Civita di Bagnoregio -- So Good It Comes in Two Parts, Part 1

Photos

Civita di Bagnoregio (Che-vee-tah di Ban-yo-ray-gee-o) -- Just practice this pronunciation a couple of times until it rolls off your lips and tongue as smooth as Crisco. Just saying the name of this place already makes me jittery with excitement over the beauty of the Italian hill town. We found out about Civita (as its known locally) through Rick Steves' guidebook on Italy. This tiny town was built 2500 years ago by Etruscans, long before Rome had taken control of this region of Italy. It has also been a part-time home of St. Bonaventure and now holds vacation getaways for millionaire Italian families like the Ferraris. It is a place like no other that we have visited and I doubt that we will ever find another place quite like it again.

Civita sits perched atop a clay plateau that rises steeply from a deep valley. The Etruscans saw the benefit of its easily defensible position and so they carved out a town on the top of this tiny hill. The only way it was reachable was over the top of a saddle which connected Civita to land on either side of it. This narrow ancient pathway has eroded away so that now Civita sits alone, isolated, and connected to the world through a concrete footbridge built in the 1960's as the second path built after the Etruscans had eroded away as well. For years Civita obtained its goods by a donkey which would scurry up the path everyday, bringing supplies necessary for the town's survival. Today, the son of the former courier, now uses a Toro vehicle to bring supplies to the town to stock individual homes as well as the few restaurants that have sprung up since travel writers have found out about this amazing little place.

The problem with Civita, and part of its attraction other than its stunning isolation and beauty, its the certainity of its demise. It is known as the dying town. Clay is not the best substance upon which to build a community, and though it's lasted far longer than it's original purpose as an Etruscan defensible city, it nevertheless continues to slowly fall away. For years the civilians of Civita have woken up not knowing whether one part of the house will have fallen into the abyss during the night. It is only two tenths of a mile long and less than one tenth of a mile wide. The Italian national and local governments have begun putting some money into firming up the foundations of Civita and while Lisa and I were there, constuction was going on to do just that. However, there is a sense of timed demise when you wander the streets of Civita. Especially when one follows the trail at the back end of the city, down and around to the side where you can look up and see exposed wood beams that are holding up rocks of the foundation of the houses. The houses and buildings near the edge of the city are perched perilously over hundred foot drops and it is only a matter of time.

There are only 10-15 residents in Civita, a number that is strangely in doubt considering the how few people live around there. There are vacation homes and as the locals get older they move into nursing homes in the nearby city of Bagnoregio where they can be taken care of. There are no young people at all in Civita and every morning we were there Lisa and I would see people walking up the footbridge to go to their jobs at the two cafes and 3 restaurants in the city. So during the day, there are probably as many people who come to the city for work as there are people who actually live nightly in the city. It was quite a unique experience to look out the open window from the 3rd floor of our 3 room bed and breakfast (the only lodging in town) and see the few local people going about their morning routines of washing down the dusty paving stones and getting ready for another day catering to the 100-200 tourists who come during the high season.

The local people are the kind of folks who are friendly but natural. There were not huge shouts of joy for us for staying two whole nights in Civita, just a local kindness. This made the experience all the more real as there was nothing put on, just Italy as it used to be, Italy in the raw. There were smiles and laughter among the locals as they sat in the shade of the few buildings in the town, chatting about who knows what. There was a softness of pace that was so relaxing compared with the bustling tourist hungry towns we had just passed through.

The Bed and Breakfast where we stayed also had a restaurant attacted to it called 'Antico Forno' or Antique Oven. It is owned by a man named Franco who lives in the nearby city of Orvieto, but who works tirelessly to put Civita on the tourist map so that the town can survive. Franco was not in the town when we were there, but the four of us (Lisa, Jen, Rebecca and myself) were attended to by his two staff members, Nina and Anna. Both nights we were served an amazing three course dinner including two types of pasta, meat and salad, various kinds of bruschetta and all the local wine we could drink. The freshly made pasta with truffle sauce was particlarly pleasing so we had it both nights. The meals were absolutely filling and for the second night we intentionaly went with only snacks for lunch so we could enjoy stuffing ourselves even more at night. We were always served with kindness as we broke through the language barrier by mutually joking about the only dog in the village Birillo who was always ready to scarf down any table scrap that Rebecca would cautiously feed him under the table when Anna and Nina were cooking in the kitchen.

Civita is a place of wonder. A place (so far) away from the struggles and frenzy of modern life. A place of old Italy. A place where a woman sits near her house beckoning you to enjoy the 'panoramica' from her gardern patio. A place where 2000 year old wine presses an ancient underground tunnels can be found with ease and enjoyed by all (small donation accepted). A place to buy ice cream or beer and wait while that man-made invention of time flies by. A place where there is little to worry about and time for anything. Civita is a place where everyone should go, but also a place I hope few people find out about. Things will certainly ruin Civita. There is already the influx of tourists that is steadily increasing. I just hope the flood of people doesn't ruin this perfect town before the natural elements do. I hope you all go to Civita, and sooner is certainly better than later.

We left Civita, it all its wonder and glory, and headed to Rome on the Autostrade. As we motored down the interstate-type road at speeds up to 140 (kilometers/hour of course) and we were passed by cars doing at least 160 (a blazing 100 mph) I found myself thinking that there had been few times in my life when I had been so sad about leaving a town. I already miss Civita and I hope to go back sometime soon. I guess I'll just have to get over my depression in the best way I know how--sailing on a vintage sailing boat through the stunning islands of Croatia. I think this will be sufficient.

Viva la Civita!!!

Same Photos as Above, in case you missed them.