Recently, I was recommended a trip to Perugia to attend the Umbria Jazz festival (my friends are pochi ma buoni) — or rather was compelled to go the moment I saw how incredible the program was, with artists such as Herbie Hancock, Marcus Miller, and Jacob Collier all in the same festival.

While it was challenging to balance working, exploring the city, and watching all the amazing concerts (and trying to get some sleep), I still managed to run around and see most of the places I had planned for my — tragically short — four-day stay. The result is this post, which is by far the longest I have written (and that is without even going into the festival itself, which will have to wait for another time), but that is just how amazing this place is.

people

Perugia, as many major Italian cities, is ancient. Its origins go back at least three millennia, a fusion of Umbrian, Etruscan, and Roman history. The modern center is located where the ancient Etruscan acropolis rose, about 300m from the valley of the Tevere, on top of two hills: Colle Landone and Colle del Sole, and is still delimited by two concentric defensive walls: one built by the Etruscans in the IV century B.C. and a second built after the expansion of the city in the mediaeval period.

Umbria is the region right at the center of continental Italy, and its capital Perugia is located roughly at equal distance from Firenze and Roma (150km) and Milano and Napoli (400km). In mediaeval times it was part of the “Byzantine corridor” which connected the Eastern Roman empire, centered in Constantinople (modern Istanbul) after the fall of Rome, to the regions it still held in central and southern Italy.

This central position made it a place of confluence of three important cultures of the ancient world:

• the Umbrians, the original people of the region, who settled in the surrounding lands in the XI–X centuries B.C. and on the hill where Perugia was built in the VIII century,

• the Etruscans (the inhabitants of Etruria, modern Toscana), who refounded the city with their Umbrian neighbors around the VI century, making it one of the largest of their territory, and eventually formed an (ultimately unsuccessful) alliance against…

• the Romans, who incorporated both Etruscans and Umbrians in the III century into their ever-increasing empire, not only geographically and politically, but also adopting many of their cultural aspects — the Etruscan contribution to Roman culture is comparable to that of the Greeks.

In fact, the river Tiber, which flows from the southern end of Emilia-Romagna all the way to the port of Ostia in Rome, was for centuries the dividing line between the ancient regions of Etruria and Umbria, and Perugia sits right between them. Those who have been to Tuscany will certainly recognize a similar style.

The perfect place to learn about this is Museo Archeologico Nazionale dell'Umbria, in rione San Pietro on the south-east side of the center, right next to Basilica di San Domenico, which houses, among many other historical artifacts, one of the longest intact Etruscan inscriptions ever found, the III century Cippus Peruginus.

walls

A striking features of the city are the walls that surround the historical center, with beautifully preserved monumental gates which provide passage in and out of it. The inner wall, with a circumference of about 3km, is less visible as parts of it were incorporated into other buildings over time. However, it contains the most distinctive of all the gates: Arco Etrusco.

Opening at the northern end of the old acropolis into the cardo maximus (the main north–south road of Roman cities, where today are located via Ulisse Rocchi, where I stayed, and corso Pietro Vannucci, the main street of the city center), its construction is in the same megalithic style seen in most Etruscan works, with large marble stones fit together by precise cutting, without the use of any binding. The arch bears the inscription “Augusta Perusia”, the name given by the emperor Augustus after his victory in the Perusine War (won only after a seven-month siege, a testament to the impenetrability of the city's defenses).

The outer wall, about 9km in length, is a clearer delimitation of the city center, and is where most of the gates can still be seen. Five of them give their name to the five rioni, the regions into which the old center is divided: Porta Sant'Angello, Porta Sole, Porta San Pietro, Porta Eburnea, and Porta Santa Susanna.

art

Beyond the classical period, Perugia was also a cultural center of the Renaissance, and many of the greatest works of the period can still be seen around the city, specially at the Galleria Nazionale dell'Umbria (which sadly I did not have time to visit).

Pietro Vannucci, one of the masters of the early Italian Renaissance movement, was born in what today is provincia di Perugia and spent much of his life in the city, resulting in his eponym, Perugino.

One of his pupils was Raffaello, regarded as one of the three greatest figures (along with Michelangelo and Da Vinci) of the High Renaissance period. Born in the Marche, he moved to Perugia in 1494, at 11 years old, to develop his craft under Perugino, and one of their collaborative works can still be seen here: the fresco Trinità e santi in Cappella San Severo, which displays the unmistakable style that can be seen in his later works, such as the Scuola di Atene in the Vatican.

around the city

Just walking around the historical center, admiring the architecture in Etruscan style, the wide views over the landscape of the valley, or simply the picturesque scenery of an old Italian town, is an attraction in itself. At every corner along the way there is something beautiful to stop and admire.

Venturing just north of the main square one finds a curious path which passes under via Cesare Battisti, down a large stairway, then over several streets on its way north-west. This is in fact an ancient aqueduct, an engineering marvel from the XIII century, which brought water from monte Pacciano, about 3–4km north, to the top of the Perugian hill, providing water for the city, including the famous Fontana Maggiore, through the use of pressure alone, without the aid of pumps. It later fell in disuse, but part of its course has been turned into via dell'Acquedotto, a scenic course connecting rione Porta Sant'Angelo to the city center.

Not far from the fountain is a much older but equally amazing exemplar of aquatic engineering: Pozzo Etrusco. This is a well built in the III century B.C. by the Etruscans at the top of Colle del Sole. The underground of palazzo Sorbello has since been turned into a small museum, which can be visited along with the well itself. It is an amazing display of the engineering abilities of the Etruscans, penetrating 40m into the hill, with a capacity to hold almost 500,000 liters of water. The top structure, just below the street, is supported by two sets, each weighing nearly a tonne, of four limestone blocks, also here set in place without the use of mortar or other type of binding (there is a great depiction in the museum of how this engineering feat was accomplished).

churches

In the northern region, I visited what has become my favorite among all the churches I have been to (and those are a quite few): chiesa di San Michele Arcangelo. Because it is in fact a paleochristian temple from the V century (likely erected over even older Roman and Etruscan temples), it has an unusual style: its shape is round, and the presbytery is divided from the ambulatory by a circle of sixteen Roman marble columns in Corinthian style. Light enters the building primarily from twelve windows placed around the cupola, which sits just above the altar, rendering the interior even more austere.

