If you can't beat 'em, join 'em

Sunday was Dominus Dei, another feast day.  I had heard that the procession in Orvieto is amazing, so Angela, Jeremy, and I loaded into the car and set off. It was a lovely morning, so we opened the sunroof and enjoyed our drive.

Upon our arrival, we discovered that the road into town was chiuso. We had to turn around and find the lower municipal lot that was at the base of the funicular. Uneventful trip up, and after a brisk walk we found ourselves in the Duomo.

Mass over, time for the procession! We snagged a spot with a decent view at the top of the steps, from which we would be able to see everyone leaving. And out they came. One group after another. After another. After another. There was a FULL HOUR of parade that filed out. 

Goodness! Time for a coffee and small snack before heading back to Todi, yes? We all agreed that it was a great idea, so we threaded our way through the crowd and headed for a bar that I knew about. We were a block away, when I spotted it: a crowd at a barricade standing and watching...the parade.

Hmm.

Regrouping, we decided to walk the longer way around to try to avoid that part of the road that was the parade route. Up one alleyway, across a larger road, through a few archways, down another alleyway (past a bakery, but it wasn't a bar, so no coffee), and...the parade.

We gave up. We decided to stop at the bakery & speak German to each other as we were walking through the streets eating (so that they would think we were rude German tourists eating while walking, rather than rude American tourists). It turned out to be an amazing bakery, so it was worth the stop -- even without the coffee.

Our next goal was the car. Back through the archways, the alleyways, and so on, out to the road leading to the funicular. We made it about, oh, four blocks. And then...the parade coming towards us. We swam like salmon upstream (although, actually, we were going downstream and the others were coming towards us) -- we skulked from one doorway to the next, feeling rather guilty about not being interested enough to watch it (again!) like the rest of the spectators. But when you practically know the participants to the location of their freckles, it's a bit much, you know?

We were stymied: it turned a corner, and we could not cross tactfully at all. We'd just have to be brave and watch the (by now dratted) parade. So we watched. And watched. And watched. We only had about 25 minutes of it. The good news was that this time the bishop noticed (and recognized) Jeremy and waved to him! Very exciting. We saw several other faces from the church in Todi, so we felt right at home. If only we could have got there!

Phew. The last costumed participant and we could cross. Zipping down the road further.

Oh no! Oh yes...the parade....

This time, it was actually going in our direction! So we slithered with the stream this time, using our by-now perfected technique of sliding from doorway to doorway, and only had to make a mad dash across a row of troubadours right in front of the funicular.

I think if we go next year, I'll make sure to have a map of the parade route with me.

Love,

Alexandra