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It is Domenica (Sunday) morning in the Piazza Novembre
IV, Perugia, Umbria, Italy. Umbria is geographically located
in the very heart of Italy. Its tactical location remained
resilient against the many North-South wars waged upon its
grounds. Its symbolic location is why it has become a refuge
to many alternative and left-wing artists, writers, poets,
philosophers and politicians of the modern times. I'm sitting
on the stone steps of the Duomo (cathedral), the most
popular gathering place in Perugia, basking in the gentle
sun and reading a book written by my friend Giammi Venditti,
about the spiritual and mystical experiences of his fictional
character, Barnaras, in Varanasi, India.
Just last night, we were standing at the foot of these same
steps, circling the Fontana Maggiore (main fountain),
and discussing the symbolism inlaid around its twelve facets:
from the mythology of Hercules, to the tale of Adam and Eve,
to the major schools of philosophy and academy. Giammi is
a tantric yoga instructor whom I met the morning before in
front of the Chiesa San Nicolas, Assisi, holy ground
to thousands of pilgrims who seek to retrace the steps of
Francis Assisi, the saint who could communicate with the
animals of the ground and the birds of the sky.
I was admiring a flock of white doves when he approached me
about his book. That night we accidentally met again underneath
the great lights of the Carousel in Perugia. I visited his
Yoga Studio, a holistic wellness center offering yoga, massage
therapy and counseling. It was the first time that I received
a cranial-sacral massage, one that I would regret for the
next three days, even though I had been alerted of some discomfort
that would follow after the first session. Nothing could have
prepared me to the fact that it actually felt like I had a
really bad sun-burn around my neck and shoulders! Gianluigi
was confident about his practice, gentle, intuitive and passionate.
It's almost 10 AM, time for mass, and families come flocking
out into the piazza, strolling their children and aged parents
under the gentle Umbrian sun. Pigeons, instead of water, adorn
the fountain in this warm winter day. Perugians are so close
to earth, to their 'place,' living side by side to the ancient
Etruscan well and wall. When one praises the architecture
or frescoes of a particular building, they do not hesitate
to offer, full of pride and dignity, "yes, and it is
more than 1300 years old." The aged steps of the duomo
are worn with time and show the vestiges of people, birds
and crawling insects. Yet, the Perugians, in their finest
Sunday winter attire of gabardine and wool pants, silk ascots,
cashmere wool scarves, classic and finely cut trench coats,
silk wool and leather jackets, elegant skirts, beautifully
collared sweaters, leather boots and purses, have no qualms
about sitting out in those rugged steps. Children look so
beautiful cuddled up in their wooly, fluffy and vibrant jackets
and coats (European fashion sense is even evident in children!)
chasing pigeons and running around the piazza under their
families' watchful eyes. It is evident that they practice
the principle of raising a child through the entire tribe.
The colors and voices of this warm Sunday scene dance to the
nostalgic sound of the accordion played with full Italian
vigor and flair by a street artist. I gather around him with
the crowd and leave him some change as a sign of appreciation.
Just a short step away from the main piazza, I find myself
whirling through the ancient stone steps and homes. The stone
surface gives the narrow and at times arched streets a cool
ambience, reminding me of freshly hung laundry in the open
air. A short walk up the windy steps and the view opens into
a vast panorama of Perugia painted by light brown, orange
and yellow stone buildings, parading their aged terracotta
tile roofs. Further away, is the beautiful Umbrian countryside
of valleys and hills dotted with grape and olive groves in
various shades of green, yellow and brown. I inhale deeply
and give a big sigh…
It's quite amusing to be brought back to times, as the quietude
of this beautiful Sunday morning is momentarily shattered
by the blasting radio sound of a very familiar American pop
tune, as the sing-along voices of some Italian teenage girls
also come through. I listen intently and try to follow the
sound to its wooden shutter and window of origin, but no sooner
is the sound gone, and I am reminded that it does not matter,
life on earth, here and there, yesterday, now and forever,
it is all just the same. |
Travel writers: Impressions of a Sunday morning in Perugia
By Min Kim
