A very long post for a very long day

Day 28: Tribil Sopra to Cividale di Friuli 

Hours walked: 8:30-5:00

Kilometres walked: 25.1

Jesuses seen: a couple, but really Mary is now all over the roads in every shrine. 

Quote of the day: “Aurora! Che nome bellissima! Italianissima!” - Effusive grandma who let us into the apartment 

We knew we had a long day so we hoped to get out as early as possible. But our plans didn’t account for the social nature of Italy. We had breakfast at the hostel at 7am; towards the end of our quick meal, we got to chatting with a very pleasant Danish hiker going S-N; he’d just started, having abandoned the Slovenian Mountains Trail as it was impassably choked with snow. Just as we were leaving, the woman who runs the hostel came in; and, perhaps to make up for yesterday’s gruffness, talked on and on about her background, the errors we made in the booking process, our plans for the year, her personal thoughts and anecdotes, and on and on (all in French). 

By the time we actually started walking, it was 8:30. Jakob was hopping from foot to foot with poorly-stifled impatience as we had over 23 trail kilometres to go, and recently these have been underestimates. While we normally let the kids walk at their own pace, which is quite slow, today we tried to hurry them a little bit more. This did little to help Tova’s mood, which is usually low when she knows it’s going to be a long day. 

Our trail was largely on cute, single-track paths for much of the morning - we passed a herd of sheep, saw lovely villages nestled in the hills - but by 10:30, when we reached the small church of San Giovanni, we had only gone 5km.   When we got to a point where our trail paralleled the road for a kilometre, we decided to speed things up on asphalt. The children were surprisingly pleased to have a section of less challenging walking, and chatted all the way down the quiet road. 

A short sharp climb brought us to Castelmonte around 1:00 - an imposing complex of buildings that looks both old and well-tended at the same time. We walked on a small, narrow cobblestoned street through the settlement that has sprung up around the church since it was built in the 1470’s. It was getting quite hot, and we were happy to relax in the shade with popsicles and homemade (not by us) apricot biscuits and cherry crostata. Zadie risked all by choosing a “tesorino” when all her sisters got popsicles, but this turned out to be an actual (blue) treasure chest with a generous amount of vanilla and chocolate ice cream inside, and a secret compartment containing a small cardboard maze. It was pretty much the high point of her life so far and the chest is our new life companion. 

The afternoon brought a long stretch of dirt and asphalt roads with no shade - luckily, some clouds had mercy on us and cooled things off at just the right time. Jakob read Harry Potter 6 aloud until his phone was near death. We found a few mulberries and cherries. We emerged into fields of wheat and vineyards lined with tiny green unripe grapes. 

As we approached the hamlet of Purgessimo, we passed a wizened man hacking away at weeds on the trail. He greeted us with a big smile and some conversation, and within two minutes had insisted we follow him down to his house for cold water. We gratefully accepted, as much for the kind and uncommon gesture as for the temptation of a cool drink. On the way down the hill, he paused several times to snap at an offending branch or leaf with his shears, obviously very proud of his work. 

We ended up chatting with Claudio for a long time. He insisted on getting chilled water and glasses, which was somewhat hampered by his having lost his keys. We stood awkwardly as he combed through five or six pairs of shoes to no avail; eventually he disappeared behind the house and re-emerged with spring water and a cold beer. It turns out he maintains the whole trail up to Tribil - 20km, not easy to do - and loves his Fender Stratocaster as much as Jakob loves his. Jakob had a delightful time using his rustic Italian, and learned how to pronounce many musicians’ names - the trick is to say it all in a single syllable: Stevierayvaughan. Ironmaiden. Beebeeking. Oh we also learned tritone means newt.  

Eventually we left, with a new archetype of awesome 80-year-old to aspire to, and walked the final hour into Cividale. This is a town of 11,000 people, much bigger than the last few. It’s very cute and medieval, with a juxtaposition of old stone campaniles and modern fashion. We were greeted at our very cute apartment by not one but two grandmothers, who doted on us with incredible verve and charm. Sophia’s braids were stroked, Zadie’s beaming face was pinched. The word “brava” was uttered at least 200 times. Older Italians are outdoing themselves in effusiveness and good cheer so far, it’s wonderfully exhausting. 

We showered and went out to Pizzeria Cappriciò, where we got a “maxi” pizza of improbable proportions (Zadie could have curled up on it without touching the table), and then delicious artisanal gelato: Black Forest, roasted pine nut, biscotto, but the best was pistachio. Tova and Zadie both had minor meltdowns at bedtime, but after such a long day of experiencing Italy’s trails and personalities, who can blame them?