If that were not enough, not only is the traditional mass in Latin still celebrated there, the temple sits on the so-called Line of Saint Michael, a series of temples dedicated to the archangel which form a straight line from Ireland to Israel, aligned with the last ray of sunlight of the summer solstice.

The cathedral, built in the XV century, stands right on the main square, next to Palazzo dei Priori and Fontana Maggiore, and contains many works of the Renaissance, as well as what tradition holds to be the Holy Ring, the wedding ring of the Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph.

A short distance south past the city walls is Basilica di San Pietro, which gives its name to both the region where it stands and the gate which leads to it. A stunning X century building, its 70m-high bell tower is the tallest construction in Perugia and one of its most distinctive. A favorite of mine, it also contains both a botanical garden and a reproduction of a mediaeval hortus conclusus, a symbolic monastic garden.

On the western end of the center is Oratorio di San Bernardino and Chiesa di San Francesco al Prato, the latter a XIII century church built in similar style to the church of Santa Chiara in the city of Assisi which, just 25km east, can be seen from many points in Colle del Sole.

Whenever my itinerary includes large cities — which are not my favorite places, you should know by now, I can only take so much of them at a time — I must per forza intersperse escapes to remote places. As soon as I got to Sicily's capital and largest city, Palermo (one walk through La Loggia at night, with the incessant chatter of the Italian evenings, was enough), I fled to the small volcanic island of Ustica, about 70km north towards the heart of the Tyrrhenian sea.

The island has only one inhabited center, a small town on the northeastern coast, but is otherwise practically empty (this was in spring, so safely before the unbearably hot and crowded season). There I spent the day walking the trails that cross the island, exploring ancient ruins, climbing volcanic rocks, and refreshing in crystalline waters or under the shade of exotic vegetation when the Sicilian heat got too intense (I still got badly sunburned), all the while being by myself for nearly the entire day, with no one around as far as the eye could see. A day in paradise.

According to some interpretations of the Homeric geographical descriptions, this is the ancient Aeaea, the island of the goddess Circe, the beautiful sorceress whose cunning turned incautious sailors into swine. Odysseus, with the help of the goddess of wisdom, Athena, is not affected by the enchantments, but becomes her lover. After he spends a year on the island, she teaches him the way to Hades, the Greek underworld, the next step of the epic νόστος, his long journey home.

Settlements on the island started in the Paleolithic era (XIV–XIII century B.C.), possibly from the neighboring Aeolian islands. The Greeks called it Οστεώδες (Osteódes, “ossuary”), due to the extensive presence of human remains found there. Its current name is Roman, derived from Latin ustum (“burned”), in reference to the dark volcanic rock which can be seen all around the coast and forms the base of the land: it was formed from magma originated from the depths of the Earth's mantle, and the island is in fact the tip of a volcanic complex more than six times larger, now mostly submerged.

I arrived early in the morning — the hydrofoil takes 90 minutes to arrive — and walked around the center just long enough to visit Chiesa di Ferdinando Re and buy some nespole from the local market, departing right away to Sentiero del Mezzogiorno, one of the several trails which cover the island's entire 12km circumference. Starting in the east, at the southern side of the city, it passes through some of the island's most stunning spots on the way to Faro di Punta Cavazzi on the opposite end.

As usual, it took way longer than it should have to get there, so there was only time left to head straight back to the urban side via the opposite coast, passing by the Bronze Age settlements in Sentiero Archeologico, then visit Rocca della Falconiera, the visible tip of the submerged volcano crater, with its paleo-Christian tombs and late-Roman necropolis, before running down to the coast (after a short pause for a gelato, naturally) to catch the boat back at the end of the day and lament the fact that there wasn't enough time to stay for at least a few days.

It's easy to see the reason for the delay. Ustica has a very rich aquatic environment: it was Italy's first marine protected area, and practically its entire coast is part of Risierva naturale orientata Isola di Ustica. No fishing is allowed, so the water is abundant in marine animals, geological spectacles, and ancient archaeological remains from millennia of shipwrecks. Here more than in any Sicilian island the spectacle of volcanic rock running straight into the Mediterranean waters is on full display. This combined with the contrasting colors of the typical Sicily vegetation really does make it seem like it was the magic works of the daughter of Helios and the sea nymph Perse that gave shape to the island.

One final note: if you go with the intention of swimming in one of the many fantastic beaches around the island (and really, you should), make sure to bring water shoes. In my hubris, I thought they were the equivalent of gym gloves: they're not. A cut in my feet from one of the rocky beaches taught me that.

The trip across Sicily started at the western end, in the city of Trapani and the adjoining archipelago, Isole Egadi. Before Greeks, Phoenicians, and Romans competed for dominance over Sicily — possibly even before the fall of Troy in the XII century B.C. — this region was inhabited by the Ελυμοι (Elymoi, “Elymians”), who had built a city and a temple in the nearby mount Ἔρυξ (Éryx, modern Erice). It even appears in Virgil's Aeneid, as the place where Aeneas burries his father Anchise before sailing to the penninsula.

Following a victory by the Carthaginians in 260 B.C., the mountainous city was almost completely destroyed, and its inhabitants transferred to the nearby coast, to the newly founded Δρέπανον (Drépanon, Drepanum in Latin). The name was given due to the shape of the promontory, evident when seen from mount Erice, from the Greek word for “sickle”, δρεπάνη (drepáne). It persisted as one of the last remaining Punic cities in the island, and was the location of a Roman defeat in 249 B.C., until the Battle of the Aegates in the nearby archipelago secured their domination of Sicily.

With such an extensive history, many of the buildings in the historical center (which is very unique, being contained entirely inside the promontory) date back to the XII–XIV century. Its cathedral, Cattedrale di San Lorenzo, was built in 1102. Millennia of war around this critical channel at the heart of the Mediterranean have also left their mark: fortifications from the Punic Wars to the World Wars are seen throughout the city and the surrounding waters. And it was here, in the XIX century, that Giuseppe Garibaldi started the military campaing that would become the Risorgimento.

