Duomo?

HERE YOU GO!

Excessive photos of gargantuan church that is very old (1290).

Oh wait! That was just the outside!

Lucky for you, I didn’t take too many photos inside. (They never quite capture the grandeur anyway.)

I stayed in the church for a long time. Twice actually.

I sat with this Pietà for a while. (Ippolito Scalza sculpted it from marble in the 1300s.)

I’ve always loved these representations of this moment after Jesus’ death and I found this one particularly moving.

From the other side you can see Mary Magdalene’s cheek resting on Jesus’ hand. Her hand on his foot. Her devotion is so beautiful to me.

But maybe the most interesting story about this church is that it houses a cloth that a priest spilled the blood of Jesus on.

Apparently he was struggling to believe in transubstantiation when his Host started bleeding on the altar cloth.

The cloth is housed inside a special case inside a whole special chapel that is dedicated to this little piece of material.

There are a BUNCH of churches in Orvieto. A couple more I spent time in were San Bernardino (which was right next to where I was staying) and San Giovenale (11th century, oldest church in Orvieto).

I love the quiet of a church after walking around a city. I can sit for hours staring at fresco covered walls, meditating and praying.

I sit pleading for peace over all the ways the world feels excruciatingly violent. Bombs sent by computers to wreak havoc on already war torn countries and the sting of poverty and suffering in the lives of individuals.

I am struck by the fact that Jesus is able to contain it all. He is not overwhelmed. He does not despair.

Like many before me, I find comfort in being able to look at artists’ representations of His face. Sometimes the face of Jesus is in agony and I can see that he knows suffering. Sometimes his eyes are full of compassion, grace and peace. And I am newly comforted by Him.

They say that an artist who painted Jesus always left his eyes for last because they are the most important. For the people gazing at the representations of Jesus, the eyes can be our window, an opening by which we truly see something of Him.

I loved this mosaic in San Giovenale Church. I would think the eyes of Jesus would be even harder to capture with mosaics.

Anella della Rupe or A Walk Around The City of Orvieto

If you look closely at the bottom of the cliff on which Orvieto is built, you can see a path running around the city.

It’s called the Anella della rupe.

You reach it by taking one of the five exits out of the city, which are marked on these signposts on the trail.

It’s a long descent from the exits, sometimes by winding trail and in some cases, spiral staircases.

I did part of the loop on my first evening in Orvieto and then finished it the next morning, but it could be easily done all in one day.

I somehow managed to lose the trail for part of the way (not unusual at all) and ended up walking on the road and picking it back up later after the Necropolis Etruscan di Crocifisso del Tufo (ancient tombs).

They were excavated over the last 100 years or so, but the spring growth all around them made it feel like maybe they’re disappearing again.

There was a high school group there listening to their teachers lecture about the tombs with the ancient lettering. Most of the students seemed super bored. I was thinking how totally unaware they were of how superior their field trips are to that of American high school students. But then I realized that my kids would probably be bored too if I was dragging them around old tombs.

But that didn’t keep me from wishing they were there, even if they would have been griping at me when I lost the trail.

When I found the way back (after asking someone…haha), it wasn’t that hard to understand how I’d lost it.

Hello spring green covering up the steps back to the trail!!

I followed it the rest of the way around the town and entered Orvieto again in the medieval quarter, through its oldest gate.

This part of Orvieto seemed to always be quiet when I was walking through it.

So it kind of became my favorite.

Which is why ALL THE PHOTOS!

I also happened upon a precious ceramic artist in this quarter.

Her name is Anna and she sold me a jug I’m going to use for holding water for my sourdough bread when I get home.

Before leaving Orvieto, I took a few photos of the garden behind the monestary. The director told me I could leave my car parked there as long as I wanted after I checked out, in case I wanted to spend some more time in Orvieto.

When I was eating my breakfast that morning, he told me to be sure not to hurry.

“Take time. Take time.”

I did take my time in Orvieto.

It’s always a treat to stay somewhere that so many people day trip to, because it’s empty at the beginning and end of the day.

I remember feeling that way about Manarola as well.

But soon it was time to drive back out into the green hills of Umbria.

Next stop: Assisi.

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Snapshots of a A Walk to Civita di Bagnoregio, an ancient hilltown in Italy reachable only by a pedestrian bridge.

