Back to Perugia and Assisi one more time: a five-star fortress, more of the Via di Francesco, cats running a church, and a train strike with a two-hour sprint across Rome.
An A330 to Rome this time — life is too short to fly cargo. Then the train up to Perugia, where I decided to walk from the station to the hotel. Only 2 km, thought I; no problem, thought I. Unbeknownst to me, it's straight up a hill. Hence the name fortress — built specifically to keep annoying visitors at bay.
At check-in I tried practicing my Italian, and the poor fellow kindly suggested we switch to English. Italian is harder than Duolingo led me to believe.
Upgraded to the Sina Brufani, the five-star hotel in Perugia, right in the Centro Storico where you're in the middle of the action. Breakfast worthy of the setting, marble staircases, and a balcony sunset over the Umbrian valley that made the uphill hike almost feel intentional.
The central market is bustling — a fresh fish stall with a view over the city, and a guy playing the Godfather theme on the accordion. At the Slovakian market square, a French lady explained to me in English why she was selling German bratwurst. Kids ordering beer at 10 am: perfectly normal.
The Cattedrale di San Lorenzo is fascinating — stained glass letting light shine off the walls and statues. Then lunch on the cathedral steps along with everyone else, courtesy of the excellent kebab takeaway a few meters away. The only question: is noon too early to order beer?
Across the plaza I stopped into the state government building and watched a debate in progress — real political issues discussed intelligently and thoughtfully, like adults. A big contrast to back home, and I used to work in city government. (They were speaking Italian, but they used small words and their PowerPoints had lots of pictures.) Next door, the National Gallery: ten euros and definitely worth it.
Discovered the Minimetro. Gosh I love this tram — why didn't I know about it before I walked all the way up from the station? It stops in several neighborhoods along the way, a perfect cross-section of life in a medium-sized Italian city, and it ends at the carnival grounds with amusement rides, the Saturday market, the local McDonald's, and the world-famous Baci chocolate factory. You can bring your dog into McDonald's, but not into the chocolate store.
Halloween is a big deal in Perugia: a merry-go-round running non-stop, kids in costume going store to store, and perfect weather — a little warm in the afternoon, a slight chill in the evening.
Back to Assisi — the train is only ten minutes, so you can easily spend all day. Buses keep unloading tourists all day long, but wait until nightfall in autumn and Assisi becomes a magical place: the sun going down on the red walls, the Piazza del Comune coming to life with markets, music, and kids running around. Wander the back streets at night and you get a feel for what it was like when Francis lived here in the 12th century. Get up early and you can watch the mist rise off the cobblestones and the fog lift over the valley.
The basilicas of Saint Francis and Saint Clare, of course, plus the Temple of Minerva with its underground Roman foundations. Down at San Damiano — Saint Clare's wonderful retreat — there is always someone singing. Santa Maria degli Angeli was still under construction (they've been at it since I was here in 2022), with the Porziuncola covered over and mass held out front on those uncomfortable plastic chairs. Still fun. And the cats who run the church of Santo Stefano up the hill? They're fine, and yes, still in charge. No sign of the friars.
Italian train strike. A fact of life in Italy, and everyone knew it was coming — except me. Up early for the flight: no train. Over to the bus station: no bus. A kind tour guide showed me how to book the next bus by texting a travel company in Düsseldorf. The bus stopped at every village on the way to Rome and dropped me at Tiburtina — the wrong side of Rome from the airport train. So: broken-Italian pleading, a hop on the first bus heading north (nobody checked tickets), riding it as long as Google Maps agreed with the direction, then almost two hours on foot with a backpack while Delta kept calling to ask where I was. Honestly a better tour of Rome than any guide could sell you.
Missed the flight anyway. Delta kindly rebooked me on Air France the next day — bonus day in Rome — and a Boeing 777 took me home through Paris, straight through customs at RDU. Sweet. Atlanta customs is a zoo; I'm flying Air France more often.