Finding Easter While Dodging Raindrops

the journey so far

We have been in Italy for nearly two weeks now; but we haven’t moved very far by bike. Instead we have been chasing centuries-old Easter celebrations in small towns in the Pescara area of Abruzzo.  And find some, we did. However, none of them compared with the Easter experiences we had a few years ago in Trapani, Sicily.

too much rain

We were disappointed with our first stop at Atri where we expected to find “the Passione di Jesu” on Wednesday of Holy Week. They had held it on the Tuesday this year, so we missed it but still managed to enjoy our hosts at the B&B l’Albero di Antonia and to enjoy wandering the little town despite the rain.

 

a poster of the yearly processione in Chieti

We cycled to the town of Chieti, a fortress on the top of a bluff, a process which involved some walking as we got into the centro of the city.  Here they have been holding the Good Friday Easter Procession since 842 AD. On Friday morning, to prepare ourselves, we walked into the pedestrian only centre of town and enjoyed the lively atmosphere of the market. A visit to the cathedral gave us a glimpse of the statues that would be carried during the procession and advised us of a “canto” that would take place at noon. 

We spent the rest of the morning walking the town and looking for the museum. When we arrived at the enormous park, we could not find the entrance to the building, so we asked a kind looking couple. Of course this set up a conversation, in our very poor Italian, about their families: who had emigrated to Montreal and who was now living in Toronto. Besides the information we were seeking about the entrance to the museum, we were also advised strongly to visit the cathedral at noon to hear the canto. So thank you, kind Italians, and arrivederci.

the warrior of Capestrano

Chieti was originally a Roman town called Theate and has been well designed on the flat top of this cliff. The piece de resistance in this museum is the Warrior of Capestrano  (no swallows around though). Most of the artifacts were gleaned from necropoli in surrounding towns.

 

museum glassware and pottery just like Minas'

I had never seen stone burial beds on legs before so that was a new learning  for me; but some of the glassware and pottery I see every day as I am eating my meals at our dining room table. They are identical to the ones Minas brought out of Turkey when he was a young man. If you look closely, you might agree.

what we could see of the choir but we heard it well enough

Following our museum visit we made our way to the cathedral which was packed with people. We did manage to find a spot against a pillar near the front. The choir was all male and about a hundred strong. They were accompanied by an orchestra of young people playing mostly stringed instruments. When the conductor raised his baton and they opened their mouths, we were astounded by the depth and volume of the sound. What a treat to listen to the ensuing half hour of music. The piece was “The Miserare” by the Italian composer, Selecchi. It was unfamiliar to me but I imagine that it was as old as the processione, just a matter of a century or two more than a millennium.

We floated out of the church buoyed by the music and the feelings of Good Friday in a decidedly catholic environment. 

As we took some money out of the ATM machine, we met our kind Italian couple again only to be grilled about how we liked the museum and had we attended the canto. “Si, si, buonissimo,” we responded. Now began the exhortations to go and visit the Museo Civitello. We said we needed lunch first and for this they had advice too. In the style we had now become accustomed to, they pointed us in the direction of Da Ninno’s, not one of our Trip Advisor choices but an awesome local restaurant filled with families lunching out on this holiday Friday. We had a large lunch which required an afternoon of resting, so we never did get to the other museum.  So sorry, kind Italian friends.

the crowd awaits the processione

About seven o’clock we ventured into the streets to see the Venerdi Sancto Processione.  We waited for several hours on the steps of a church along the route of the procession before it all got underway. 

The lamps were lit on either side of the street and the parade of people in white hoods was eerily silent as they made their way through the town. The onlookers, who had been full of chat and laughter while waiting, quietened and were very respectful of those walking and carrying the various depictions of the events of that Good Friday so long ago. 

The white hoods, with just holes for the eyes, were a little unnerving at first as they bore such a resemblance to those of the Klu Klux Klan. I intend to dig a little further into that coincidence when I get home. At the end of the procession came the hundred strong male choir singing the Miserare from beginning to end so I got to enjoy it all over again.

We spent the Saturday and Sunday of Easter weekend at a lovely place called Castello Chiola in Loreto Aprutino where we managed some lovely riding in the green hills. 

It was good to get in a little exercise as Easter lunch is a substantial and lengthy affair. At first we had planned to ride for the better part of Easter Sunday but our trip without the luggage did not take us as much time as we had thought so we hurried back to the hotel and asked for a table for lunch. They were fully booked but very accommodating and set up a small table for two in a room packed with families seated at tables of eight or more. We had time for a quick shower and were seated in the main hall with our glass of Prosecco waiting to be called into the dining room.

It was close to 2 pm before things got underway. Six courses followed one after the other for the next three hours. First came an egg timbale with small pieces of lamb and asparagus accompanied by a little arugula salad. 


Then we had gnocchi with artichokes, followed by another pasta dish with fish. The main course was medallion of veal with spinach. This was topped off with a frozen bavarois and then an Easter cake with chocolate sauce. We ordered a bottle of our favourite montepulciano d’abbruzzo wine, Pan, to go with the food. We were grateful that we could just stagger up the stairs for a few hours of digestion.

And then we did it all again the very next day on Easter Monday. When we arrived at our B&B, La Vecchia Teatro in Ortona. It was 2:15 pm and we learned that the restaurant they ran across the street wasn’t open in the evening – only for pranza, lunch. Could we come for lunch then? OK! It was the fastest shower ever and my daughters would have been berating me for showing up at a restaurant with wet hair; but such is life. We wanted to eat. And that we did! This was a set menu of fish and they just kept bringing little plates of deliciousness to the table. More montepulciano d’abbruzzo wine, unfortunately not the Pan, but good anyway.  

The difference between the two meals back to back was the setting: castle versus cute tavern; the guests: well-dressed families versus a casually dressed mix of people; and the menu: a well thought out combination of delicacies in reasonable portions versus an all-out fish extravaganza.  And if you can believe it, the set price of the fish meal was higher – not that we were complaining.

The next day we wanted to visit the Moro River Canadian Cemetery, where 1375 Canadians, who died in Italy during the Second World War, are buried. Although it is only three kilometres south of Ortona, we got lost for an hour looking for the correct road. 

An affable chap, who was going back to Rome after the holiday week-end, said he would guide us there. That is very nice but have you ever tried riding a bike along-side a gentleman in a car, who is going slow enough  to accompany you? 

 The traffic was piling up behind him and then passing him at top speed. It was nerve-racking for me. 
At one traffic circle, he seemed indecisive. Just then another car drew up. A new gentleman jumped out and said that he had seen us three times in his errands that morning and we had been going in circles. Yep! That much I had figured out. 

The two Italians, one a local and one from Rome had a bit of an argument about which road to take, while we looked on in amusement. The local won and set us on the right road. We thought that would be the end of it. 

But no, when we got to the cemetery, there was Mr. Rome, waiting to give us the guided tour, opening the registry of graves and the visitors’ book. Thank goodness he did leave us then. 
 We were able to enjoy the peace of the place and to ponder of the terrible loss of life of so many young men from points right across our great country.


 

Canadian graves at Moro River Cemetery

 So we are enjoying ourselves, despite the constant threat of rain. Arrivederci till next time.