uno, due, tre ... lift

We went to Pavia yesterday -- pronounce with the accent on the second syllable. It took only a few mispronunciations in front of a real Italian to be quickly corrected.

There was a twenty-five minute train ride to get to Pavia. As we disembarked at the station other passengers were boarding; one of these passengers being a little Italian grandmother. From a distance we could see she was trying her darnedest to get a foot up onto the train entry step. The step was well higher than her knee height and she had resorted to lifting up her leg with her hands and trying to place it on the step. When she got it up there she couldn't get up the momentum necessary to rocket herself into the train. Enter Stefano who hustled up to the lady and asked if he could help. He grabbed her sides and lifted her up into the train. She thanked him and pronounced him "molto gentile" -- very kind -- with which I heartily agree. Seeing your husband lift an old lady into a train car would make any wife proud.



We then took a nearly immediate 10 minute ride on a local train to get to the Certosa of Pavia. There was some walking involved and it was along the road. Sometimes with a shoulder and sometimes without but either way I don't like feeling Smartcars and BMWs alike testing their maximum speed only a foot or two away. Eventually we found ourselves at the entrance to the world famous monastery commissioned in 1396 by the Visconti family. It was intended as the family mausoleum and is, but it is also the home for Carthusian monks who have taken a vow of silence. Thankfully there is a guided tour by one of the monks who has been allowed to speak and even though it was in Italian we understood a fair amount. We also understood that the people on the tour with us were, ahem, rude. There was one joyful creature who not only clonked her high heel boots around like a Clydesdale but also answered her cell phone within the church. Should I mention that she let the ringtone sing for a good twenty seconds before she even answered it? The monk was not amused.



This monastery is large, intricate and gorgeous. It is also freezing cold and breezy. One of the more interesting elements is the houses in which the monks lived. Built around a large and calm central cloister you can see them in the distance of this photo. Each home is for a single individual and allowed him to pray and eat without outside contact. His food was delivered via a secret spinning door system that permitted his meals to be delivered without the recipient or the messenger ever seeing the other. These gentlemen were, and are, very serious about their life's calling.



In the midst of great structural beauty and solemnity there was also a cleaning technique by which we were captivated. Apparently there is an herb that smells truly magnificent, is bright green, and cleanses terra cotta without unnecessary strain and damage. I'm not clear on what this herb is and there seemed to be confusion even among the native speakers. I heard the word bergemot bounced around... Regardless, it smells incredible and leaves behind little dustings of neon green within cracks and corners of the tiles. Had I not seen a man actually cleaning in this manner I would have thought there a vibrant moss colony thriving alongside the monks.



It was beautiful and solemn place and well worth the highway walking -- especially since the monks seem to have a taste for secret doors and stairways. We were also very lucky in our timing -- just as we were exiting the church the giant wooden doors were quietly shut behind us, and as we exited the grounds we discovered by the waiting crowds who were unable to enter that even Monks embrace the two-hour-plus lunchtime closing that all of Italy seems to practice. When it Italy...