Being the western end of Sicily (and so the south-west end of Italy), this region has an even more pronounced Arab influence — Tunisia is just 160km away on the other side of the channel. One of the main influences is culinary (this is Italy, after all), and many local dishes are an Italian–Arab mixture, as is the local specialty, cuscus di pesce — which is fantastic.

I am so traumatized by how awful most tourists behave, I end up not taking as many pictures as I should. That, in this case, combined with the frenetic pace of trying to cross the entire island in three weeks, meant I unfortunatelly did not manage to capture what the city is like very well, especially the old city center. Oh well, at least the pictures you get are pretty.

My first stop in Sicily — and I could not have chosen a better one — was Favignana, the largest of the Aegadian Islands. These are an archipelago of five islands in the Strait of Sicily, the closest about 7km from its western end, in the region of Trapani and Marsala. The Greeks called them Aἰγάται Νῆσοι (Aigátai Nésoi, Aegates Insulae in Latin), the “islands of the goats” (making them etymologicaly related to Capri), and according to English novelist Samuel Butler, author of a distinguished translation of Homer's Odyssey in 1900, their Ἱερά Νήσος (Hierá Nésos, “holy island”), the island of Marettimo, furthest from the coast, is none other than Ithaca, the famous homeland that Odysseus seeks throughout the epic.

Regardless of the veracity of this claim, the islands have significant historical importance, as can be seen from the archaeological remains from the Paleolithic Era (back in the glacial period when all of Italy, Sicily, and its islands were connected and more easily reachable from Africa) and the Punic wars found all over the surrounding sea. Even though I would have liked to visit them all, the short time available to stay in each place meant I had to make sacrifices: here I had to choose only one of the islands.

Favignana ended up being my choice; not that it is any less illustrious than its sisters: it was the famous site of the major naval victory of the Romans over the Carthaginians in 241 B.C., which marked the end of the first Punic war and the annexation of Sicily as their first province, later establishing Rome's dominance as the supreme ruler of the Mediterranean, surpassing even the mighty Greeks, who had had their own conflicts with the same enemies for centuries at this point. All this by the somewhat obscure general Gaius Lutatius Catulus, a novus homó who won this battle only to fade again into history. This event is still celebrated in Favignana more than two thousand years later — and I have two shirts to prove it (this is why I love Italy).

Favignana is the perfect exemplar of the Scilian islands. Other than monte Santa Caterina at its center, the land is mostly flat, making its coast ideal to be explored by walking or cycling. And cycle I did: in one afternoon, I went through its entire 33km perimeter. The reward for doing so are some of the most surreal landscapes in all of Italy.

The islands of Sicily are miniatures of itself, with mountains descending steeply into beaches of the crystal-clear water of the central Mediterranean, with volcanic rocks and exotic, exuberant vegetation all over them. I have never seen sea water so transparent, and of an azure-turquoise color so intense it is almost offensive to the senses.

A curious feature of the island are the ever-present quarries: colossal sections of rock (calcarenite, a type of limestone) which have been cut in precise right angles to be used for buildings — the famous Duomo di Monreale is one example of a construction done using limestone from Favignana. It was historically an important source of this type of material, and these sites can still be seen throughout the island, including and especially along the coast, where caves were opened in cliffs right next to the sea.

In some places the protection from wind and abundance of sun and water provided by these artificially lowered surfaces have created the conditions for rich vegetation to develop — the famous hypogeum gardens of Favignana (from Greek ὑπο- + γῆ + -ῐος, “under the ground”).

The city of Ianus keeps teaching me about movement and change. Ever since my first visit (of many) to Genova, I wanted to explore the coast around it, the riviera ligure. This weekend, after seeing that the gulf of Tigullio is only about 30km away, and that spring weather had arrived with gusto, I did what any sensible man would: got myself a bicycle and departed the very next day.

The trip amounted to about 40km, over two days:

• 25km: Genova – Recco
• 10km: Rapallo – Portofino
• 5km: Portofino – Santa Margherita Ligure

(I arrived in Recco with no time, and neither my legs nor the brakes of the bicycle were in condition, to face the trip across Monte Pollone to Rapallo as I had originally planed, so I ended up making those final 10km by train)

Portofino is a tiny comune, with around 350 inhabitants. It is a natural harbor, its promontory providing protection from both sea and wind and creating a calm pool of azure water, long used by fishermen before it became a big touristic attraction, and a prominent position in the gulf for both its lighthouse and castle.

The origin of its name is found in Pliny the Elder (the one who bravely died during the eruption of Vesuvius, again): Portus Delphíní, from the Latin word which is the root of “dolphin” in English. Δελφίς in turn comes from the word for “womb”, δελφύς (since it is an aquatic mammal). The resemblance to the name of the famous temple — whose priestess prophesied the wisdom of Socrates, the fate of Oedipus, etc. — is not accidental: it was an ancient place of veneration of the Earth goddess Gaia, and legend says Apollo turned into a dolphin to carry its priests from the island of Crete, who then worshipped him as Απόλλων Δελφίνιος.

Legend says the city was founded by the god Janus, whose two faces watch over past and future — the ruler of time, of gates and passages, of beginnings and endings, of traveling, commerce, and sailing, of war and peace, of morning, birth, journey, transition, and change (it was in honor of him that the Romans named the first month of the year, Ianuarius, which marks the winter solstice and the transition between years). This is attested by Pozzo di Giano, a well in what is considered the founding place of the city of Genova which, like the two-faced Janus, faces both sea and mountain.

The pictures here are from the three times I have been there — so far — all of which, appropriately, marked some of the most consequential transitions in my life. The most significant was exactly one year ago, as I write this, when I passed it moving from Lazio to a completely new life — not least because it was now my country — in my current home, Torino, about 125km north-west.