So 2500 years ago, some very ingenious folks (Etruscans) built this city on top of a hill. Hill towns are a common theme in my travels around Italy, but Civita is special because you can only get there by walking a long bridge that takes you to the entrance that was dug into the rock before Jesus was born, though now it’s called Porta San Maria.The town’s seven residents are hanging on by a cliff (literally). Civita di Bagnoregio has been called ‘the dying city’ in Italy because of its propensity to lose pieces of itself to landslides.But erosion aside, Civita is experiencing a bit of a boom (probably due to Instagram), so while she is still standing in the clouds, you should consider the climb up to see her.I popped over for an early morning visit (first car in the parking lot!) after dropping my friends at the train station in Viterbo.I was just beginning the solo portion of my travels, so I was somewhere between missing my friends and talking myself into being excited to hit the road for a new adventure. (Solo travel requires that I do a lot of self-talk.)I enjoyed scooting through vineyards and olive trees in my little rented Fiat.

I was on my way to Orvieto, yet other Italian hilltown (there’s a bunch of them) and Civita di Bagnoregio was on the way.I liked making the long walk into the city, watching it come into view around a corner and climbing up the bridge.The town was quiet, just beginning to wake up for tourists: big square umbrellas being opened at tables, shutters banging open and waiters on scooters making the drive across the bridge.I followed every little crooked lane to peek out over the edges of the city walls into the valley below. I think I read that the geological formations surrounding the city are called the ‘Badlands.’ The chalky, smaller cliffs look like they’ve been made of sand and dust, like they could be knocked down in a light wind. It’s all strangely beautiful.At the far edge of the city, steps and a trail lead down one side of the cliff to a place that’s been dug out of the city (this can’t help with the erosion problem). It was a tomb back in Etruscan days, but has also served as a stable for farm animals and is now a little chapel.

As an American, everywhere you go in Europe is like ‘going back in time,’ so I hesitate to use that phrase but I saw things in Civita di Bagnoregio like a stone olive press and a wood-burning bread oven.In fact, on my way out, I saw a truck the size of a scooter bringing wood into the city, presumably for the oven. The next time I go, maybe I’ll arrive later in the day to taste the bread and oil on offer.

Before walking back to my car, I sat for a while on the wide, stone steps in the main square to rest, grateful for a gorgeous start to a new day.

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After enjoying the view of Lago di Bolsena from our hilltop town of Montefiascone, we decided to take a day to get closer to the water.

We could not have had a more gorgeous day, so we took our time driving all the way around the lake, stopping here and there.

We walked a bit along the water, enjoying the views and noticing wildflowers.

Then we found a gorgeous restaurant for lunch that served fish fresh from the lake, al fresco of course.

Followed by dessert. I had tiramisu which was divine.

After sitting a long time outside, we continued our drive up to the town of Bolsena, an ancient Etruscan fortress.

We parked the car and spent a couple hours wandering the town,

Climbing to the top of the walled city…

And enjoying views from the north side of Lake Bolsena (Lago di Bolsena).

But as gorgeous as the sky and sea were, our favorite corners of the town were found by following smaller lanes to dead ends or tiny shops.

We spent a good amount of time admiring pottery in Bolsena.

And perfectly situated pots of flowers.

Of which there are many.

There’s something about Europe in general, and Italy specifically, that keeps me filling up camera space with doorways and entrances.

We bought a basket of strawberries to share before heading back to Montefiascone.

We were all delighted with our slow day of meandering around Lake Bolsena. We rested for a bit before walking back into Montefiascone for our last dinner together.

What a special treat it has been to be with dear friends in Italy! I’m super grateful to Nicola and Sandra for making the journey from Aberdeen!

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Snapshots of Montefiascone, a hilltop town in Italy overlooking Lago de Bolsena (Lake Bolsena).

Here are a few highlights from my first days in Italy:

Squeals of delight upon seeing dear friends.

A room in a hilltop monastery with a view of the valley below.

Wisteria-lined roads.

The ancient town fortress of Montefiascone.

Following cobblestone lanes to a church with a dome.

Sitting under the dome.

Walking and chatting.

Stopping for coffee and chats.

Stopping in parks and chatting on benches.

Wandering and wandering through the old town, criss-crossing squares and looking in shops.

Blue doors.

Finding ever more lovely views and brightly colored corners as we lingered on in town.

A restaurant (with a view) where a kind waiter let us in an hour before they opened for dinner to come in out of the rain for a drink – and then served us a four course meal + wine and coffee for 15 euro each AND sang karaoke!

Walking back to the monestary as the sun was setting over the lake, with full bellies and hearts. And lots of laughs.

Being in a beautiful place with my dear friends.

Montefiascone has been an exquisite backdrop for hours and hours of walking and talking, stopping for coffee, stopping for a meal and of course, stopping for gelato.

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