Italy is starting to feel long ago and far away, so it's past time I finished blogging about it. This post is about two Umbrian towns: Todi, which Tyler and I visited together after our night at Titignano, and Spoleto, which I went to see by myself on Tyler's last day of measurements in Perugia.
Like Assisi's, Todi's buildings have a remarkably consistent look. Every street in this hilltop town looks much like the one below--i.e., every street is lovely.
Count the arches!
As usual, we found a church tower to climb. The sweep of red roofs in all directions made for beautiful views.
The arches over the doors of the church, like so many in Umbria, were adorned with column after column, each carved in a different intricate pattern.
One of the wonderful things about Italy is that there are drinking fountains everywhere. (All of Germany's decorative fountains have plaques proclaiming them "KEIN TRINKWASSER," and American-style drinking fountains are almost unheard of.) I particularly liked this angry yet helpful duck.
For those interested in sociological aspects of our travels, I photographed this notice board announcing deaths in Todi. Some of them are funeral announcements, some are from families thanking the community for its support in their time of grief, some are memorial notices from societies the deceased belonged to. We saw boards like this one in a few other Umbrian towns, too. I think it's both a nice tradition and a good way to learn some new Italian names.
As you can tell, Todi was very pretty, but not the most stimulating place we visited. The most exciting part of the trip was trying to get home. The train station was at the bottom of the hill, and though there was a bus, we feared that it would get us to the station to late to get tickets. Google told us it would take about 35 minutes to walk down to the station, but not that we would have to walk on the shoulder of a small highway the whole way. When we finally made it to station (with shoes full of plant matter, but otherwise none the worse for wear), the ticket office was closed. A sign informed us that we could buy tickets at a shop on the main square--back up at the top of the hill. Luckily, the conductor sold us tickets on the train with no more reproach than a weary look that clearly said "turisti."
Spoleto's train station is a mere 10-minute walk from its old town, and the slope of the hill it sits on is fairly gentle, so it was the easiest of the hill towns to visit. As you'll see, though, the buildings get cooler the farther up the hill you go. This is a picture of a section of the city wall in which you can see several different building techniques, from several different centuries. The earliest part, the middle-right section where the stones are unshaped, dates from the 1st century BC.
After a lunch of polenta with gorgonzola sauce and roasted vegetables (every bit as delicious as it sounds) I followed the signs for the Roman theater, my first. A church and cloister were built over it some time in the Middle Ages. The church, now an archaeological museum, still stands, taking up about half of the space that used to be the stage.
The back of St. Agatha's Church and the orchestra, with remains of its colorful marble floor still visible.
For a measly two euros I was allowed the clamber all over the benches and run through the tunnels underneath.
A cool column in the yard behind the theater.
The remains of the theater's facade.
I loved the theater, but I was on a quest to find Spoleto's most famous sight, so I soon continued up the hill. Spoleto is just as lovely as Todi, but has a much greater variety of styles.
A house with a fountain built into the facade.
I pulled myself away from churches, piazzas, and interesting twisty streets until I came to a wide promenade encircling the crest of the hill. Only the fortress stands above it, and the whole town is spread out below.
The cathedral, as seen from the promenade.
I followed the promenade around to the back of the hill. With my goal in sight, I went down into this olive grove to get a better look ...
... at the Ponte dei Torri (Bridge of Towers).
View of the bridge from the olive grove. You can only see about 3/4 of its height in this picture. The gorge at the bottom is steep-sided but dry.
The bridge was built in the 13th century, though according to Wikipedia, some scholars think it was built on the remains and to the plan of a much earlier Roman bridge. It connects Spoleto's hilltop to the much higher hill behind the town. The fortress stands above it on the Spoleto side, and a ruined guard tower at the other end.
The bridge is only wide enough for two, maybe three, horses to ride abreast.
View of the bridge and guard tower from the other side.
I spent about an hour walking across the bridge, climbing on the ruins, and gawking at the view from as many angles as possible. Afterward, I still had some time to walk up to the fortress and wander back through the town before my train came.
Wild poppies growing along the road up to the fortress. We were too early to see sunflowers in Italy, but we caught the poppies right at their peak.
Fortress tower and roses
Fortress training yard with Umbrian hills beyond
Flowers growing on the wall above the training yard
I love how you can see the painted ceiling of this covered terrace from below. Quite a few buildings in Florence and around Umbria had top stories like this.
Here is the cathedral and main piazza. The clouds very obligingly made a dramatic backdrop but refrained from soaking me.
The cathedral boasts amazing frescoes by the Florentine painter Filippo Lippi. It is dedicated to Mary, so the fresco at the front depicts important moments from her life: the Annunciation, her death, the Nativity, and her coronation as the Queen of Heaven.
I saw a lot of Annunciations in Italy. I wish I could tell you about all the different formulations of the scene that I observed, but I'll just point out one odd thing about this one: the Holy Ghost is about to strike Mary on the shoulder.
Female prophets, sadly damaged.
I'll leave you with a picture of the floor of the cathedral. At the time I couldn't think where I'd seen something similar, but during our friends' visit last week I realized that it looks rather like the floor of the Aachen Cathedral.
We spend perhaps an inordinate amount of our lives thinking about, preparing, and consuming food. (Evidence here, here, here, and here.) Once, we planned a four-day trip to NYC to visit Laura where we basically ate our way across Manhattan. I felt a little like Pac-Man--eat ALL of the delicious little things in order to get to the next level (borough?).*
Imagine, then, our delight when a friend of the Marosticas who has spent quite a bit of time in Perugia sent us an email indicating that we'd "be about an hour’s drive of a little place called Titignano which serves unbelievable meals prepared in a medieval kitchen using local foods." So, after some logistical difficulties including a missed reservation due to some linguistic troubles and arranging a driver to take us to the place, we made it to Titignano for a Friday night stay. We arrived in the early evening and were stunned by the views of what seems to be the entire Umbrian landscape:
The smile is totally genuine.