The people of Liguria are of Celtic origin, distinct from the Greeks, Etruscans, Romans, and other historic peoples of the Italian peninsula, and the region to this day has a culture of its own. Genova, as many Italian city-states, was a large maritime republic for many centuries, and expanded to many areas along the Mediterranean and beyond. To cite a few examples:

• the Galata district of Istanbul was a Genovese colony in the XIII century (when it was still Constantinople), and its emblematic Galata Tower was built during this period

• though the origins of Christopher Columbus are disputed, one of the claims is that he was born in Genova, the house where he lived is conserved as a museum and a monument can be found right in front of the train station

Much of the splendor of that time is still visible in its many palaces, archways, and historic buildings, but it is also possible to get lost in the labyrinth of medieval alleyways, or in the steep hills with views of the Mediterranean and the beginning of the Alps, or in the amazing food of the original home of focaccia and pesto.

I could spend the rest of my life in Rome: every time I am there I end up spending hours in a single, small part of it, not seeing nearly enough, and leaving thinking I will have to return at least once more. This particular time, it was this monumental complex of public baths, built at the turn of the IV century. Located in the northeastern part of the city center, right next to the main train station, Roma Termini, it can be easily visited even during a short stay, as mine was.

Built around the time of the emperor Diocletianus, they were the largest public baths of the empire, with a maximum capacity of 3000 people and an area of around 32 acres. After falling in disuse as a result of the interruption by the Goths of the large aqueduct which was their source of water, following the fall of the empire, the area was restored over centuries and has served many different purposes; to name a few: it was the birthplace of Museo Nazionale Romano, houses the basilica of Santa Maria degli Angeli (which, together with the inner cloister, was designed by Michelangelo in the XVI century), and supplies water for Fontana delle Naiadi in Piazza della Repubblica.

Other than the remains themselves, the area around Michelangelo's cloister has an exhibition on the early development of civilization in the Latium (the region which gives both the Latin language and the modern region of Lazio their name), starting from the Bronze Age, millennia before Rome, the Republic, and the Empire; right next to it the epigraphic section has historical artefacts of Greek and Roman writing; finally, there are archaeological finds from the baths themselves as well as other areas of the city.

The main reason for my visit was to see a few famous items housed there (at least “famous” for those like me). First, a piece of pottery containing the earliest evidence of writing found in Italy, from the VIII century B.C. (the time of Homer's Iliad and Odyssey). Its Greek inscription is among the three oldest ever found, together with the ones found in Ischia and Athens.

Then, there is a stone tablet, a funerary inscription, containing one of the oldest Christian writings, from the III century: “ιχθυς ζωντων“, the “fish of the living”, which has been used as a symbol since the earliest period of Christianity (sometimes covertly) as, beyond the evangelical symbolism, its letters form the initials of the phrase:

Ἰησοῦς Χρῑστός Θεοῦ Υἱός Σωτήρ
Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior

Lastly, the object of my greatest interest: a mosaic found in a tomb in via Appia with the Roman Greek inscription: “Γνωθι σαυτον“. This is the most famous of the Delphic maxims, a set of three phrases written on the temple of Apollo in Delphi, home of the Pythian prophetess:

Γνῶθι σεαυτόν – know thyself
Μηδὲν ἄγαν – nothing in excess
Ἐγγύα πάρα δ' Ἄτα – give a pledge and trouble is at hand

It was Socrates (who, as told by Plato and Xenophon, was named the wisest man by that very same priestess at the temple of Delphi) the first to give it its fullest meaning:

οὐ δύναμαί πω κατὰ τὸ Δελφικὸν γράμμα γνῶναι ἐμαυτόν: γελοῖον δή μοι φαίνεται τοῦτο ἔτι ἀγνοοῦντα τὰ ἀλλότρια σκοπεῖν. ὅθεν δὴ χαίρειν ἐάσας ταῦτα, πειθόμενος δὲ τῷ νομιζομένῳ περὶ αὐτῶν, ὃ νυνδὴ ἔλεγον, σκοπῶ οὐ ταῦτα ἀλλ᾽ ἐμαυτόν, εἴτε τι θηρίον ὂν τυγχάνω Τυφῶνος πολυπλοκώτερον καὶ μᾶλλον ἐπιτεθυμμένον, εἴτε ἡμερώτερόν τε καὶ ἁπλούστερον ζῷον, θείας τινὸς καὶ ἀτύφου μοίρας φύσει μετέχον.

I am not yet able, as the Delphic inscription has it, to know myself; so it seems to me ridiculous, when I do not yet know that, to investigate irrelevant things. And so I dismiss these matters and accepting the customary belief about them, as I was saying just now, I investigate not these things, but myself, to know whether I am a monster more complicated and more furious than Typhon or a gentler and simpler creature, to whom a divine and quiet lot is given by nature.

Appropriately, it appears in Petrarca's recollection of the time he spent in these very same ruins:

Quis enim dubitare potest quin illico surrectura sit, si ceperit se Roma cognoscere?

For who can doubt that there would be an immediate resurrection, if Rome decided to know itself?

But it is the magnificent De Legibus of Cicero which perfectly synthesizes the unparalleled impact of this terse two-word precept on the millennia of philosophical debate since its writing:

Est huius uero disputationis, Quinte, proprium, id quod expectas, atque utinam esset etiam facultatis meae! Sed profecto ita se res habet, ut quoniam uitiorum emendatricem legem esse oportet commendatricemque uirtutum, ab eadem uiuendi doctrina ducatur. Ita fit ut mater omnium bonarum rerum sit sapientia, a quoius amore Graeco uerbo philosophia nomen inuenit, qua nihil a dis immortalibus uberius, nihil florentius, nihil praestabilius hominum uitae datum est. Haec enim una nos cum ceteras res omnes, tum, quod est difficillimum, docuit, ut nosmet ipsos nosceremus, cuius praecepti tanta uis et tanta sententia est, ut ea non homini quoipiam, sed Delphico deo tribueretur.

