La via diritta era smarrita
“The direct way is lost,” is in the first stanza of Dante’s Divina Commedia, which I was required to memorize in Italian 101 fifty-six years ago.
That line came to mind the other day, as we attempted to follow the Via Francigena, an ancient pilgrimage route from Canterbury, England, to the Vatican. I have long been interested in the pilgrimage experience, most famously the Camino de Santiago in France and Spain, and have always been puzzled by people who describe themselves as “spiritual,” and especially, how a very long walk would contribute to that. But as this route went straight through the middle of Aosta, where were staying in the Italian Alps, it was irresistible. Last year, we had done a bit of the Umbrian leg and found it a pleasant walk through the countryside. It was the Easter season, so a few of our fellow walkers had palms stuck into their backpacks, but other than that, there was no obvious sense of it being in any way a religious experience.
This time was a more Dantesque experience, as we got more and more lost and confused as we tried to follow the route. Not helping was being in the middle of a record-breaking European heatwave, which raised the stakes. Every wrong turn meant more steps in the scalding sun to get back on the via diritta. And unlike the very clearly-marked Umbrian leg, the markers were somewhat lacking, leaving us possibly lost or definitely lost for much of the time.
It turns out, this was our third walk in as many days since arriving in Aosta. Day one, we took a cable car up to the town of Pila, and then hiked three hours up to an actual Alpine lake, which reflected a nearby mini-glacier.
We were about 8000 feet up, but don’t get too impressed, as we were lapped by a family that included two kids, ages six and four.
The next day, we took two busses to get to Gran Paradiso National Park, and hiked up to a beautiful waterfall. Truth be told, I’m not much of a hiker; I’d prefer a three-hour hike through Manhattan any day. But if we do Italy for me, and hiking for Ben, that’s win-win, and maybe I’m even coming out ahead in the bargain.
So back to our pilgrimage. Was it a spiritual experience? I think one would need to do it for days, not hours, to have spirituality kick in. Walking seven plus miles in the blistering heat was no picnic, especially during the long stretches when we had no idea where we were or where we were headed. But we had hope that there would be a signpost around the next corner, and there usually was. We experienced kindness from a man with whom we never really spoke but who guided us to the right bus to get back to town, and made sure it waited for us. We had charity from the bus driver who let us ride for free when Ben’s tap-to-pay with his phone didn’t work. And we had faith that somehow, it would all work out, and it did.
So maybe the direct way was not lost, just a bit obscured, and we ultimately found our way, safe and sound. Is that what spirituality is, after all?
Gigi's Italia 