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AVING SUFFERED A DELUGE
of rain in Assisi and pin-balled through hordes
of people in Siena, I found myself reaching the
limits of my normally insatiable cultural
appetite. It was a holiday in Italy in June, and
Umbrian friends had insisted I join them on one
last excursion that was ‘off the beaten track’ near
Orvieto, in the province of Viterbo. As we
twisted round dizzying bends on the fi nal
approach, the latent teenager in me grumbled:
‘Th is had better be good.’
I was lead to a vantage point. What I saw
demanded a music score heavy with crescendo:
it was a small cluster of pale medieval houses
poised upon a jutting nub of volcanic tuff ; a vast
valley spouting a fl oating walled village, 1,400ft
high, that loomed like a giant, resilient sandcastle
after the water’s retreat. My inner child was
utterly enchanted; my well-travelled adult self
was overwhelmed. Everyone remembers their
fi rst encounter with Civita di Bagnoregio.
Th e village sits on an unforgiving base of
clay, and two major earthquakes, persistent
winds and rain erosion have sculpted its
current silhouette and carved its isolation.
Founded over 2,500 years ago by the Etruscans,
Civita was once a thriving community
capitalising on its location on the main road to
the north from Rome. It was the birthplace of
Franciscan St Bonaventure – who died in 1274
– whose home, like so many others, has long
since tumbled into the valley.
An earthquake in 1695 caused the collapsing
of the natural bridge to what is currently
Bagnoregio, forcing the bishop and most of
Civita’s inhabitants to abandon it. Today, a
narrow footbridge (inaugurated in 1965) acts as
an umbilical cord connecting the remaining
10 permanent residents to land. It’s a steep
climb at times – and vertigo-inducing – but the
supply-laden Vespa passed us with seasoned
ease. Before the Vespa and daily visits from a
motorised cart, mules ferried goods and people
up winding tracks.
Passing under the Etruscan-cut archway
embellished with 12th-century lion sculptures,
I was immediately enveloped by a curiously
calm and dignifi ed atmosphere. Golden-hued
stone buildings lined narrow walkways; some
had balconies and outside steps – proff erli,
which are typical of medieval architecture in
Viterbo – adorned with cheerful fl owerpots,
vines and several dozing cats. Every corner was
seductively photogenic.
PRIVATESCAPE
Eighty-One
Previous page: two
earthquakes, persistent
wind and rain
have sculpted Civita’s
striking silhouette.
This page: cheerful
fl ower pots, cats and vines
adorn golden-coloured
stone buildings