Can the trip of my dreams BE any better?
This is crazy. But today we left Sorrento with our driver, Jack. We wanted to go to Rome via the birthplace of Thomas Aquinas. There wasn't a lot of information on the young life of Saint Thomas. But we showed up in Roccasecca, underwhelming to the naked eye.
Um. Says Jack. Is there something special you wanted to see here?
We don't know. We say. Let's just drive around a have a look. One road and then another led us on a bit of a wild goose chase, but after twenty minutes or so of poking our nose into unmarked roadways that led us to the castle ruins that we could see on the rocky promontory above us. I think this is where we are meant to go.
Here, where Saint Thomas spent his first five years and where he was captured by his brothers and stuffed into a tower for not towing the Benedictine line, is an unspoiled, uncommercialized ruins of my special patron Saint Thomas Aquinas.
We parked at the bottom of the fortified wall, and walked in, and on and around the ruins for a 360 degree view of what young Thomas saw. The steps he sat on, the grassy little courtyard, the spring flowers that were his.
I was filled to the brim with the delight of it all. Virtually no one goes here. There appears to be a half hearted attempt to honour the saint, with an unattractive modern statue raised near the bottom of the hill, and some interesting signage telling the history of Roccasecca.
We had brought a picnic lunch, in the hopes there would be a nice place in the countryside inland between Naples and Rome. So we had a picnic, hiked around the castle ruins, the tower and the chapel (rebuilt after destruction during war time).
Who knew our last day in Italy would be so outstanding.
We arrived in our place near the Fiumicino Airport, outside of Rome, expecting the humdrum ambience typical for "airport hotels." Nuh uh.
It turns out the Fiumicino is a seaside town (I knew this, I just anticipated boring)
Well, never underestimate things when God is your tour guide. This is the spot where the the Tiber River dumps into the Mediterranean. There is a huge long canal cut along the edges of the river, where fishing boats come in the late afternoon. Big ones and small ones, they all lay out the days catch on the dock and the restaurateurs stroll along, choosing their menu for the evening.
The restaurants on the street on the opposite side of the dock don't open until about eight in the evening, to offer Italy's finest to their customers.
Tomorrow's flight is at about noon, we as excited about going home as we are sad about leaving.
This is crazy. But today we left Sorrento with our driver, Jack. We wanted to go to Rome via the birthplace of Thomas Aquinas. There wasn't a lot of information on the young life of Saint Thomas. But we showed up in Roccasecca, underwhelming to the naked eye.
Um. Says Jack. Is there something special you wanted to see here?
We don't know. We say. Let's just drive around a have a look. One road and then another led us on a bit of a wild goose chase, but after twenty minutes or so of poking our nose into unmarked roadways that led us to the castle ruins that we could see on the rocky promontory above us. I think this is where we are meant to go.
Here, where Saint Thomas spent his first five years and where he was captured by his brothers and stuffed into a tower for not towing the Benedictine line, is an unspoiled, uncommercialized ruins of my special patron Saint Thomas Aquinas.
We parked at the bottom of the fortified wall, and walked in, and on and around the ruins for a 360 degree view of what young Thomas saw. The steps he sat on, the grassy little courtyard, the spring flowers that were his.
I was filled to the brim with the delight of it all. Virtually no one goes here. There appears to be a half hearted attempt to honour the saint, with an unattractive modern statue raised near the bottom of the hill, and some interesting signage telling the history of Roccasecca.
We had brought a picnic lunch, in the hopes there would be a nice place in the countryside inland between Naples and Rome. So we had a picnic, hiked around the castle ruins, the tower and the chapel (rebuilt after destruction during war time).
Who knew our last day in Italy would be so outstanding.
We arrived in our place near the Fiumicino Airport, outside of Rome, expecting the humdrum ambience typical for "airport hotels." Nuh uh.
It turns out the Fiumicino is a seaside town (I knew this, I just anticipated boring)
Well, never underestimate things when God is your tour guide. This is the spot where the the Tiber River dumps into the Mediterranean. There is a huge long canal cut along the edges of the river, where fishing boats come in the late afternoon. Big ones and small ones, they all lay out the days catch on the dock and the restaurateurs stroll along, choosing their menu for the evening.
The restaurants on the street on the opposite side of the dock don't open until about eight in the evening, to offer Italy's finest to their customers.
Tomorrow's flight is at about noon, we as excited about going home as we are sad about leaving.
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