Two chance encounters, one yesterday and one this morning.

Both prove utterly delightful, each in their own peculiar way.

In the first, a couple from Pittsburgh get off the Rome train.

Before long, they spot an American by the photos he takes.

It turns out they are on a pilgrimage to a family homestead:

Spoleto, for her; an unheard/unfamiliar town or region, for him.

Each in a day’s journey from Rome to see what they could find.

She carried a photograph; he, a complete set of Italian passports.

Stories shared.  Directions given.  Finally, best wishes extended.

Unknowns encountered on both sides: a chance meeting we keep.

Pozzo della Cava, a nine cave complex, holds archaeological findings from the Etruscan, medieval, and renaissance periods.   

In a foreshortened version of that history, we each find a place to call home:

Works nicely in the guide to the wonders of the Orvieto Duomo.

Over forty items of interest named on the facade alone; I, a few:

A pointless exercise (not to trip): tourists, tourists everywhere!

Being ones, we just enjoy the privileges of our accommodations.

Lovely hotel staff make a dinner reservation for us in the “Caves

of Rope-making(?),” where (needless to say) many would trip.

Prepositions, such trivial-looking words, can make all the difference.

Closed not “on Wednesdays,” as we first thought that she had said.

But closed “after Wednesday,” we now fear she may have said.

There was no doubt, in the least, about the catch in her voice.

Nor any want of feeling in the exchange of Italian cheek kisses.

I have yet to translate the image of a column into a monument to travelers, but the placing of this “Sculpture in the City” couldn’t be more obvious.

Sitting at the base of the ancient Roman road (Via Flaminia Vecchia) on its way out of town, La Colonna del Viaggiatore holds the pride of a perfect placement.

(I have yet to discover who decided, or how, to position new works of art in old urban spaces.  But for a rundown on the ancient Via Flaminia, check here.

[By the by, if you click on the map, you will discover a branch in the road, where the second of the two, a more circuitous route, passed through Spoletium.])

Photos uninspiring.  May the afternoon inside move along Rebecca’s art.  (And it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if it managed somehow to keep the Wi-Fi link intact.)

The Italian musicians in Piazza Garibaldi are singing “Hallelujah.”

We listen from the terrazzo, where life feels grand.  (Hallelujah!)

To get to a string of (modest?) homes, hanging off the mountain side, you have to make your way down a passage (on foot) or up an alley (by well-dented car).

I aim to learn the history of town walls, their purpose and positioning.  One marker refers to “terrace walls” before over-complicating the story.

At least for now, in the course of the day, Rebecca and I fully enjoy the flowers.