Stone upon stone: an Italian sojourn: Heavenly jottings of the Madonnas

Today was a lazy day for us: we did our washing, had a lovely long lunch in our closest town, Asciano (pronounced Ash-ee-ar-no) about three kilometres away, and gave the car and the driver a rest. A lazy and mostly sunny day, which was delightful. We did, though, walk around Asciano a little more than usual, and though, again, the museums were closed we are starting to get a good feel for our ancient rural town. Which, like most places in Italy has been around for so many centuries that its actual origins have been lost in time.

One thing Italians have in common with Sicilians is that they take absolutely no notice of signs they wish to ignore. If there is a No Parking, Tow Away sign in a narrow lane, you can be sure that is usually the very first spot folk will park, even though there is legal parking in many spots close by. They have quite an anarchic attitude to parking prohibitions, so one has to assume that they are never enforced anywhere. Asciano drivers follow the rest of Italy in ignoring these signs.

The town has many faded palazzos so wealthy families from ages past once lived here: though now the population seems less wealthy, and as with most rural towns we have seen, there are now more seniors than young folk. Here, too, the younger ones seem to migrate to the cities. These palazzos now, tend to be museums, or administrative buildings for the town, so they still mostly have some purpose and the town is far from dead.

The old Centro has lovely stone remnants from days long past: particularly some charming fountains and wells around different sections of town.

Again, there are many churches, bedecked with museum quality art and sculpture of the finest kind so they, themselves, could be museums, many of them. Italians live with this rich heritage every day of their lives in almost every town we have visited: I wonder do they even see it anymore; or do they treat it like No Parking signs: they know its there but pay their amazing history little heed.

An old convent, through an arch, now has a crumbling facade and has seen better days, but behind the courtyard its bones have been rejuvenated and turned into traditional apartments. We saw one advertised for sale and it is small, but charming, inside. Lovely to see the old becoming used again: even though they don't bother to smooth off its rough skin.

In a niche overlooking the convent courtyard is an ancient Madonna, standing still, so protectively. And, on a corner along Corso Giacomo Matteotti, a softly painted Madonna and Child, still watch gently over the townsfolk.

But, I do wonder if the Madonnas are keeping tabs on those who park illegally, and whether they are jotting that down in heavenly notes, to be paid for in the hereafter.