And indeed what you expect, my Quintus, harmonizes very well with the subjects of our present discussion. And I wish that it were within my abilities to do justice to it. But the real state of the case is, that since law ought to be both a correctress of vice and a recommender of virtue, the principles on which we direct our conduct ought to be drawn from her. And, thus it comes to pass wisdom is the mother of all the virtuous arts, from the love of which the Greeks have composed the word Philosophy; and which is beyond all contradiction the richest, the brightest, and the most excellent of the gifts which the Gods have bestowed on the life of mankind. For wisdom alone has taught us, among other things, the most difficult of all lessons, namely, to know ourselves, a precept so forcible and so comprehensive, that it has been attributed not to a man, but to the God of Delphi himself.

One of the two major early-Mediaeval peregrination routes across Western Europe — the other being, of course, the famous Camino de Santiago, which it predates by a few centuries and to which it is roughly perpendicular. Beginning in Canterbury (specifically, Canterbury Cathedral, seat of the Archbishop of the Church of England), at the southeastern corner of Britain near the Thames estuary, it crosses France, Switzerland, and the entirety of the Italian peninsula, passing through Rome and ending in Santa Maria di Leuca in Puglia, the southeastern end of Italy, after more than three thousand kilometers. From there pilgrims would sail across the Mediterranean to the Holy Land. Thus it connects, together with Camino de Santiago, Compostela, Canterbury, Rome, and Jerusalem, the main peregrination sites of Christianity.

Its southeastern portion in Lazio, departing from Rome, follows the ancient via Appia, the Roman regina viarum, and I had the chance to visit many places on that route during my brief stay there: Gaeta, Formia, Scauri, Minturno (and the archeological site of Minturnae), Santi Cosma e Damiano, Castelforte, and Suio (see those for more, I won't repost the pictures here), after which it crosses the Garigliano river into Campania. The entire path is demarcated by signs directing the way and, more than just the road (although that is itself an attraction), there are endless natural, cultural, and historical wonders along the way.

Maybe one day I'll go for the entire 3268 kilometers.

As many of the cities along the Tyrrhenian coast on the ancient via Appia, Formia was a favored place for Roman seaside villae — including one belonging to the stepfather of the emperor Augustus. Its Greek name Όρμιαι (Hormiae in Latin, from a word for “harbor”) refers to its many ports and the mild maritime climate provided by its surroundings: the gulf of Gaeta and the monti Aurunci. The remains of many of these villae and ports can still be seen all they from the city center to the rocky shore on the way to monte Scauri, with salient pieces of two-thousand-year-old mosaics coming out of the rock every now and then.

One of the most famous residents of Formiae was the illustrious novus homo Marcus Tulius Cicero. It was there, on via Appia in 43 A.D., that he was assassinated by order of Marcus Antoninus, after criticizing both him and Julius Caesar throughout the decadent period which led to the Empire and admonishing Romans to return to the old Republican values — one of his most famous phrases, “O tempora, o mores”, “O times! O customs!”, comes from this period.

For both his implacable resistance and eminence as a public citizen, Cicero received the harshest punishment of all opponents of Antoninus: his severed head and his hands were displayed in the Roman Forum as strong discouragement of dissent. The monument housing his tomb lies on a stretch of the via Appia just outside of Formia now named after him: via Marco Tulio Cicerone.

The Roman city of Minturnae, in the southern region of Lazio, was built in 312 B.C. on the site of the previous conquered ancient city of the same name, part of the Pentapoli Aurunca. Its location, protected by the monti Aurunci to the north, golfo di Gaeta and mar Tirreno to the southwest, and the river Liris (now called Garigliano) to the southeast, and right on via Appia, the “regina viarum” (queen of roads, the main road connecting Rome to the southern end of the peninsula), made it a strategic point for a colony.

The ruins of the Roman city can be still be visited today (that's for another post), but after the fall of the Empire and the interruption of its great aqueduct by the Goths, it was transferred to a fortified place on a nearby hill, and given the name of the old city, today called “Minturno”.

The medieval city center consists of two parallel roads encircling the hill, crossed by endless alleys (vichi) passing between and at places under the buildings, all surrounded by beautiful churches, bars and restaurants, and a medieval palace.

The modern part of the city spreads all the way to the sea and, together with the neighboring Formia and Gaeta, is still a popular summer destination on the beautiful Tyrrhenian coast, just as it was in Roman times.

This post will be different than usual. Taking photographs is forbidden inside the cappella, so these are not mine, but taken from their web site (I hope they will not sue me for the mountains of money I make with each post).

But it is impossible not to mention Cappella Sansevero, in the heart of the old city center of Napoli, right next to Basilica di San Domenico Maggiore. The pieces on display stand out even in a city that is full of spectacular art; if you like sculpture, or art in general, you probably already know at least some of them, since they are frequently listed as some of the most stunning works of all time.

The most famous of them is the piece at the center, Giuseppe Sanmartino's Cristo Velato (1753), closely followed by Antonio Corradini's Pudicizia (1752) and Francesco Queirolo's Disinganno (1754), all of which are so unbelievably vivid they barely look like statues made entirely of marble.

Many other works complete the densely-packed exposition, such as the high relief behind the main altar (Francesco Celebrano's Deposizione, 1756), but the main feature are the ten statues of the Virtues along both lateral walls, from the entrance to the altar, which include the two already mentioned; they are: Pudicizia, Disinganno, Soavità del giogo coniugale, Sincerità, Zelo della religione, Dominio di se stessi, Liberalità, Educazione, Decoro, and Amor divino.

Even if you cannot make it to Napoli to see these in person, the Cappella has a website full of high-resolution pictures and additional information, so you can do a virtual tour. And one final note: if you do decide to go there, make sure to reserve tickets in advance (which can be also done via their website), they were sold out the first time I went and I almost missed it the second time. Oh, and take the audio guide, it's very good.

The last stop of my marathon in the Gulf of Napoli. I had become so enamored of the island from watching it all the way across the Gulf of Gaeta, more than 60km away — it is located right between the two gulfs, in the area where Campi Flegrei, the huge volcanic caldera, enters the Mediterranean sea, forming Penisola flegrea and the surrounding islands — seeing its dim figure through the maritime mist, its shaded contour against the colored sky at sunset, its dark green suspended in the bright blue where both sky and sea meet on sunny days (see the other posts where it makes an appearance), that I could not leave Campania without going there.

