I departed beautiful Assisi on the day after St. Francis’ Feast, October 5th.
I enjoyed an hour or so browsing through the big open market that is held on Piazza del Comune and along some of its side streets. Stefano had told me about this event which only happens once a year. There were numerous merchants selling various items, including shoes, clothes, sunglasses, housewares, sausages, cured meats, cheeses, porchetta, onions, potatoes and garlic. I was hoping to buy some grapes or other fruit but I didn't find any.
At noon I walked to the bus stop, boarded the bus and bid Assisi farewell as the bus left the beautiful city behind.
I then took the train to Foligno and waited for the bus that would take me to Montefalco.
When I boarded the bus in front of the train station, it was nearly empty but soon became packed with exuberant teen students. I’d asked the bus driver (in Italian) to please tell me when we would arrive to Montefalco, and he’d agreed with an affirmative, “sì!”
I’d studied the bus schedule and I knew what time it should arrive to my destination, but apparently the bus didn’t make one of its stops and it was running a few minutes ahead of schedule.
When I realized that my stop was imminent, I walked to the front and asked the driver if Montefalco was the next stop. I was surprised when he replied: “Abbiamo già passato Montefalco!” (we already passed Montefalco!)
What, how is this possible? I thought to myself.
When I asked if I should get off at the next stop, he said no. He then started talking on his cell phone and kept driving farther and farther away from Montefalco. He finally stopped at a large empty parking lot and proceeded to tell me that the next bus back to Montefalco would be coming by at 17:00. He even wrote the time on a piece of paper to make sure I had understood.
I said “Grazie” and got off the bus feeling upset and discouraged. The time was 14:15.
So as I stood there in the middle of this empty parking lot with a sign that read, “Piazza del Popolo”(in Bastardo), I remembered something Wray wrote to me a few months back, something she had learned from a yoga teacher:
“life is a series of "adventures”, all adventures are good. They are
learning experiences to expand our being"
Hmmm… How is this supposed to be a “good” adventure?
Fortunately, I’d emailed the hotel a few days prior and had asked if someone would meet me at the bus stop. So when I called the hotel and explained my situation, the voice at the other end was calm and reassuring: "don't worry madam someone will come and get you”. I heard myself saying; Grazie mille!
Then Cecilia said; “Stefano will be there in a short time". When I asked what color his car was, she replied; "a black Porsche"
I looked around to find a place to sit and then noticed a young woman sitting on the curve at the edge of the parking lot so I walked over, lugging my small carry-on, and sat by her. I said hello and we ended up having a nice conversation (thanks to Google- translate) until my ride arrived. At the young age of seventeen, she told me that she thought Italy was “boring” and that she and her boyfriend were saving their money to move to California! I encouraged her to continue her education and to make the best out of her life.
Stefano arrived in his black Porsche as promised, I bid the young woman farewell and we drove off. When I thanked Stefano he said; "no problem, Montefalco is only 8 Kilometers from Bastardo". When we arrived at the hotel, Stefano helped me with my luggage. Then Cecilia, the hotel's receptionist, greeted me and showed me to my room on the second floor. After dropping off my luggage, I went downstairs and received a map of the town. I asked about a market but there wasn't one nearby. Cecilia told me about a small convenient store in the piazza but it was closed that day.
Continued below...