Sometimes you encounter a place you can’t wait to share. I was captivated by Orta San Guilio and couldn’t wait to share it with my family. After excitedly sharing the virtues of a visit, we drove over on a bright Monday morning. The destination did not disappoint.

First we trekked up the mountain to visit the sacred Mount of Orta, where a series of small chapels tell the story of Saint Francis of Assisi. My sister in law was captivated by the cemetery and so we took a detour. We visited graves of people who endured years of hardship through two world wars and a fascist regime. My husband decided to find a seat in the shade while we climbed the mountain. It took us awhile, but the rest of eventually made it up the steep incline to begin our pilgrimage.

The frescoes and the carvings are exquisite. My sisters in law were just as captivated by the artwork as I. We oohed and awed over facial expressions and intricate detail. I had to laugh because apparently last time I was here, I went out of order. The chapels make much more sense when you see them in chronological order.

After walking to every chapel and then three churches, we worked up quite an appetite. We found a restaurant, but the school was on lunch break. We were entertained by school children running in an out of the nearby store buying endless candy and soda. I’m pretty sure that was not a teacher or parent sanctioned lunch. But the shopkeeper was doing a great business.

After I had a wonderful lunch of saffron and truffle pasta, we boarded a boat to the basilica. The ancient structure is amazing. The frescoes could have been painted yesterday instead of centuries ago. There were far fewer people this time and we were able to linger over paintings of the saints. I fell deeper in love with Orta San Giulio.

In the crypt, the body of Saint Guilio layed where he has been for centuries in his glass coffin. The dark crypt was illuminated by dozens of candles and a brightly painted ceiling, but it was still a little creepy. It was also peaceful. You feel connected in time to an ancient tradition of faith.

After the basilica, we took the silent walk around the convent grounds. Signs extolled the virtues of silence and requested that guests stroll in quiet contemplation. We were only marginally successful.

After a day of holy landmarks, fresh pasta, and boat rides we opted for retail therapy. A giant shoe store more than fit the bill. I would be hard pressed to think of any store that had more shoes. But they also had clothes and purses, and luggage. Our kind of place.

It was late when we headed home, so we stopped in Arona for appertivi and dinner. We laughed and told stories. We sipped my sister in laws mystery drink and tried to place the flavors. She thought it tasted like horse liniment smelled. I thought of a garden right after a light rain. My brother said a barn. Everyone laughed at her overly earthy choice.

As we headed home, the moon was rising over the lake. The rock of Angeri was lit up like a beacon. My heart was full. I shared a place I love with others who appreciated it as much as I do. Connection and family.