Earthquakes, Etruscans, and Unknown Melodies

The past week has felt like ten and it will be hard to pick which pieces to share, but here is my best try:

We spent last Thursday-Sunday in the mountain region of Abruzzo, specifically the town of Castelvecchio, an area that was heavily damaged by an earthquake in 2009. The talk from Paola, an architect who has devoted herself to the region, was centered around revitalization, restoration and rehabilitation. However, as I spent more time exploring, I realized that the abandonment is not a result of the earthquake so frequently referenced. Castelvecchio was a city at its peak in 1900 with 1200 residents (now only 50). The exodus began with an earthquake in 1915, then a bad economy during the 1930's, and then the havoc of WWII. So the emptiness has roots beginning about a century ago and the energy to revitalize is coming 50 years too late.

The frame of the destroyed Medici tower 

 My impression from the weekend (which Paola was not so excited to hear) is that cities die. People move, relocate and rebuild for all sorts of reasons, but they are usually valid reasons. Castelvecchio was populated during the time of shepherds and saffron. As technology and globalization created new materials and easier ways of communication, the country folks migrated to bigger cities. The herds of 3 million sheep that used to be marched on a long expedition through the mountains are now shuttled by truck. Castelvecchio is beautiful in its abandonment and while I support rehabilitation in general, there is a lot to learn about the natural habitation and consequent abandonment of this mountain town. Perhaps the energy would be more fruitful in building elsewhere and leaving this history as history, in peace and in the past. The soul of the town is of fondly storytelling of a time when life was bustling, but there is not a strong, forward looking perspective even from the few remaining residents. There exists a spirit of contentment and of acceptance. The abandonment brings comfort, a haven for the few who remain.

Hiked to Rocca Calascio (think Lady Hawke and King David movies)

We returned to our routine in Roma and the bustling heat of the city. Wednesday brought a visit to the Catacombs and Friday we went to the ancient Etruscan burial sites of Cerveteri and Tarquinia. We are working our way chronologically in art history, beginning with the pre-Roman times. The Romans, however, were not so keen on documenting the cultures they conquered so all we can understand about the Etruscan cities are through the cities of their dead. The Etruscans held a strong belief in the afterlife, so their tombs are intensely decorated with fresco paintings and carvings that speak of land ownership, occupation and family life. Their tombs were constructed as their homes were, shaped like mounds that rise from the earth. The main theme of the visit was how we preserve memory. Ezio (our fearless art history leader) has a nice saying that one is only truly dead when the last person who remembers him is dead.

Tumuli in Cerveteri

Fresco painting in Tarquinia

I ended the week by going to Synagogue for Friday night services. One of the wonderful parts of being Jewish is that you can usually recognize the Friday night melodies wherever you go... Not the case in Italy, as I found out. Jews settled in Italy around 160 BCE, so while we usually refer to Ashkenazi and Sephardic Jews as the main traditional distinctions, there are actually Ashkenazi, Sephardic, and Italian Jews. The Italian Jews pronounce Hebrew a little differently and have entirely different melodies than any other Jewish community in the world. This community is also threaded with a deep history of persecution, beginning with the establishment of the ghetto in 1554 and running through the Holocaust when 16 out of the 2000 deported Jews from a 4 block area returned alive. It felt both comforting and alienating, a little known and much unknown.

Always more to come. Sending love from Roma. Ciao!