.

Crank up the trusty diesel hire car for today is the 15th of May

and the Ceri Festivale at Gubbio. This annual event is a prime

example of the festivo of the fervent as 3 cabals shunt a top heavy cradle

of candles drunkenly about the town. The Italian attitude of historical event

preservation is a catalyst for fatuous festivales forever preserving the local tourist industry.

The Red & Yellows, Red & Blue and Red & Black teams from 3 parts of Gubbio had a sprawling series of shunts in a quasi-

religious manner. Viewing for the agnostic means one can only admire the manic fervour attached to the ceremony laden with

Catholic overtones. The crowds were shouting and rushing down cobblestone alleys tipping the giant statues into upstair windows to

gain the blessings of supporters. The kaleidoscope of merging colours with the red scarves added to the carnival of candles. Who

cares who wins the race when the front running handicap of last year’s winner enables them to thwart the passage of the less

fortunate team’s.

 

Gubbio also hosts a battle of the street brass bands amid jostling

supplicants the bands promenade along the tight streets blasting hooting and

trumpeting whilst trying to musically out muscle each other. The sounds

resonated through the high walls taking on a loud persona of raucous Mardi

gras participants. The streets were alive with the triptych of the cantonatos and

the moving local participants did not interface with the fawning tourists.

The wreath of brickwork is overwhelming and the need to spontaneously join in

is helped by the open wine bars or entocea. Whole baked wild boar served with

panninos doused with the local Rossi was available at every cafe. The

proprietor of our first wine shop was aware of the need for plastic glasses and

napkins and packed it to travel.

A stagger up imposingly steep

cobbled walkways to the Museo

on a plateau above the town led

to a bounteous setting. Grass

squares with trimmed hedgerows,

crowded with Italian revellers

picnicking on the manicured

lawns. The view over Gubbio with

the sounds of deoxygenated

Brassery created an endearing

memory of the Ceri Festivale.

The red at E6.50 was as good as

it gets plus the chunks of boar

had both crackling and body pieces attached. A Gargantuan feast held in an atmosphere of medieval magnificence incongruously

tenanted by the clergy.

The town was left well in the shadow of celebration and the pathways were

strewn with revellers as the heavy “Ceri” Statues still tottered about. The

length of daily sunlight and no pressure to succumb to the delights of

calorie overkill meant a stop at perhaps Assisi was on the agenda.

The vagaries of Italian sign

posting prevailed upon our

limited cartographical ability and

somehow a torturous route to

Perugia prevailed. Assisi was

lost and Spello was found.

Spello is a pristine, houseproud

competent operation and history

treated this town well. It helps to

have the template right but the

inhabitants have made Spello to

last.

The tourist shops had service

slickness, business savvy ,and

a touch of class all without

taking away the fairytale. The

walk is steep from bottom to top

but a solicitous stop for a gelato

at Bar Giardino on Via Garibaldi 10 is full of

surprises. The price of a good

expresso or gelato enables one to wander into the

garden to rare Italian table

service plus an adjunct to the commercial operation is a view to die for stretching over the Umbrian countryside. This is a cheap

opportunity to take ones own postcard picture, get knocked over by the view, whilst musing the inequities of overpriced Roman

pavement dining.

This corporeal inactivity is not going to prevail and Bevagna

at the start of the rise to the hilltops beckons to be

explored. This is a village that looks like a setting in a

rumplestiltskin tale with a moat like river surrounding

fairytale walls. An easy access carpark outside the

walls allows entry through the original gates. It

was a quiet start due to siesta time as the tight

people free streets took on the persona of the

Village of the Dammed.

This is a town, which behoves making a friend,

as surely not a lot else seems to be going on.

Every small village is in the eye of the beholder

and the memories are gauged by complimentary

activities that happen. This place can be

circumnavigated in an hour or two and has good

makings for a quiet holiday with a group of like-

minded participants.

The short Bevagna perambulate is over and the

road across the valley to Trevi looms next on the

agenda. There is an ulterior motive in this route

as a search for the elusive Italian Mall to top up

supplies is required. The shopping at the

Folognia/Trevi “Wonderful” Supermercato is

notable for its ordinariness and abysmal

shopping. Italians do not do Malls well perhaps they could be renamed Mauls? The plight of the small shop owner in Italy is

alleviated by the fact that pensions are augmented by many small family businesses and shopping centres are not wanted.

Trevi is yet again another walled monument to the Papal pilgrim trail which has stood the test of time. This is another village that

perhaps needs a guided tour to elucidate its characteristics and reveal the hidden treasures. To stop in rambling fashion at the end

of a day is not conducive to exploratory memories. The obligatory stop for espresso and to inveigle yet another unpaid toilet stop

into the cost is never far from the psyche.

Public toilets are an anathema to the bladder deprived and Italian public amenities are no competition due to extinction. A walk

through Trevi’s tight streets cause the stomach to be drawn in as the Smart Car set rark through the alleys without fear of retribution.

The ubiquitous dominant Church Square is a stamping ground for the aficionados of Italian idolatry and one wonders if anybody

works. Tick and another village has had the flick as the road to Spoleto beckons.

The Trevi road along the S3 to Spoleto leads through the neoclassical outskirts of a nondescript perimeter town. Ugly modern

suburbs leading in to the Piazza Garibaldi (every town has one of these) before heading uphill into the old town true. Spoleto has a

commercial bent that is less enchanting than the smaller villages but still manages to close meals off at 3.00pm. The view from the

Piazza Liberta onto the Roman Amphitheatre offsets the ordinariness of a badly made Panini nearby.

The town is like a construction camp and a scramble into the alleys left a dry throat and an exposure to sacking cloth syndrome. The

dispensing of Tartufo (truffle) is clearly competitive but the prized white

was

readily available to stash in the dilly bag. The town is a hotch potch of

streets and high buildings reaching up the hillside with a need for local

knowledge and a cut lunch.

Each village is an experience and tourists will be glad of the sanctuary of

the agritourismo retreat and a foot wary homecoming. Everyday brings

another foray into the countryside to yet another petite facsimile of every

“Under Tuscan Sun “. Village in situ. Assisi is the jewel of religious tourism

outside of Rome and should be avoided at any cost during the European

and American holidays.

Perhaps St Francis would harbour a smirk if he could see the crass

memorabilia being sold at his blessed site. This town in the quiet times is

worthy of any stopover and the best entry is to drive into the top via the

meandering and spectacular road.

The restoration after the earthquake in the late 1990s is world class and it

is hard to imagine the destruction as it was. For the purveyors of footwear

one can even view the original Assisian sandal circa St Francis. The village

has spectacular ramparts that perch above the valley of the main pilgrim

march.

Walking through many levels reveals a pert piazza with even a Hollywood style Roman temple that looks like Charlton Heston’s

anteroom. This is the part of Umbria that has been assaulted by the ubiquitous Lotobus tourist so times of visitation need to be

monitored.

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Roscoe King - mob: 0439761815 - a/h: 07-54446000 - email: Roscoetfdq@gmail.com - PO Box 505 4557

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