Napoli, the Νεάπολις, and the surrounding area was the center of Magna Graecia, the Greek colonies in southern Italy, and the settlement of Ischia goes back to the 9th century B.C. as a trading post in the Mediterranean. Its archaeological museum is home to one of the earliest inscriptions in the Greek language ever found, a cup made in an Aegean island in the 8th century B.C., discovered just 70 years ago in a tomb in the island.

The trip from Napoli starts in Porta di Massa, the port at the center of the city, from which also depart boats to Capri and other destinations in and around the gulf. It takes about 90 minutes for the ferry to get there (the faster hydrofoil takes just over an hour), but that is hardly noticeable, since there isn't a single minute along the path without beautiful views of the coast, the city of Napoli, the island of Nisida, Capo di Posillipo, the island of Procida, etc., as well as those across the gulf: Vesuvius, Capri, and the Sorrento peninsula.

There was no chance I could explore the entire island (it is the largest in the region, almost 50km²), since I had only a single day to visit it, so I just decided to explore without planning much in advance (but that also just means I'll have to return =).

The day started very sunny, and the deep azure typical of the waters of the Gulf was displayed in its full glory all along the northeastern coast, from Punta San Pietro all the way to the castle. After a stop for lunch and a bus trip to the village of Fontana, the weather turned very misty as I made my way to monte Epomeo, the highest point of the island (788m) and, by the time I got to the summit, it was almost completely surrounded by clouds and the shore, just a few kilometers away, was barely visible.

Climbing down the mount straight towards the south leads to the thermal waters of Sant'Angelo, where the high sulphur content of the volcanic water springs creates a natural swimming pool spanning the entire coast. As the sun was starting to set, all I had time left for was another bus ride to the port to take the ferry back to Napoli, where the day ended with some pasta, seafood, and vino alla spina (naturally) in I Sapori di Parthenope, a great local restaurant next to the central station I had to visit a second time.

If you are obsessed with Ancient Rome as I am (as I hope you are), you knew this was coming. After the Palatine hill in Rome itself, the most famous Roman ruins which survive to this day are certainly the city of Pompeii. As its neighbor Herculaneum, it was at the time at the seaside (built on top of a layer of lava from a previous eruption), it was buried under several meters of volcanic material expelled from mount Vesuvius in 79 AD, remained lost for more than a millennium and a half until it was accidentally rediscovered, and now provides an unbelievable view into what life was like in the Roman empire two thousand years ago.

Unlike Herculaneum, which can comfortably be seen in its entirety in less than a day, it was a much bigger city, with ten to twenty thousand inhabitants and an excavated area of around 3.5km — although not as wealthy as the neighboring seaside retreat, with its abundance of exuberant villae. It has also been more thoroughly explored by archaeologists: since the layer of material which covered it was not as deep (4–6 m), it was discovered earlier, in 1592, and only ⅓ still remains buried. It was, however, much more directly hit by the destructive force of the eruption, so much less of the original structures was preserved.

Here too the excavation process continues to this day, balanced with the need to preserve the parts which have already been unearthed and suffer constant degradation by the elements and the visitors. E.g.: when I was there, a large section called “Regio IX” was closed, a few months later the excavation of a house with a large dining hall covered in frescoes was announced. A look at the news from the past few years demonstrates how these sites are a constant source of discoveries from that period in history.

And, of course, the amphitheater was where the famous Pink Floyd concert was recorded in 1972. I was pleasantly surprised to find an exhibition about it in the galleries there — and reminded of my age when I saw many “youths” pass by in absolute ignorance of what the exhibition was about.

I also could not pass the chance to visit once again the cathedral of Pompei, so here are a few bonus pictures.

At the foot of mount Vesuvius there existed, until the fated year of 79 AD, a Roman town named Herculaneum. Legend says it was founded by the Greek hero Ἡρακλῆς (Heracles, known to the Romans as Hercules) himself while returning from Iberia after one of his twelve labors, and named after him. While not as large as the nearby city of Pompeii, its position at (what was then) the seaside made it a retreat for Roman nobility including, it is believed, Julius Caesar's father-in-law, Lucius Calpurnius Piso Caesonius, and its four thousand inhabitants enjoyed decent prosperity.

That, of course, changed radically with the eruption. At around 1AM heat waves of up to 400°C reached the town, traveling at 160km/h, killing those who remained instantly and burying the area under 20m of volcanic ash.

More than a millennium and a half would pass until the town was accidentally rediscovered in 1709 during the excavations for the construction of a well. Because of its position away from the wind direction in that particular day of the eruption, its destruction was much reduced compared to other places around the gulf such as Pompeii, making it unique in how well-preserved its structures are, as well as the artifacts found inside them (most of which are now on display in the museo archeologico nazionale di Napoli).

The modern Italian city of Ercolano, renamed after the ancient Roman town it was built (unknowingly) upon, is located 450m away from what is today the coast, and the ancient ruins are now 4m below sea level. Around ¾ still remain buried, as efforts have lately been focused on preserving the rapidly-deteriorating parts which have already been excavated. This is also the reason why some of these pictures are not at ideal and sometimes are even at awkward angles: many of the houses, rooms, and spaces are not accessible so they can be better preserved and renovated.

New discoveries are constantly made. A recent example was the unearthing of more than three hundred human skeletons in 1980 inside what were then the docks, revealing the last moments of those who remained and waited to be rescued by brave sailors, such as (and as is famously recounted by) Pliny the Elder.

Another recent excavation area, currently closed for the public, is Villa dei Papiri, named after the many ancient texts found in its vast library (if you ever need further evidence of the decadence of Western society — not that there is a short supply — think about how nobility in Roman times went to the seaside to read Greek texts about Epicurean philosophy). Getty Villa in Los Angeles is a reconstruction of the Herculaneum villa, illustrating how it and the other houses looked like at its prime just before the eruption.

Suio, on the border between the Italian regions of Lazio and Campania, is situated in an area rich in thermal waters, considered some of the best in Italy for the presence of iodine and therapeutical for their richness of sulphur.

