Although the prospect of breakfast served in my room is rather luxurious, it turns out to be the worst cup of coffee I've had in Italy. The situation is not improved when I try and order a cup in Nannini - the waitress obviously doesn't hear me say "cafe", just "latte" and I end up with a glass of warm milk.
I head up to the stadium where the Lonely Planet informs me there is a Wednesday market, but it's just an enormous collection of nasty cheap clothes and general tat.
The day is dark and rainy, the first rain since I arrived, but it makes it slightly miserable and damp to wander around sightseeing.
I head to the Duomo to try and get some pictures, but sulk away after seeing any chance of getting a decent shot is destroyed by the hoards of oriental tourists all obediently following upheld umbrellas.
It's too misty to climb the bell tower (thank heaven) so I decide on the shrine of Santa Caterina. Although one of Italy's favourite saints it's clearly not with the tourists today and I have the place to myself.
As I enter the chapel I am stopped dead in my tracks and my eyes brim with the kind of tears that absolute beauty brings. I am moved to my core and I stand open mouthed gazing at my surroundings. It's a small chapel covered with beautiful frescoes and artwork. My brains first impression is of colour; gold and blue. I have an overwhelming feeling of goodness, serenity and grace. I get on my knees in front of the altar, it seems the only thing to do. I leave with not so much an image, but a feeling. Reassured? Protected? The cynic in me notes the gift shop on the way out.
I continue up the hill to San Domenico - Santa Caterina's church. Although the body of Caterina is in Rome, in line with the practice of preserving relics of the dead, her head is in a tabernacle above the altar. Not much thanks for flogging yourself.
I spend an age looking for one of the restaurant's recommended in LP, but it's like trying to find Platform nine and three quarters and I settle on somewhere nearer to my B&B. Although I order my first glass of Chianti I'm paranoid I can hear Dolores laughing that it will trigger a migraine and I leave it after a couple of sips.
I finally make it into the Cathedral in the afternoon. It truly is the most amazing piece of architecture I have ever seen. It overwhelms the senses once inside and it's impossible to take in every detail. It's built from black and white striped marble - a huge stick of godly rock. Every available surface is used - mosaics on the floors, pictures on the walls and ceilings, gold leaf, cherubs, angels, gargoyles, lions, saints, bishops, Christ, Mary and an amazing Gothic pulpit which towers over the congregation. It's a building to be experienced. I feel so small and insignificant. It's an amazing piece of human achievement.
I head up to the stadium where the Lonely Planet informs me there is a Wednesday market, but it's just an enormous collection of nasty cheap clothes and general tat.
The day is dark and rainy, the first rain since I arrived, but it makes it slightly miserable and damp to wander around sightseeing.
I head to the Duomo to try and get some pictures, but sulk away after seeing any chance of getting a decent shot is destroyed by the hoards of oriental tourists all obediently following upheld umbrellas.
It's too misty to climb the bell tower (thank heaven) so I decide on the shrine of Santa Caterina. Although one of Italy's favourite saints it's clearly not with the tourists today and I have the place to myself.
As I enter the chapel I am stopped dead in my tracks and my eyes brim with the kind of tears that absolute beauty brings. I am moved to my core and I stand open mouthed gazing at my surroundings. It's a small chapel covered with beautiful frescoes and artwork. My brains first impression is of colour; gold and blue. I have an overwhelming feeling of goodness, serenity and grace. I get on my knees in front of the altar, it seems the only thing to do. I leave with not so much an image, but a feeling. Reassured? Protected? The cynic in me notes the gift shop on the way out.
I continue up the hill to San Domenico - Santa Caterina's church. Although the body of Caterina is in Rome, in line with the practice of preserving relics of the dead, her head is in a tabernacle above the altar. Not much thanks for flogging yourself.
I spend an age looking for one of the restaurant's recommended in LP, but it's like trying to find Platform nine and three quarters and I settle on somewhere nearer to my B&B. Although I order my first glass of Chianti I'm paranoid I can hear Dolores laughing that it will trigger a migraine and I leave it after a couple of sips.
I finally make it into the Cathedral in the afternoon. It truly is the most amazing piece of architecture I have ever seen. It overwhelms the senses once inside and it's impossible to take in every detail. It's built from black and white striped marble - a huge stick of godly rock. Every available surface is used - mosaics on the floors, pictures on the walls and ceilings, gold leaf, cherubs, angels, gargoyles, lions, saints, bishops, Christ, Mary and an amazing Gothic pulpit which towers over the congregation. It's a building to be experienced. I feel so small and insignificant. It's an amazing piece of human achievement.
By now it's after five o'clock and Dolores is whinging that it's been a long day. She doesn't want to go out again, especially as it's now dark as well as cold. I am frustrated to the point of tears that we have failed to eat out on our mini-break, but all the same I do as she asks and we are back in our room eating pizza by seven.
Katy
(M is for Multiply - Jamie Liddel, here's to going under with a smile)