This is the main building of the Titignano castle-complex. It's tricky to describe because it's not really a castle, but more like a collection of castle-like buildings that seem to function more-or-less like a castle. The upper floor of this building is the dining room, while the lower floor is a store where they sell all sorts of things that they make themselves. The following pictures are of the dining room itself, with beautiful ceramic tiles adorning the ceiling and a large fireplace.
The rest of the "castle" was beautiful to look at, with a small church,
vineyards (and Lake Corbara in the background),
and a swimming pool.
The food probably merits a blog post of its own, but I'll try to condense it here. It was a twelve-course dinner served in a style that I imagine Italian grandmothers do when they serve their grandchildren: huge platters of food coming at breakneck speed for two-and-a-half hours, telling the diners to mangia! mangia! And mangia we did. Here was our recreation of the menu:
Bruschetta with fresh tomatoes* Melon and prosciutto Cheese and salami Bruschetta with pate Cheese and apple risotto* Tagliatelle all'arrabbiata con bacon (spicy tagliatelle with bacon, which word we don't know in Italian)* Rosemary turkey with mushrooms and wide green beans* Pork with onion relish* (We've titled this dish "mi dispiace" because the server gave me a serving from quite some height above the plate, causing the onion relish to spoil my shirt. She kept saying "mi dispiace" for about 20 minutes.) Grilled eggplant "Spoon-rule" mousse Strawberries Cantucci (an entire basketful. We ate ours and started eying the neighbors'.)
*Indicates the best things we've ever tasted.
As you see from the menu, it was amazing. Four of the dishes stood out in particular, but the whole experience, complete with loud-and-rowdy Italians at the other tables toasting, kissing, and wandering, was phenomenal. So you won't believe me when I tell you that the dinner costs only 15 EUR per person. But it does. Unbelievable, and absolutely memorable.
We stayed the night in Titignano on Friday and wandered around there and in Todi on Saturday, which is detailed elsewhere. On Sunday we took a bus about an hour away to Assisi, the home of everyone's favorite Saint Francis (1182-1226, thanks Danny Boyle). Assisi was beautiful.
This is Rocca Maggiore, a fortress atop the Assisi hills that dates back to the mid-14th century. It was
pretty open for us to wander through and very pink.
At some point in its history, Rocca Maggiore was expanded with a 100+ meter long tunnel and polygonal tower in the northwest corner to strengthen its defenses. The coolest part was walking through the dark, cold, and low-clearance tunnel.
Here is a view of the same tunnel from atop the pyramidal tower at the end of the NW corner. The smoke in the background isn't from the fortress, though we never could pin down what exactly was burning.
This is what Assisi looks like from the hills slightly above it. It is a remarkable city, something like the Marin County of Umbria. It's immaculately groomed and it gets a lot of money from the Catholic church for upkeep. The money seems well used, since the place was pristine. Lots of small streets, all the buildings in a semi-uniform stone facade, and clean.
Even those buildings under renovation were beautifully scaffolded in this steampunk red-and-copper scaffolding.
The rest of the city was dotted with gorgeous churches,
intricately carved doorways,
and fountains.
As any visitor to Assisi would, we were looking for St. Francis' Basilica. (It's huge and easy to find, but we started at the other end of town.) When we saw this we thought perhaps it was it, but it turns out to be the Roman Temple of Minerva, now a Catholic church. Not quite Francis.
On the street called Fontana Bella (beautiful fountain) we saw not only a beautiful fountain,
but doorways flanked by dragon ironwork. I know how I will decorate any future castles that I build: dragons.
After just a little bit more walking we found the Basilica of St. Francis. It is really large and gorgeous. Begun in 1228, it has two chapels, a lower and an upper one, that are both painted with frescoes from several medieval masters. The basilica is an important place to see the progression of Italian art in this period, and it has been a UNESCO World Heritage site since 2000. We couldn't take pictures inside, but the exterior is comparably beautiful.
Behind the chapels is a cloister with this red/white stonework.
I'm not totally certain, but this seems to me a fresco with St. Francis and Jesus both carrying their respective crosses. It's pretty, if a little presumptuous.
My favorite part of St. Francis' Basilica was the bell tower. I've played the carillon at UC Berkeley and listened to many church bells (several from our living room in Aachen). These bells started ringing twice while we were in Assisi, once while we were atop Rocca Maggiore and once while we were right outside the basilica. They seem to freely swing (that is, both the bells and the clappers move, in contrast to the Cal carillon where only the clapper moves), and they swung for a long time. I found the sound so charming I decided to take a movie, mostly for the sound. You may be able to see one of the bells swinging, but the real treat, if you can imagine being there in person, is the chiming of the bells. Wonderful.
As I mentioned earlier, Assisi feels like a well groomed town, which typically isn't my thing. However, it was remarkably peaceful. I attribute it to the Franciscan influence. And the whole time we were there I had the Franciscan hymn "All Creatures of our God and King" in my head. (It's used in the Mormon hymn tradition as well as in those of many other religions.) Frankly, it's one of my favorite hymns and I really enjoyed my brief visit (pilgrimage?) to the home of that influential Saint.
*That trip to NYC was WILDLY successful, by the way. We walked enough to burn off everything that we ate, which was something like 40 miles. Ask us about our "Day of Gluttony" some time.
