Assisi was not only the most beautiful hilltown I've seen, but obviously the most meaningful. Seeing the church where St. Francis was chained after denying his father's business, his tomb, the three churches (built one on top of another) dedicated to him, and even the Church of St. Clare with its rose and white marble--it amounted to the best trip I've taken, except maybe for Elba, despite the bad weather and, oh yeah, the fact that outside Clare's church I fell and busted my hips and elbow and very nearly smashed my camera.
But I didn't smash my camera, or my face, and my arm feels (four days later) almost like brand new! My camera died halfway through the day, though.
Like I said, despite the foibles, it was a magical day. I like to think Clare and Francesco were palying little jokes on me, telling me to pay more attention to the present moment and place. And it's true, that without my camera and with the constant pain in my arm, I really saw Assisi through my eyes; not the eyes of my blog or my camera or my writer's mind, but with Katie's eyes, which still stung in embarrassment from the fall outside the church.
Yeah, this is where I ate it. It hurt, too. I didn't get up for at least two minutes.
"No, I just want to stay down for a little bit."
I was actually worried I had broken my arm.
"Nope, not ready yet..."
But eventually I did get up, and saw Assisi, and it was worth it in the end.