Italian Dream World

Oct. 13, 2003-Orvieto
(photos:His & hers chastity belts,
Leaving Orvietto,
Pitigliano,
Alley in Pitigliano)

We shopped our way through Orvieto to Piazza Duomo and somehow fought off the urge to buy his and hers chastity belts. Each had leather waistbands from which hung straps that passed over organs and orifices. Gender appropriate openings were provided. The male version must have been the first jock strap. It provided a flexible metal penis sheath for protection or restriction.

The Duomo Cathedral is striped in gray and white stone, not the marble I mentioned in yesterday’s email. That aside, the interior is stunning. The main focus is a chapel for the adoration of a cloth upon which, in 1260, sacramental bread bled (try saying that fast). It has the ever-present scaffolding but in typical Italian fashion scaffolding has been elevated to high style. The fittings are all brass and set off the steel bars like jewels on a necklace.

The town attempts to address modern concerns while keeping its authenticity. They have wheel chair lifts up many of the ever-present steps but wheel chair ramps are cobblestone. Artisan’s ranging from metal smiths to jewelers and potters have shops lining the streets. I fell victim to a tall narrow ceramic fountain glazed in a riotous floral design. We bought it and it will be shipped home. It was costly so we rationalized that it’s my birthday present, our anniversary present, and a memento of our trip. Since our purchase, we’ve seen that style fountain in bronze used in the medieval towns. We also sat near one made of stone in a pizzeria tonight. I’m thrilled with it.
We were transfixed by the view as we left Orvieto. It hung over the valley like a haunting reminder of the past. Green hills rolled down to dark chocolate colored newly plowed fields and the grapevines glowed red and orange in the midday sun. We took nearly deserted country roads on our way to Pitigliano.

We stopped for lunch in Castelgiorgio. It’s so small that it wasn’t on our map. We set up the food on benches near a fountain and dug in. Today we added a local Umbrian cheese to our fare along with peppery-spiced tuna in a can, lovely salmon pate in a squeeze tube, and goat cheese. We then drove around Lake Bolsena and quaint stone villas with flowers cascading over balconies and molded plastic children’s slides in the yard. David was masterful as he drove around the switchback curves and didn’t flinch when we encountered a truck that was laden with what looked like pinecones or artichokes or hand grenades.

Pitigliano

Pitigliano was a welcome sight. We crossed a Roman bridge, pulled under a Roman arch in the Roman wall surrounding this hilltop town, and parked in front of a gift shop. The town dates from the early 1200’s and has typical narrow medieval winding streets and alleys. Between the architectural details, the light casting shadows on the stone walled buildings, and the most adorable cat population; we shot over two rolls of film.

The city is called Little Jerusalem and tons of information can be found on line. Although Jews have almost always been a presence, Pitigliano is famous for becoming a refuge in the 17th century and again during WWII. There’s a ghetto with a 16th century synagogue and a museum maintained by the three remaining Jewish families in town. Unfortunately it was closed today. We comforted ourselves by visiting a 13th century church and the local Duomo as well as eating gelato. It was late afternoon and we decided to spend the night here instead of driving the two hours to Siena and trying to find a room.

We didn’t even know if there was a local hotel but were directed to the Albergo Guastini. It is a two-star spotless gem costing EU57 a night. Black and gray marble floors and stenciled walls led past bright green doors to our room. Our green shuttered windows opened to the valley, bridge, and town walls. Swallows were flying at eye level and were so plentiful and frenetic we thought they might fly into our room. All that being wonderful, this is still a European hotel. No screens and the bath towels resemble tea towels on steroids. When I sit on the commode my knees are under the sink and my chin is on its rim.

We didn’t have far to chase sunset today. We sat on a marble bench in a nearby park and watched the blazing fireball turn the sky into what Karen described as an ocean of blue waves. The sun glowed orange, gold, then purpled and sank. The town began to come to life as lights popped on like camera flashes.

We returned to the bar next to our hotel and bought a bottle of spumante made in the town of Asti. It was wine time. Dinner was pizza but the antipasto was most unusual. It was fava beans, onions, and tiny strips of salmon in olive oil served with crusty bread.

The synagogue is open tomorrow. We’ll tour it then go on to Siena.

Toby