You can’t visit Turin without wondering about the mysterious shroud of Turin. The shroud first appeared in France in the 1300’s and was claimed to be the shroud that wrapped the body of Jesus after his crucifixion. While a bishop in the late 1300’s and dozens of scientists have called it a fake, the faithful have considered it a holy relic from its first appearance.

The shroud was purchased by the Savoys in the mid-1400’s and was moved to Turin in the mid-1500’s. For centuries the shroud sat in a marble cask in the Savoy chapel under the golden sun. Over the years historians and religious leaders have tested and argued and tested some more. Some claim the shroud was painted. Some claim it was sweat or blood that made the famous impressions.

We knew the shroud had been moved, but to which chapel? We first visited the Chiesa di San Lorenzo. The small church was awash in marble and frescoes. After sitting for awhile in order to take in the beautiful atmosphere, we followed a sign to the shroud exhibit. Was this the shroud?

My brother followed a priest into the sacristy, but was diverted by a parishioner with a friendly smile. No entry for guests.

This church provided full “true” copies of the shroud. There were explanations in Italian that I am sure were interesting if google translate would have worked with the glare on the glass. Instead, I nodded and smiled at the lady who pointed and told me all about the Holy Shroud, also in Italian. Despite listening intently,I determined that we would not find the shroud here. But we did find our first friendly faces in Turin. That was a welcome development. Whether the shroud is real or not, I can’t say. I can say it is clearly real to the adorable ladies who took the time to share with us….even if I only understood every fourth word.

Our last stop was the Cathedral of Saint John the Baptist. This large church opened into the cappella inside the royal palace. Each alcove contained priceless works of art. Marble columns rose into the sky. It was impressive.

I found my favorite religious artist Ferrari had a chapel in this Duomo. I swooned over the elaborate gilded altarpiece. A small gift shop sold religious items including images of the shroud. I bought a small cheap ring with the face of Jesus (shroud image). It was a perfect, cheesy souvenir.

Nearby was the chapel of John the Baptist. A small glass case was said to hold a bone fragment of the martyr. John loomed large in a painting above the relic. He pointed to the sky, victorious. His mother looked down approvingly from the heavens.

I lingered in each chapel. The larger areas of the church were more crowded. My peace was broken as children argued with their parents. One crashed behind a barrier and pouted in hiding until a security guard chased him away. The parents whispered fervently, but seemed unable or unwilling to control their children. I moved on.

At last, we arrived before the chapel of the Holy Shroud. A small group of worshippers sat in silent prayer. Behind the chapel a golden altar rose in front of the windows of the royal chapel above.

Under a simple cloth covering beneath a bed of thorns, the shroud lay in a covered cask within a climate sealed glass room. A copy of the famous face was enlarged above. Candles burned to the side of the chapel. It was a place of reverence and fascination. It was clear who had come to worship and who had come to satisfy curiosity.

I felt a bit guilty snapping a few photos with so many people in prayer. So I took my snapshots and then sat amongst them to pray.

Prayer books were open for those in need of comfort. I stopped to read the prayers in Italian. I could make out most of the familiar passages. We watched a video about the shroud and eventually said our farewells to the Duomo of St. John.

It was time to leave Turin. The traffic had picked up since we entered town early in the morning. We drove through the square and down the tram tracks to exit town. It didn’t seem correct, but we followed the locals and the GPS directions. Cars appeared out of nowhere. While we waited for a green light at our turn, eight other cars appeared around us. They passed us in the median and turned directly into our path to beat us onto the one lane ahead. To say Italian drivers are aggressive is an understatement.

At the end of a long day and a long drive on the autostrada, we stopped in Lesa for a good meal at La Riva. The quaint restaurant on the waterfront had eggplant stuffed pasta that was delicious. Good music, family, and good food. In my opinion, the perfect ending to a day.