What, exactly, is said about the faith of the people of this land is not clarified. The scene at the Hill of Crosses reminded me very much of Medjugorje – a road lined with cars, tables full of cheap religious trinkets, parents explaining to six-year-olds how depictions of a man being tortured to death 2000 years ago express their deepest beliefs about their place in the universe.
Atop the Hill of Crosses is the lesser-known but to my way of thinking equally inspiring Slab of Plaster Cherubs and Fifty-cent Coins.
