Crema is a relatively small town that is about a half hour south of us. We have wanted to go there, but just recently actually tried, got lost (the GPS took us back to Milano) the first time, but we finally made it.
We put the address, we found on line, of this church in Crema in the TomTom. Parking was relatively easy, for Italy. This church was about a kilometer out of town.
According to this sign, at the back of the church, where we parked, this is the basilica of Santa Maria della Croce, from the 1400s.
It was sort of a church in the round, with the (new) altar in the center and the pews all around.
We were the only ones there, except for a little old lady, who said she lives there but was from Veneto (Venice area), who was very interested in learning all about us and telling us all about the church. She was a little strange. I asked her how I could play the organ.
The old pipe organ was above a side door. The iron spiral staircase leading up to the organ loft was locked with an ancient iron padlock. She said I could go to the priest's house, which she pointed out to me, but it was hot outside and I didn't want to make the effort.
Especially after I saw the electronic organ on the other side of the church near what used to be the high altar. I asked her if the old organ worked, and she said they use it on Sundays, but I suspect it is in poor shape--most of them are.
There was a Casio keyboard opposite the electronic, so I suspect they do have music in this church, maybe even rock music.
But under the high altar was another altar, below ground level,
And in it was an interesting display of the Madonna appearing to some poor soul whose right hand had been cut off...
apparently by a sword. We didn't learn the story, even the little old lady wasn't sure of it (maybe she told us in her Ventian dialect), but I am sure it was important, because a pope had been in this very church and prayed to this Madonna, as can be seen from the photograph to the left of the display above. I suppose many people come to this church to pray to her.
There was this pix of the nativity, with a fairly muscular baby. Probably the artist never saw a newborn up close and personal, or maybe they look like this in the 1500s, when this was painted.
On one end of the church were the confessionals. I expected the sign to start flashing.
And this almost life size Jesus down from the cross in all his gory. Then we drove into town, about a kilometer away (The church was out in the farm area.)
where we parked at this monastery, where they were having a Rotary Club convention, so it wasn't open for visiting.
This sign shows the size of a room compared with the rest of the friary, as the English part of the sign calls it.
We walked over to the duomo, to the right, in the main piazza. The city hall is at the end.
In the duomo, near the high altar, was this large painting of Jesus on the cross, with a naked angel flying through the air. It is possible that the dark colored modesty cover was added later.
These young men were being talked to around the main altar by a priest. They didn't appear to be tourists and I didn't try to overhear the discussion. Maybe he was trying to convince them to start seminary to become priests. There aren't many boys who are interested these days, many of the priests come from Africa and other impoverished places.
Crema has narrow streets in the area around the duomo, as most old Italian cities do.
We didn't see any foreign tourists, that we could identify. This city is off the beaten path. These people were just locals out for a Saturday afternoon shopping trip.
One lady had her cane (dogs) out, who were interested in something in the shop. I asked her what kind of dogs they were. She said they are Italian greyhounds, probably a miniature breed.
Along the way back to the car there were many old buildings with high walls, probably palaces or homes for wealthy people (some even had signs saying who lived there in the 1600s, etc.), with lovely, but crumbling decorations.
We came quickly back to our apartment, made in the 1970s, to change clothes to go to a baptism. I watered our flowers, on the balcony, from which you can see the street below. The red Toyota Yaris is that of the APs. All of the other mission cars are white, grey or silver. I don't know why they got a red one. When the Shumakers were leaving, I suggested, in front of the APs, that they take the red car, so the APs could have a humbler color car, but I could quickly tell that wouldn't go over--they really like their red car. After all, they are still competitive boys at heart.
At the beginning of summer I bought a little basil plant for 99 cents, had it in my office window for many weeks and then transplanted it outside on the balcony, where it has flourished. I pick leaves quite often to cook with or garnish dishes, as do Italians. Yesterday I made pesto sauce in a little ceramic mortar and pestle I bought for €3 at a second hand store, for pasta, which turned out too strong. (Grind fresh basil leaves, toasted pine nuts, olive oil, garlic.) In fact, I put an entire clove of garlic in it, so when I hugged the Thompsons goodbye they certainly got the garlic treatment. Not that I have learned to like garlic, but it is okay in some things, like pesto.
The office anziani had taught the husband of a member, and they baptized him on Saturday. She has been in Italy for a long time and speaks good Italian. He came from the Philippines 3 years ago and still does not speak Italian, although he speaks okay English, in which they taught him. They asked me to play the piano, which I did. The family lives in Lodi, where the anziani have been asked to go, but the church there does not have a baptismal font, so they had the baptism in the Navagli (our) ward building, but no one from their branch came because it is too far, especially if you don't have a car.
