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 is awash in marble and frescoes. After sitting for awhile in order to take in the beautiful atmosphere, we follow a sign to the shroud exhibit. Was this the shroud?

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

This church provides full “true” copies of the shroud. There are explanations in Italian that I am sure are interesting if google translate worked with the glare on the glass. Instead, I nod and smile at the lady who points and tells me all about the Holy Shroud, also in Italian. Despite listening intently, I determine that we will not find the shroud here. But we did find our first friendly faces in Turin. That is 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 is the Cathedral of Saint John the Baptist. This large church opens into the cappella inside the royal palace. Each alcove contains priceless works of art. Marble columns rise into the sky. It is impressive.

I find my favorite religious artist Ferrari has a chapel in this Duomo. I swoon over the elaborate gilded altarpiece. A small gift shop sells religious items including images of the shroud. I buy a small cheap ring with the face of Jesus (shroud image). It is a perfect, cheesy souvenir.

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

I linger in each chapel. The larger areas of the church are more crowded. My peace is broken as children argue with their parents. One crashes behind a barrier and pouts in hiding until a security guard chases him away. The parents whisper fervently, but seem unable or unwilling to control their children. I move on.

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

Under a simple cloth covering beneath a bed of thorns, the shroud lays in a covered cask within a climate sealed glass room. A copy of the famous face is enlarged above. Candles burn to the side of the chapel. It is a place of reverence and fascination. It is clear who has come to worship and who has come to satisfy curiosity. For me, it is a little of both.

I feel a bit guilty snapping a few photos with so many people in prayer. So I take my snapshots and then sit amongst them to pray.

Prayer books are open for those in need of comfort. I stop to read the prayers in Italian. I can make out most of the familiar passages. We watch a video about the shroud and eventually say our farewells to the Duomo of St. John.

It is time to leave Turin. The traffic has picked up since we entered town early in the morning. We drive through the square and down the tram tracks to exit town. It doesn’t seem correct, but we follow the locals and the GPS directions. Cars appear out of nowhere. While we wait for a green light at our turn, eight other cars appear around us. They pass us in the median and turn 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 stop in Lesa for a good meal at La Riva. The quaint restaurant on the waterfront has eggplant stuffed pasta that is delicious. Good music, family, and good food. In my opinion, the perfect ending to a day.