Back onto the Via Francigena, by way of Etruscan Road

9/19 - Orvieto to Bolsena - 13.68 miles
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Going to see some art

I wish I had seen the Duomo the day before; even though it would have been impossible given the circumstances, it would certainly have been more convenient. I awoke to the sound of rain, and groaning, took my sweet time getting ready. Part of me just wanted to stay, or at least skip going back up to the church, which was smack dab in the middle of that large plateau. Still, I am a stubborn son of a gun, and had left off up top, so I had to go up anyways if I wanted to keep on the right track. Moreover, I would have felt stupid coming all the way to Orvieto and then skipping the main attraction. So I put on my raingear, and still grumbling, took the funicular back up.

The duomo was beautiful, revealing Orvieto as a historical, powerful city. The chapel in which were housed the main Signorelli works was closed off, costing 5€ for admission. Grumbling even more, I dished out the money, left them to look after my backpack, and stepped into the chapel. I won't lie and say that I dropped to my knees, teared streaming from every orifice as I let the master works consume my soul in a flame of spiritual passion. They were, in the words of a 6th grader, cool and neat. And I guess that's how it is with me and works of art in Italy: if you're going to make me pay when there is so much to see for free, it better be worth it. *sigh* I know, looking back I won't remember the 5€ but the fact that I saw these works in person. Anyone who has leafed through an art history book and recognized works previously seen in person can tell you it's pretty damn satisfying, like seeing an ex-girlfriend dating a total loser, but no as mean, and to be honest, not as satisfying either.

Since I paid the 5€, I figured I might as well get my money's worth and see the museum too, which proved to be a good shelter from the rain, for the twenty minutes it took me to yawn my way through it. Whoa, negative nancy! Ok, it gets better, I promise. I just want to convey a little of the ill-at-ease and moodiness that accompany a rainy day, when you know that you'll have to walk through it. Actually, feeling this way even at the time, I decided to undertake a little Pollyanna exercise and jot down the top 5 reasons I like the rain.

5. Makes you appreciate sunny days that much more
4. Brings out all the wonderful smells of plants, trees, flowers, dirt, and even asphalt
3. Shows me that the extra weight of my rain gear is worthwhile after all
2. Allows me to keep milk chocolate in my backpack without it melting
1. Means I don't have to wash at least one of two outfits

The Etruscan Road to Bolsena

So, having checked another cultural must-see off my list (which is only getting longer, not shorter, as I grow older), I walked back down the plateau, a bit more treacherous in the rain, and continued on my way. I had said it gets better, and here's how. While looking for a place to sleep at the tourist information center the day before, I had received a map of old Etruscan roads linking Orvieto to various points, among them Bolsena, my destination. So, instead of walking along the side of the road, I got to wind my way through forests, tiny villages, expanses of farmland, and all of it on roads in use for thousands of years. There was something so real about this walk, so unique and untouched by time and tourism. I might as well have been walking three thousand years ago for most of it, and even though the rain was a bummer, it somehow made everything that much more authentic.

I walked the whole trail, roughly ten miles, without seeing another soul, and when I emerged on the outskirts of Bolsena, I was brought back to this century by three luxury cars, who actually stopped on the road to gawk at me, as if I were some Etruscan emerging from the primeval forest. It didn't help that I had chosen that exact moment to relieve myself... After an uncomfortable deer-in-headlights exchange, they moved on, and keeping a respectful distance I followed, expecting them to lead me to town. Wrong! A half-mile down the road, I came to the gates of a giant private villa, saw the three cars parked, and turned right around. I figured I probably was not going to get a cup of hot chocolate anyways, not after what had just happened.

By the time I had backtracked and reached Bolsena, I was completely worn out, even though the walk had been relatively short. I called the nuns, found out with joy that I was welcome to come, and walked the last stretch. Upon my arrival, I was treated royally, given a cup of hot tea and cookies, along with some newspaper to put in my shoes (helps them dry, they said, and they were right). These old nuns took good care of me, and with a hot shower and comfortable bed, I was soon restored to good health and spirits.