I sat on the steps across from the duomo in Orvieto, munching contentedly on olive oil breadstick nuggets from the wine store and admiring the way the light changed the face of the cathedral. It was like watching the colors of Ayers Rock change at sunset, translated into the ancient gilded luxury that seems natural in Italy. I’m sure it’s lovely in summer, but it was spectacular in November, largely because there were hardly any tourists around.
With all the churches in Italy, you may think it’s not worth it to take a bus or a train a few hours from Rome into the southern part of land-locked Umbria to visit yet another ornate old building. However, consider this: the parties to World War II both respected this building enough to agree not to bomb it. Even given Hitler’s art fetish, that’s an indication that Orvieto’s cathedral is not just another baroque Catholic extravaganza.
The cathedral, therefore, marked the town as a place of sanctity during those frightening times, and people from the surrounding countryside came in droves to hide in the many caves and tunnels under the city. You can tour some of the caves today, although many of them are now private wine and olive oil cellars. Be sure to note the former pigeon hives in the caves — they may make you decide to dine vegetarian while in Umbria.
I found it strange that the local teenagers met up at night by sitting on the steps of the cathedral, seemingly indifferent to the beauty of the building. I suppose it’s the same way New Yorkers become immune to the skyline and Californians avoid the beach, but I can’t imagine ever walking casually into that small piazza, so dominated by the multi-colored marble and gleaming gold and azure paintings.
On Sunday, a brass band met up in the town’s main square and everyone followed its progress through the streets and up to the stairs of the duomo. The doors to the church were open, and the guards suddenly didn’t care as everyone snapped photos of the interior of the building. It reminded me of the old laws forbidding prosecution of debtors on Sundays, and how Percy Shelley would sneak in to London to meet young Mary at her mother’s grave, well before Frankenstein. So I took some photos. When in Orvieto, after all…
Perhaps my favorite view of the cathedral was from the top of the nearby Torre del Moro, which dates back to the end of the thirteenth century. One caution: you don’t want to be at the top of the building at noon, as the clock bell may send you scuttling down the spiral staircase with a ringing in your ears to last the rest of the day.
Orvieto is an easy day trip from Rome, Florence, or Perugia, by bus or train.