TESSERAE - 4 - Spoleto, Umbria

SPOLETO

I am standing in the middle of a major road, the SS3, five hundred metres from the mouth of the tunnel under the Castle at Spoleto.  A set of traffic lights has just turned red and nothing appears to be coming toward me.  I seize the opportunity to walk the concrete ribbon and snatch a photo of the castle from a rare standpoint.

I
t’s not the greatest view, but it is not a conventional one.  The road, a modern carriageway though bearing the name of the ancient Via Flaminia, burrows into the hill above the dry Tessino river bed, shafting straight under the fourteenth century Rocca (castle). 

It is eerily quiet.  The light still red, nothing oncoming, I sneak forward to improve the view.   A cowled figure, angular, grey, fleeting, seems to beckon me toward the mouth of the tunnel.  He calls out, but I cannot catch the words in the silence, the idle engines blurring the edges of the call.  I step forward, the road inviting me under the hill, and like a fox I am there, sniffing the dark, padding forward into the gloom.

A scent of sweat and musky blanket precedes me; a stair opens into the rock and the pungency of wool and rope entices me upwards.  The stairs are narrow, dank and slippery, but I can hear the slap of leather sandal on stone above me, and then I am in a cave, a room, a glorious opening, with angels spinning round me in a canopy of blue.  God himself kneels, not for me, of course, but to bless the virgin, his right hand held upright with fingers ranged in benediction,. His left hand gently lowering a golden crown, the very image of his own, onto the virgin’s brow.  His hair and beard, uniformly white but combed and trimmed, connects the jewelled red mitre with the jewelled red coat, his cuffs adorned with gold and precious stones.  His shoulders are kept warm by a green mantle, itself held in place by a golden chain.  The girl is decked in finery beyond the reach of mortal purse, her hands in prayer to beg pardon for her unworthiness.  Gold, pearls, opals, topaz, amethyst – the sheen of silk and lace glittering into the golden sun behind.

The freshness of the paint overcomes me, but Filippo steadies my arm and leads me up the wooden scaffolds, past guttering wicks, and into an enclosed garden, with a tiled patio.  A golden haired angel in a red robe kneels before a doorway, a white lily in the left hand.  From a cloud above a white haired and bearded figure lasers down a message that strikes through a grille and pierces the shoulder of a delicate girl in red and white who sits demurely with her fingers intertwined in shy confusion.  It is the remarkable announcement of an imminent birth that prefigures ultrasound by two millennia. 

We pass through into the crowd, and move past the priest, the mourners and the praying women; past the ashen faced corpse with her delicate hands clasped above a rich orange coverlet; I pass Filippo himself with his angelic son Filippino then I pass the green hills and rocky mounts,

until I stand behind a young woman kneeling before her infant, which lies passively on a cloth on the stony floor, his father humbly musing at his head, a cow and a donkey gently smiling down from behind wicker hurdles. 

I step gingerly on, past a wooden saddle and through an arch in the crumbling wall.  The path leads back down, into a cave, down the slippery steps and I find myself back in the tunnel, hurrying to my car. 

I didn’t notice that the lights had changed.

Umbria III - The Valnerina

The Heart of Italy – Part III



The Valnerina - the green heart of Italy


Question:  What do New York, Amsterdam, Barcelona and Sant’Anatolia di Narco have in common?

Answer:  Cannabis.

Er?

Cannabis Sativa.  Hemp.  All four places have Hemp Museums.

Of course…….

Sant’Anatolia di Narco is a village of some 600 inhabitants which is situated at 328 metres above sea level about half way up the Valnerina, or the Valley of the River Nera.  Thanks to a post-97 earthquake bypass operation it is also on the route from Spoleto to Norcia, but that’s another story.  The origins of the village go back to the 8^th century BC, but most of what you see today is medieval or later.  Saint Anatolia was a young Roman lady executed for her Christian beliefs in the year 253. 

The name Narco, but the way, has nothing to do with narcotics.  It may derive from a French family who once dominated the area, or from a corruption of the river’s name, or from the ancient people the Sabini Naharci.  It is not Saint Anatolia of the Narcotics.

A cart full of hemp 

The museum, proper name Museo della Canapa (Hemp Museum), is housed in the former Town Hall, tucked into the medieval core of the village next to the Church of Sant’Anatolia.  It is one branch of the Valnerina Ecomuseum and tells the story of the production and uses of hemp, principally in textiles and ropes.  The name Canapine which features in some villages in the region and which is applied also to the banks of the River Nera, means “hemp lands” and is testimony to the importance given to the cultivation of this plant and its uses in the past.  In a series of rooms, you can follow the story of this valuable plant, from retting, through braking, to carding, spinning, warping and weaving.  At the end of your visit you see an eighteenth century loom which produced household fabrics for the Santucci family until the 1950s.  It is both fascinating and beautifully presented.

We stay in the ex-convent of Santa Croce (www.conventodisantacroce.com) which was once the home of Franciscan Friars and was built in the thirteenth century, just outside the town walls.  It is a peaceful and very comfortable place, with excellent food and very friendly service.  The walls and ceilings display remnants of religious frescoes, and it is said that the vivid colours and creative designs may have been inspired by a particular plant that grew in the monastery garden; a plant which is now remembered in the nearby museum. 

I don’t believe it!

