Returning home from a 4 day coach trip to San Giovanni Rotonda in Puglia, Italy. This is right around the Achilles tendon of the Italian boot, so to speak..for those of us who aren't geographically savvy. It was a wonderfully spiritual experience to visit the sacred sanctuary of this miraculous Saint. Padre Pio was known for his endlessly bleeding hands which blessed the sick. There have been hundreds of recorded, documented official medical miracles, similar to Saint Bernadette's miracles of Lourdes, France. He was the latest named Saint of our times prior to the canonization of Mother Theresa. In this beautiful town in Puglia, I attended Easter mass at Padre Pio's church among thousands of others. It was really lovely. (Wow, did I just use that word? That is not one of my usuals, I always thought of it as a cute, little old lady word ;)
Well, for the record, I won't be taking anymore coach tours, that is for-fucking-sure (ok...that is one of my usuals ;) My ass hurts, my back hurts, my head hurts from listening to the country folk bitch about EVERYTHING! This is not home sickness, this is straight-up frustration! I would have stayed back but in order to be with my beau, I had to take part in the tour portion of the pilgrimage because he is the tour operator and I love him. The sacrifice of already being away from my family and home, lonely, a little sad, overwhelmed, exhausted and completely at my wit's end was apparently not enough. What we do for love is stupid sometimes because although visiting the shrine and tomb of an incredible soul...I had to endure some serious shit. Did I mention the relentless umbilical cord that can't be cut between an Italian man and his home, his roots, his blood? Or the proverbial tit? It is due time to close this session.
A domani ;)
Oh..and by the way...while I was walking..carefully down the stairs to the bathroom of Padre Pio's gigantic church, an older lady lost her step, grabbed onto me and took me down with her. My entire left side is now black and blue from my recent fall and my right side is now bloody and scraped up too. I managed to act as a buffer for the poor little old woman but she still spent Easter in the hospital. I think I will shampoo myself with the holy water from the shrine, 2 big, painful spills in one week...WTF?
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