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| A haven for the soul | |
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Entering the territory of Sorano from the surrounding plains, you feel as though you have entered another world. The erosions caused by water, the crumbling of the tufaceous cliffs, together with the work of man, have created a unique fantasy landscape - something almost unreal which transports the visitor beyond time and space. Dozens of tufaceous bluffs and peaks, of varied and bizarre shapes, are scattered along the valley of the Lente river. On one of those peaks rises the town of Sorano, stretching crosswise out over the valley, resembling the wall of a dam. Over the centuries, the blocks of tufaceous rock from which the houses are built have taken on the same color of the bedrock on which the village stands so that the houses appear to have been carved from the rock by a the hand of a giant sculptor. Down below flows the Lente river, calm and crystal clear- home to herons greedy for fish and sweet water shrimp.
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In the valley, today an archaeological park, hidden in the woods of oak, chestnut, and ilex trees, colossal masses of tufaceous rock thrust up among the branches, rock walls end in a sudden plunge, the rock face is hollowed out with the silent eye-like openings of the ancient tombs where wild boar and goats seek refuge. Half hidden by thick foliage proffering a thousand shades of green, by the bright yellow of the broom in flower, by lilacs - safe shelter for the many hedgehogs and foxes that have made their dens here -- are dozens of terraced slopes planted with fertile gardens, vineyards, and olive groves.
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Here the Etruscans carved their monumental roads. It is a moving experience today to follow those roads, still full of magic - and permeated by a natural, archaic, and powerful sense of the sacred. As you wander, you can sense the Etruscans' great love for life, not yet divided between the "sublime spirit" and "vulgar matter." They knew how to penetrate the mysteries of the great mother earth with an almost instinctive intuition which we call divination. Then, when their time was up, they joyously accompanied the body on its return to the immense womb.
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This would seem to have been the function of these splendid roads uniting the city of the living and the city of the dead, which lay beyond the river. But with the Etruscans you can never be sure of anything. They were careful not to leave indelible traces. Indeed they seem to have passed through these places with a soft tread and a delicate and sensitive touch. Little remains - but their benevolent presence still lingers, along with an aura of protection, and above all their enigmatic smile. It is this same - almost challenging smile - appearing on the lips of the Etruscan Apollo and of many of their statues and frescoes which has survived through time, despite all the invasions, to reappear more discreetly on the lips of the Mona Lisa. You still see it today, on the faces of their descendants, beneath their high cheek bones.
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This penchant for carving out the womb of the earth- no longer the mother goddess- has survived through the centuries - perhaps in obedience to a tradition, or out of necessity, or maybe because the rock here yields more easily. Hollowed in the rock here you find not only the famous tombs, but entire areas of rock dwellings, hermitages, and convents, ceramic and carpentry workshops, dovecots, sheep folds, and barns for donkeys, once the indispensable companions of man's labor. Today the grottoes that line the roads to the village have been transformed into garages for "apetti," buzzing three-wheeled vehicles. You'll see them set off early in the morning for a days work, with a peasant driving and often his wife beside him, a hunting dog in the back, only to return again in the evening, heavily laden, the donkey of our times, carrying firewood, or grapes in the time of the grape harvest, or fruit, vegetables, or flowers picked in season from the gardens.
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To visit Sorano is to immerse oneself in the warm atmosphere embracing the whole history of humanity. In the course of a simple walk through the area, you wander from bronze age grottoes, Renaissance palaces, mysterious streets, and Etruscan necropolises, to dark subterranean passages of the imposing fortress, from the medieval village carved in rock to the leafy uncontaminated woods surrounding the village.
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Spending a few days in Sorano isn't just a vacation. It is above all an experience which will deeply touch your heart and spirit, like a ray of sunshine warming the seeds that will find here the proper conditions to sprout.
This is a magic and hospitable land - volcanic and tranquil, wild and sweet. Here dwells something inexpressible and magnetic which preserves it from any form of pollution.
Naturally this is not perceptible to everyone. In fact, it isn't unusual to hear distracted tourists
say, " Let's go. There's nothing here." And then rush off to other towns with noisy restaurants, brightly lit windows, discos, and perhaps , flat roads. The secret appeal of Sorano knows how to defend itself by becoming imperceptible.
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If you try to "sense" this place, rather than just glancing at it for just ten brief seconds - that brief span of time we normally allow ourselves for looking at a landscape, for we are prey to a greediness which causes us rush on to the next image- thing,-- if you stop and look with the tranquillity of those who are not always hurrying, anxious to "see everything" - thereby escaping from themselves --- you will discover that Sorano is not only a splendid landscape, but a world vibrating in harmony with something hidden deep in your soul.
We are in the land of the Tirsens, as they called themselves, cradle and refuge of the last sacred civilization. From this earth life springs, in this land of secret rites and daily rituals, with rich volcanic soil and sacred woods, bathed by gushing torrents and streams.
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“The whole thing small and dainty in proportion, and fresh, somehow charming instead of impressive. There seems to have been in the Etruscan instinct a real desire to preserve the natural humour of life. And that is a task surely more worthy, and even much more difficult in the long run, than conquering the world or sacrificing the self or saving the immortal soul....” D.H. Lawrence, Etruscans Places.
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