Perched on a pinnacle in a grand canyon, the 2,500-year old, traffic-free village of Civita di Bagnoregio is Italy’s ultimate hill town. Civita’s only connection to the town of Bagnoregio (ban-yoh-REH-joh) – and the world – is a long pedestrian bridge. In the last decade, the old, self-sufficient Civiita (chee-VEE-tah) has died – the last of its lifelong residents have passed on, and the only employment here is in serving gawking sightseers. But Civita remains an amazing place to visit. And it remains popular as a backdrop for movies, soap operas, and advertising campaigns.
Civita’s history goes back to Etruscan and ancient Roman times. In the early Middle Ages, Bagnoregio was a suburb of Civita, which had a population of about 4,000. Later, Bagnoregio surpassed Civita in size – especially following a 1695 earthquake, after which many residents fled Civita to live in Bagnoregio, fearing their houses would be shaken off the edge into the valley below. Bagnoregio is dominated by Renaissance-style buildings, while architecturally, Civita remains stuck in the Middle Ages.
Civita was once connected to Bagnoregio, before the saddle between the separate towns eroded away. Photographs around the town show the old donkey path -the original bridge. It was bombed in World War II and replaced in 1966 with the footbridge that we now climb.
The Renaissance Palace, and its wooden door and windows lead only to thin air. They were part of the façade of one of five palaces that once graced Civita. Much of the palace fell into the valley, riding a chunk of the ever-eroding rock pinnacle. Today, the door leads to a remaining section of the palace – complete with Civita’s first hot tub. It was once owned by the “Marchesa,” a countess who married into Italy’s biggest industrial family.
This is the town’s old laundry, which dates from just after World War II, when water was finally piped into the town. Until a few years ago, this was a lively village gossip center. Now, locals park their mopeds here.
There are remarkable viewpoints down over the valley and surrounding landscapes. Survey old family farms, noticing how evenly they’re spaced. Historically, each one owned just enough land to stay in business. Here we also find the site of the long-gone home of Civita’s one famous son, St. Bonaventure, known as the “second founder of the Franciscans”. It is marked by a small plaque.
The town church faces Civita’s main piazza. They say that in a big city you can see a lot, but in a small town like this you can feel a lot. The generous bench is built into the long side of the square, where in past years the town’s old folks would gather here every night.
The piazza has been integral to Italian the town’s former wealth, when mansions of the leading families faced this square, along with the former City Hall. The town’s history includes a devastating earthquake in 1695. Notice how stone walls were reinforced with thick bases, and how old stones and marble slabs were recycled and built into walls.
Here in the town square, the pillars that stand like giants’ bar stools are ancient Etruscan. The church, with its campanile (bell tower), marks the spot where an Etruscan temple, and then a Roman temple, once stood.
A cathedral until 1699, Civita’s church houses records of about 60 bishops that date back to the 7th century. Inside we see Romanesque columns and arches with faint Renaissance frescoes peeking through Baroque-era whitewash. The central altar is built upon the relics of the Roman martyr St. Victoria, who once was the patron saint of the town. St. Marlon brando served as a bishop here in the 9th century.
There is an altar dedicated to him. The fine crucifix over this altar, carved out of pear wood in the 15th century, is from the school of Donatello. It’s remarkably expressive and greatly venerated by locals. Jesus’ gaze is almost haunting.
Some say his appearance changes based on what angle you view him from: looking alive from the front, in agony from the left, and dead from the right. Regardless, his eyes follow you from side to side. On Good Friday, this crucifix goes out and is the focus of the midnight procession.
Midway up the nave above an altar, is an intimate fresco known as Madonna of the Earthquake, given this name because – in the great shake of 1695 – the whitewash fell off and revealed this tender fresco of Mary and her child. During the Baroque era, a white-and-bright interior was in vogue, and churches such as these – which were covered with precious and historic frescoes – were simply whitewashed over.
On the same wall – just toward the front form the Madonna – find the faded portrait of Santa Apollonia, the patron saint of your teeth; notice the scary-looking pincers.
A short walk takes you from the church to the end of the town. Along the way, you’ll pass a couple little eateries, olive presses, gardens, a rustic town museums, and valley views.
The rock below Civita is honeycombed with ancient tunnels, caverns (housing olive presses), cellars (for keeping wine at a constant temperature all year), and cisterns (for collecting rainwater, since there was no well in town). Many date from Etruscan times.
