How do you follow up a night of food debauchery, of excess so excessive that it should be spelled with three x’s?  After the triumphant first and final performance of “The Gilocchi Show” there was only one way to atone, physically, mentally and spiritually.

Sunday mass in Assisi.

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After a five figure calorie intake the previous evening and tipping the breathalyzer in double digits, Sunday cried out for its rightful place in the order of things.  The day of rest.  But on our Food and Wine tours there is rarely any rest for the weary, lest an opportunity to tone the jaw muscles be missed.  Nonetheless, we had previously planned to make our way to nearby Assisi to observe if not participate in the Sunday mass and to wander around this Roman-medieval jewel.

We arrived at the Basilica of St. Francis, the monument to Assisi’s favorite son (and Pietro di Bernardone’s least favorite son) surprisingly on time for mass in the lower basilica.  The basilica is actually two churches, the basilica superiore (the upper chapel) and the basilica inferiore (the lower chapel), as you can never build too many churches to St. Francis.  We took our seats and began celebrating with the congregation.  In Chinese.  Or Korean.  Or Japanese.  Whatever language it was, it was neither Latin nor Italian nor English.  God must be quite the linguist.

We discovered the mainstream mass was not in the basilica inferiore, but rather in the basilica superiore – I’m sure there’s no value judgment intended there – and moved upstairs where the priest was easier to follow, the faithful more numerous and the frescos more Giotto.  It was quite an experience to be able to celebrate the mass surrounded by the most celebrated frescos in the history of Art History 101.  That St. Francis – as Giotto depicted his life in an enormous cartoon comic strip plastered onto the walls – he sure could have used a new barber.

For a person who doesn’t consider himself much of a churchgoer (based on my nearly perfect record of never attending), mass in Assisi was a pretty interesting thing to do.

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After mass we wandered up the Via San Francesco to drop in on an exhibition of Botero plasters.  No, this was not some sort of demonstration of medicine for corns, it was an exhibition of plaster sculptures by the Colombian artist Fernando Botero.  You might not know Botero by name, but you know him.  He is the artist that paints figures that have just eaten other figures.

Given our eating habits over the past several days, it was a slightly uncomfortable gallery visit.  But at least the doorways were plenty wide.

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After Botero there was time for a light lunch (the Botero factor was still weighing on us and everyone turned down that last piece of salami) and then a two hour walking tour of Assisi.  Here we learned or relearned the history of this town, from its Umbrian and Roman origins to the chapter of St. Francis’ life to the town’s modern history as the world’s largest outdoor religious trinket market.  The guide forgot to mention it is the largest producer of figurines of monks playing cards with each other.

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Then it was downhill, literally, to Santa Maria degli Angeli, the town built on the spot where St. Francis settled after he left Assisi and renounced his father and all worldly possessions.  Here in Santa Maria degli Angeli they worship both St. Francis and worldly possessions, apparently able to multitask where Francis had a one track mind.  Our visit took us to the town’s enormous cathedral, built over the meeting house where Francis established his order of frate minore.  It is a rather astonishing sight, to walk into an enormous church and find a house standing under the crossing.  Back home they call that sort of thing a hold out.

And then it was back home, for a light, homemade dinner and a reasonable number of bottles of wine.  A day after setting all manner of land based consumption records, Sunday, the day of rest, a day for reflection and introspection was welcome indeed.  Besides, we had to make room for dinner with Ernesto on Monday night.

Ci vediamo!
Bill and Suzy