Known and frequented since antiquity, it appears in the writings of Pliny the Elder (who died attempting to rescue victims of the eruption of Vesuvius). It is thought to have been part of the Pentapoli Aurunca, a group of cities which predate the Roman conquest of the region, as the “Aquae Vescinae” of the ancient city of Vescia. The Greek philosopher Plotinus was treated there and is thought to have died and be buried in the church of Santa Maria in Pensulis.

Part of the frazione is located on a steep hill where a medieval castle was built to take advantage of the view of the entire valley, from monte Orlando in Gaeta to monte Massico in Caserta, Campania.

To this day there are a number of spas on the road which follows the Garigliano river, with their constantly-flowing streams of hot water and strong sulphur smell. The sentiero pictured here crosses the valley and arrives in Campania.

After crossing via Valle di Suio, next to the road which follows the Garigliano river, in the comune of Sant'Andrea del Garigliano, almost in Frosinone, just before the end of the province of Latina, there is a magical place, hidden among the trees that surround the river margins.

A fountain of sulphur-rich mineral water springs from a large vertical rock and forms a small pool of almost-transparent azure color, which then runs to the river and joins it on its way down the valley to the gulf of Gaeta in the Tyrrhenian Sea.

You can find pictures of what it looks like in summer; in this particular bright winter day, the fountain was not running, but the icy waters, the trees without their foliage, the nubilous weather, all made for an equally fantastical spectacle.

(there are no tricks in these pictures: this is really what this place looks like — there are none in the ones I post, but especially in these they would not be necessary)

Known to the Romans as Surrentum, from Greek Συρρεντόν, meaning “a confluence”, from the verb “συρρέω”. A city protected by steep rock walls, with a single entrance where parts of the Greek walls and gate can still be seen, and by the waters of the gulf of Napoli.

I spent most of my time there (just over a day, unfortunately) walking Capo di Sorrento, and most of that in Bagni della Regina Giovanna, amazing Roman ruins from the 1st century AD, with its own natural swimming pool and port.

Last set from Capri, though I would post every single picture if I could.

These are taken over the two days I spent there, along two sentieri: one going from the famous Faraglioni up to monte Tuoro, the other crossing the entire Western coast passing through the ruins of Roman forts and rocky paths along the limestone cliffs, where dolphins and whales can be regularly seen (a pity they were too far away to get a good picture or video of them).

Faith, in one sentence.

Climbing monte Solaro in the island of Capri. The path begins in Porto di Marina Grande, right after leaving the boat. It goes up through tiny streets and stairs along the Northern portion of the town of Capri, then begins an almost vertical ascent through Scala Fenicia, a stairway built on the face of the mount in the 7th century B.C. by the Greek colonizers of the island (there are no pictures at this point because I was busy trying to survive the almost 1000 steps).

From there it proceeds less strenuously through Villa San Michele, monte Cappello, and the Eremo di Santa Maria a Cetrella, and arrives in monte Solaro after another ~45° climb. From the top, another trail climbs down to Punta Carena and Sentiero Forino (those will have to remain for another day).

Visiting this type of place in winter is great because they are almost deserted. Outside the city centers, other than the occasional “buongiorno” exchange with a few locals on the sentieri, you have the island mostly for yourself. Well, that and the group I found just after reaching the top, seen in the last couple of pictures.

It's unclear whether the name of the island comes from Greek κάπρος (kápros, “boar”) or Latin caprea (“female goat”), I present evidence for the latter. This group, the only contact with living beings I had that afternoon, was right on the trail leading down to Punta della Chiavica, but they made way as soon as I approached (not without some timid and adorable intimidation attempts from the young males).

I've been to many beautiful places in my life. But none compares, at least in terms of pure natural beauty, to this piccola isola at the Southern end of the gulf of Napoli, a few kilometers away from the Sorrento peninsula.

Capri occupies a relatively small space — it's about 6x3km in its longest spans — but there's so much in it… Beaches with extremely clear waters of the typical azure color of the gulf, mounts as high as 800m with peaks surrounded by clouds, rocky limestone cliffs sculpted by sea water, bucolic small villages, remains of Roman villae and ruins, trails through forests and hills connecting all of these, beautiful art, land and aquatic wildlife, … it truly is a wonderful place. I initially spent a day there, but had to return for another, and will certainly return more times in the future.

A warning: make sure your legs are in shape before you go. I like to think I'm reasonably fit and usually have to walk for a long, long time before getting to a point where my legs just won't go another step, but that happened more than once. The island is mostly steep ascents, and if you decide to walk (and really, why would you do anything else?), it's going to be tough. But you can see the reward you'll get here in these pictures. This is a small initial selection, much more to come later.

I was in Pompei very briefly — just a single day, on the way to and from Vesuvius. That was much less than the four years I estimate it will take me to visit its famous ruins, given that my mind lives more in the Roman empire than in whatever this “real” life is, next time I'm there.

But that was more than compensated by a visit to Pontificio Santuario della Beata Vergine del Santo Rosario, Pompei's cathedral. Its paintings, relatively recent (most from the 19th century) and recently renovated, along with its bright environment (finally some decent pictures!) are a unique opportunity to experience what the masterworks which can be seen elsewhere would have looked like when they were fresh.

Which is not to demean the art there: it is one of the most beautiful cathedrals I've visited.

Vesuvius rises 1281m on the coast of the gulf of Napoli. In 79 AD it destroyed, in one of the most catastrophic eruptions in recorded history, many surrounding Roman cities. Up to 1.5t of material were expelled per second, in clouds 33km high, releasing 100,000 times the energy of the 1945 atomic bombings. The mountains surrounding the caldera are the remnants of the original, much higher (2km) Monte Somma, destroyed by that eruption.

Pyroclastic surges, extremely hot (300°C) clouds of gas and rocks moving at more than 100m/s, annihilated buildings and victims in seconds. Other cities were buried, such as Herculaneum, covered by 23m of surge material.

Historian Tacitus relates an account by Pliny the Younger. His uncle hears his friends from Stabiae can only escape by sea and sails to their rescue. When asked, in the infernal destruction at the shore, if they should retreat, he responds with the famous Latin proverb: “fortes fortuna iuvat: Pomponianum pete”, fortune favors the brave, steer to Pomponianum. He perished while attempting the rescue. It is not recorded if his friends did. I highly recommend these two letters.