The Valnerina, one of the most beautiful valleys in the heart of Italy, is peppered with villages, castles and religious houses, from Oratories, such as that of Santa Maria delle Grazie at Sant’Anatolia, to the gracious independence of the Abbey of San Pietro in Valle.  On the way you pass, or stop to dine in, the village of Scheggino, which clings to the left bank of the Nera and steeply rises from it in winding, stepped alleys.  The Osteria Baciafemmine (www.osteriabaciafemmine.it) which occupies a connected series of stables and cellars, is well worth stopping for, but if it is a combination of the de luxe and spiritual isolation you seek you must make a detour to l’Abbazia di San Pietro. 

Osteria Baciafemmine

When I first saw this place it was in a sad state of disrepair; although the church was clad in scaffolding, the place was deserted and closed up.  Nevertheless I was struck by its harmonious structure and by the stunning setting, surrounded by wooded hillsides but with a view down the valley into a shining distance of interwoven blue and gold.

L'Abbazia di San Pietro in Valle


Now, as well as being able to study the twelfth century frescoes in the nave, particularly those that tell stories from the Old Testament, you can stay in one of the suites that have been immaculately remodelled within the Benedictine Monastery (http://www.sanpietroinvalle.com/index.php).  If you do so, you can take breakfast in the refectory, or in the cloisters.  And without walking more than a few paces through the garden, you dine at the Ristorante Hora Media.  Just like the monks in olden times!  In fact you could bring your colleagues for a weekend of team building, with rafting, caving, climbing and a medieval banquet; or you could come alone for spiritual peace, a sauna and some fire-walking.  This place has it all!



The frescoed apse of the church of San Pietro in Valle

We move on, down the valley, going with the flow of traffic toward Terni.  But there is just time to admire the spectacular Cascata delle Marmore, one of the natural wonders of Italy.  In the unspoilt valley, where trees grow miraculously from the vertical cliffs, and a perpetual stream launches itself into 165 metres of air, spraying the ferns and rocks to create mist and rainbow effects with the delicate music of droplets splitting into spray.



La Cascata delle Marmore - about twenty years ago


Or so it was.

The waterfalls have been Disneyfied!  A vast car park means that you have to queue for tickets to gain admission to the spectacle.  And you have to be there at the right time, because they turn it off in the afternoon and at night to pump the water back up, so that now, instead of a gentle splashing you will hear a siren blast and then a furious roar, as tonnes of water are released to crash violently to the valley floor, smashing their atoms as they hit the three rocky levels on the way down.

OK, so it never was natural….. it was actually the engineering brainchild of a roman consul in the third century BC and it has been reworked several times in the fifteenth and eighteenth centuries before now.

But when we passed by some twenty years ago, it really did seem an awful lot more natural!  Now, to return to the metaphor of the heart, a pacemaker has been fitted, the arteries have been cleaned out, the valves repaired, and the beating heart of Italy is (almost) as good as new.

Ah well!  Change is not always for the worse!

The cloister of San Pietro in Valley - tables for breakfast!

A night in Umbria

COUNTRY Resort Santa Croce

A Night with the Friars

“They say,” our host, Annalisa, gestures in assurance that she did not invent this, “that the Friars grew a certain herb in their garden, which may account for the vibrant colours in their frescos.”

Surprisingly, the tiny (600 inhabitant) town of Sant’Anatolia di Narco has a Hemp Museum, which is not something you might expect outside of Amsterdam, and this makes me wonder whether Annalisa’s story has foundation.  Cannabis Sativa, or Indian Hemp, was cultivated throughout Umbria until the middle of the last century.  However the use of hemp that the museum commemorates is that of making cloth.  Did the Franciscans really spend their time painting ceilings and walls under the influence of weed?

I think it unlikely, though it would make an interesting Art History project!  The convent had its origins, outside the fortified city walls, in the thirteenth century and then took its current form in 1610 when it became occupied by Franciscans.  In recent years, although still owned by the Diocese, it has had new life breathed into it as an atmospheric hotel, beautifully presented and lovingly maintained by Annalisa, her daughter Luana and her partner Paolo. The warmth of their hospitality and the still serenity of the structure give no impression of a hippie colony, although a glass of Campari at the bar does no harm after a busy day sightseeing!

Sant’Anatolia is one of several villages in the Nera valley.  Its position is perfect for exploring the green heart of Italy, being only 10 kilometres from Spoleto (via a useful tunnel) and less than an hour from Assisi.  It is also close to the gastronomic, medieval town of Norcia, the wilds of the Monti Sibillini National Park and the power of the Marmore waterfalls (much more exciting than you would think).  What’s more there’s paragliding from the Great Plain of Castelluccio or canoeing or rafting on the Nera.

After a day’s excursion, we retire to our room, named after Fra Eutizio, a character from I Promessi Sposi, and relax in its cool tranquillity.  Then, down the marble stairs, under the frescoed ceilings showing the life of Giovanni da Capestrano, and into the refectory, where Annalisa revives us with her cooking, specialising in using local ingredients, while Paolo serves wines from tiny Umbrian estates. 

If the friars lived like this, they had no need of other stimulants!

http://www.conventodisantacroce.com/

Richard Gibbs

October 8^th 2012

This was unsuccessfully entered for the 2012 Guardian Travel Writing Competition (an unusual place to stay), but was not even a runner-up:  probably far too slow to be more than a walk-on part!