Italians like to use "skeleton" keys to lock things, and even new buildings have them.
This is one of our internal doors. Today we had two sorelle go into their bathroom together (why?), lock the door, and not know how to get out. So, in desperation, one of them wrapped her foot in a towel (to protect it, I suppose) and kicked the glass out of the door. The glass broke and cut her leg so that it was bleeding a lot. They called the ambulance and went to the hospital, and she got 70 stitches. How's that for wounds for a battle with a door that you would be embarrassed to report.
Speaking of sorelle, we currently have an epidemic of head lice amongst the sister missionaries. They have recently been forbidden to hug each other, or others, especially children. They must comb each other's hair, and all must treat their hair with expensive medicine, for which I reimburse them. They aren't supposed to inform the anziani, and if any of them get it, that should be punishment enough. The Lodi sorelle have them too. Lodi is where our two office anziani go after 5 pm, and they are in touch (hopefully not literally) with the sorelle, so one of them flipped out on hearing the news (office anziani know everything), and had Sorella Hoopes go through his hair today. She didn't find anything, yet. She had me go through her hair, and I didn't find any either.
We were asked to wax our mission car, so yesterday morning we did, after washing it. I was down on my haunches applying wax (Myrna was wiping it off) and I toppled over, badly skinning my elbow, which bled on my clothes, but I needed no stitches (just bandaids). Sorella Hoopes has been going to physical therapy every week and doing exercises twice a day for her tendinitis. Wiping wax from the car was, of course, anti-therapeutic. She is using the jug of ibuprofin that Mark brought us, which is expensive to buy (like 70 cents a tablet) in Italy. Last evening we went to Decathalon and bought her a large stretchy rubber band, prescribed by the therapist, which she hangs on a door knob and pulls.
Speaking of therapy, a senior couple from Germany, who took the Hawkins' place (although both are counselors, whereas Elder Hawkins was an accountant and helped me) visited on Wed, and we went to dinner with them and the Allens.
Elder and Sister Peery, counseled at BYU and now counsel missionaries in about 14 missions, including ours. They said our mission has fewer crazies than many, but we have our share. They don't believe in essential oils, in fact, she said they can be dangerous. She said if one has problems taking psychotrophic drugs, one could take 6 capsules of fish oil, divided morning and night, which seemed reasonable to help with the drugs. They also agree that missionaries with mental health problems should not be sent to foreign countries--there are too many problems and many of them go home and feel more depressed because they couldn't be successful missionaries. The Perrys were very nice and seemed like we had known them from before. When we asked if hearing these problems all day does not make them depressed, and he said he has had counseling for that.
He had a Milanese, which, after it went to Austria, became weinersnitzel, or how ever you spell it. It is veal and they like to leave the bone handle in it, but it is just breaded and fried in butter.
Myrna had the famous saffron risotto, although this had a cuore (heart) of gorgonzola cheese, which she didn't particularly like.
I had a pasta with cheese sauce, to which I added more grated Parmesian, and some kind of meat, it was pretty good.
Sorella Allen mistakenly ordered this, but she ate the pasta and he ate the sea creatures.
We didn't actually go out for gelato, because they served us some at the restaurant, but my sister Jan asked me to take a pix of a gelato bar. What you see is just half the flavors they were offering that day.
We have a newsletter, called "Milano Moments." Missionaries are encouraged to email in submissions. As I was finishing this post, an email came in and this was a submission from a dear sorella, Raquel Marie Stevens.
Like probably most of you, one of the greatest lessons I have learned on the mission has been about Christ, especially as The Light of the World. The more I have studied this and testified of him the more I have realized that not only is He the light of the world but He is the light of OUR, individual worlds.
There have been moments on the mission when I have felt and seen in others the dark days that life can bring. This darkness can be disorienting, frustrating and discouraging, but if there is even a bit of light, hope can always be found. This light is Jesus Christ and the more I have understood how much of a light He is in my life, the more I have been able to share this with others. That is our mission. To bring the light that is Christ to other people and help them use this light to get out of their darkness. I have been blessed to see Christ be the light and joy in my life and so many others lives. I am so grateful for my light,my redeemer, my friend, Jesus Christ.
It was a lovely Saturday, P-day, to end another week in hot (think quasi hades--what will July and August be like?) paradise.
Ciao for now.
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