The Greek warrior Ὀδυσσεύς/Odysseús/Ulysses sails the Tyrrhenian Sea in his journey returning from the Trojan War. He passes the Italian coast by the island of the Sirens, beautiful female sea creatures who lure men to their death with their voices and music. With counsel from the goddess and sorcerer Circe, he is able to escape the enchantment, and proceeds his travels, through the underworld of ᾍδης/Hades.

One of the Sirens, Παρθενόπη/Parthenópe (παρθένος + ὄψ, “the maiden-voiced”) throws herself into the sea for being unable to enchant him, and is carried to the shore on the island of Megaride. Later, when Greek settlers of Magna Graecia founded a city there, they named it after her. This “new city”, the Νεάπολις/Neápolis as it came to be known later, would become the central axis of the Greco-Roman world.

It is much different from other Italian cities such as Roma or Milano, it takes some time to get used to. But there is enough heart-achingly beautiful art and spectacular nature (those will have to wait for another post) to make sure that happens.

Gaeta, a coastal city in the Riviera d'Ulisse, in the Southern end of Lazio, built on the tip of Torre di Orlando, a promontory formed at the feet of the Monti Aurunci. Aeneas, in Virgil's Aeneid, buries his wet-nurse, Καιήτη, in this place while sailing the Lazio, giving the city its name.

Human settlements go as far as the XII-XIII centuries B.C., first inhabited by the Aurunci, then by the Romans, when it was a common destination of emperors and the nobility, with its position on the via Appia, one of the main imperial roads, connecting Rome to Brundisium in the South. It was also a strategic location in the Risorgimento and the Second World War.

Com uma parceria inesperada para trilhas, @maiconferro_tattoo.

The equally small comune of Santi Cosma e Damiano is situated right next to Castelforte, on the same hillside overlooking the Garigliano valley and the gulf of Gaeta (but don't mix the two towns, or you'll upset the locals on both sides). There is a stony road which climbs almost to the top of the hill, the highest point in the surrounding area, the village of Ventosa and its 12th-century Romanesque watch tower, with a view of not only the valley and the vastness of the gulf, but stretching all the way to monte Cairo in the north, monti Aurunci in the west, Roccamonfina to the east, and going as far as Vesuvius and the island of Ischia in the south-east when the weather is sufficiently clear.

Having moved to a larger city now (much larger, but thankfully not without a few places like this), to this day I miss being able to retreat to one of those hilltops with just a fifteen-minute walk, away from everything and everyone (except for meeting the occasional horses, goats, or other animals along the trails), contemplating the sunrise or the sunset, or simply enjoying the winter sun and the view of mountains, rivers, seas, forests which have seen some of the largest empires on Earth come and go.

Minturnae was one of the major ancient city of the Αὔσονες/Auruncí, who inhabited the mountainous regions near the Gulf of Gaeta. It was conquered by Rome in 314 B.C and completely destroyed, but later reconstructed as a Roman settlement and frequented by the nobility, as were the other villae maritimae on the Tyrrhenian coast: Formiae, Pirae, and Cáiéta.

See the previous post for the modern (or less-ancient) parts of the city. More importantly for someone such as myself is that preserved there are the ruins of the Roman city, abandoned in the 6th century A.D. after its aqueduct was interrupted by the invading Lombards, with its capitolium, fora, temples, thermae, and theater with capacity for four thousand people.

On the road leading from the city center — called even today “via Appia” and closely following the “régína viárum” which connected Rome to Brundisium passing through the heart of the ancient city — can be seen the remains of the aqueduct which stretched 11km and brought water from the monte Aurunci to the coast.

Castelforte is a small comune in the Garigliano valley. It is where Suio (see previous post) is contained and together with it, as the name suggests, served as a protective and vigilant center for the entire valley, from the surrounding mountains down to the delta of the river in the gulf of Gaeta.

This is a region of immense beauty and I never got tired of walking around it, on its small rural roads passing through rows and rows of olive trees, or along the trails (and often outside of them) crossing the many hills and mountains there. In particular, in this period of winter, the sun rising from behind monte Massico and setting in the gulf was a spectacle I watched — as you'll see — as often as I could.

A trail up the Garigliano valley towards the oriental Aurunci mountains — an area at the border between Lazio and Campania populated since pre-Roman times due to its marble, limestone, and thermal waters — and a sunset in the gulf of Gaeta in the Tyrrhenian sea.

While putting together the page from the last post and going through my photograph archive, I was caught yet again by these ones and put it on my list to share them, since they are some of my favorites among all the pictures I've ever taken.

The background here is last year, by some (not-so-)“simple twist of fate”, I found myself going from Istanbul to my home town in the south of Brazil. The flight schedule (these were taken around mid-afternoon local time), path, and the weather combined to offer a pretty spectacular bird's-eye view (though this bird would have to be flying very high) of the Mediterranean sea, in particular the Aegean and Ionian seas, and the areas surrounding it.

I hope Turkish Airlines enjoys the free publicity — it was a very good flight, anyway.

Βυζάντιον / Κωνσταντινούπολη / εἰς τὴν Πόλιν

Thousands of years of history, a mixture of Greek, Roman, Ottoman, Western and Eastern cultures, and marvelous places, natural and man-made.

I hope to return here someday for a longer stay.

(I can now also claim to have officially been to Asia)

How can you not love a place where you can walk into a public garden and find a temple to the Greek Fates and passages from Aeneas' journey through Hades from Virgil's Aeneid?

(a bit unexpected to post again, but Italy is just a fantastic place)

Magnifica Trento, sotto le Alpi. With a few bonus photographs from Padova and Bologna.

A nubilous but spectacular walk along the Adriatic coast.

Trieste / Opicina / Prosecco / Miramare / Barcola

Always a delight to revisit the Repubblica Marinara and see how it's fared since the fall of the Byzantine Empire.

Parting with a dear old friend is always painful, but sometimes inevitable.