BRAVO ORVIETO
Jill Jacques visits a delightful medieval town near Rome
WE take our seats and the funicular begins its spectacular ascent, climbing a vertical distance of 157m to the medieval town of Orvieto. Between the trees that line the route, we glimpse vast panoramas of the surrounding countryside opening up below us: rolling hills, cypresses and olive groves. It’s easy to see why the site was chosen for a city (it has a cathedral) that dates back to Etruscan times. Perched high up on the flat top of a defunct volcano on volcanic rock called tuff, it would be imposing and easy to defend. The cliffs on all sides are among the steepest in Europe.
Orvieto is situated in Umbria, an hour’s journey from Rome by train, and well worth a visit. Leaving the funicular, we spend time admiring the breathtaking views from the walls of what is now a small Italian town. Vineyards clothe the slopes in an area famous for its white wine.
We climb the hill and stroll along quaint, cobbled streets and alleyways, lit with patches of slanting sunlight. Small coffee shops, restaurants and tourist shops selling the town’s hallmark ceramics, line our path. Rounding a corner, we are dazzled by the sight of the towering duomo (cathedral), spires reaching up to the heavens.
With its characteristic stripes in white travertine and green-black basalt (similar to other cathedrals of that era), the cathedral’s cornerstone was laid by Pope Nicholas IV in 1290. The majestic façade is decorated with sparkling golden mosaics, as well as remarkable sculpture by Lorenzo Maitani (14th century). Take time to absorb this, the detail is exquisite.
Why such an enormous cathedral in such a small town? Legend has it that a sceptical priest, doubting that the communion bread was really the body of Christ, was attending a mass at Bolsena, a few miles from Orvieto. During Mass, the bread bled onto a small cloth, which was taken to the Pope, who was in Orvieto at the time. He declared that such a miraculous relic deserved a splendid church, and so the duomo was built. Inside is the Chapel of San Brizio, its walls decorated with frescoes by Fra Angelico, and Signorelli’s famous Day of Judgment.
We enjoy gelatos before venturing into the Etruscan Museum opposite the cathedral. It’s sobering to consider how long ago the vases and other items were crafted, especially in our throw-away society. Views of the cathedral through the windows and from the balcony are excellent and we are again struck dumb by the sheer grandeur of it.
Time for lunch and our Italian friend Roberto asks some locals where we should eat. We walk through a small doorway and climb a narrow staircase to an upper room. There we relax, eat lasagne served straight from the oven, and sample the Classico wine for which the area is famous.
Too soon it is time to catch our train back to Rome; we shop for ceramics on the way to the station. In one small shop, a woman paints a plate as she explains the process to us. As we are surrounded by beautiful plates, cups, teapots and much, much more, choosing is difficult.
En route, we pause to marvel at St Patrick’s Well. At 53m deep and 13m wide, it was built by a panicstricken pope, who feared Orvieto would be besieged and they wouldn’t have water. Two spiral staircases were built in a doublehelix design so that people or mules carrying water would always constitute one-way traffic. We opt not to tackle the 496 steps up and down.
We don’t have time for a guided tour of the Underground City, a labyrinth of underground tunnels and rooms. Long ago, noble families used these as an escape route, emerging outside the city walls. Definitely on my bucket list for next time.
Back at the station, we visit the self-cleaning toilet, which is an experience in itself. A red light forbids entry for five minutes after each visitor, while the toilet “cleans itself”. Not just the bowl, but the whole room — inside the small, free-standing hut, everything is awash and dripping. Clean but very wet!
Our train journey to Orvieto from Rome took exactly an hour, through numerous ear-popping tunnels. If you go the way we did, give yourself plenty of time to get to the station through the early morning rush and more to master the automatic ticket machines, all in Italian. Or you could stand in front of the machine looking bewildered, as we did. In a flash, a gypsy woman materialised beside us and did it all, even taking us to the platform and seeing us into our carriage. Needless to say, a tip is mandatory.
Orvieto is fascinating and utterly delightful.