This is the 13th installment of the monthly Italy Blogging Roundtable, a project organized by travel writing powerhouse Jessica Spiegel, and including professional travel writer Melanie Renzulli, art historian and general brainiac Alexandra Korey, Tuscan uber-blogger Gloria, and me. (If you missed the previous months, take a look here.) Please, pull up a chair to our Roundtable, have some lemon bars, and join in on the conversation.
There are some experiences in life which inevitably unite humans in a strange, heterogeneous brotherhood. Childbirth (especially painful). The extraction of wisdom teeth (especially painful). War (no painless version there). And natural disaster.
Two earthquakes shook the ground in Emilia Romagna at the end of May, killing 26, injuring hundreds, leaving around 16,000 temporarily homeless (most are holed up in tent cities and public buildings), and causing billions of euros of damage, numbers which indicate.both property damage and damage to the economy in one of Italy’s most wealthiest regions. A leader in the food, manufacturing, biochemical, and automotive industries, Emilia Romagna’s various centers of production were effectively brought to their knees as factories and warehouses collapsed and many of those remaining standing were deemed too unstable for employees to enter.
It seems strange that one of Italy’s most developed regions would be caught so offguard, but Emilia Romagna was never considered a region at particular seismic risk—their last major earthquake was about five centuries ago—unlike other regions of Italy, where the ground shakes on a more-or-less regular basis. Umbria, my adopted home for the past two decades, is one of the areas in this unstable boot where minor earthquakes are felt frequently. And it was the citizens of this region, 300 kilometers south of the epicenter, which I found glued to television screens and newspaper pages for the past three weeks, reliving the terror and powerlessness of waking to your bed shaking, your walls crumbling, and your children calling for you in the dark.
Umbria had her own devastating earthquake in 1997, which killed 10 (one a friend) and left thousands sleeping in tents and trailers. The damage amounted to less economically than what the Emilia Romagna earthquake will leave in its wake (Umbria’s economy is significantly smaller), but the damage to historic monuments and irreplaceable artistic treasures—including some of the frescoes inside the Basilica of Saint Francis–was enormous. But most heartbreaking, and what I hope will not be repeated over the next decade (to be realistic) of rebuilding in Emilia Romagna, was the damage to the social fabric in so many small hilltown communities.
The historic centers of Umbria had been emptying out for decades, as modern, more user-friendly suburbs popped up in the valleys…close to workplaces and transportation, full of public green spaces and parks for kids, offering the shops and services that are often absent in the old centers. With the earthquake, the few remaining families and elderly who had held out in the town centers moved to safe shelter outside…and many simply never moved back. The earthquake in Umbria was not so much a natural disaster than a social one, as communities unravelled and have no way of building themselves back up. These centers are full of empty houses, itinerant renters, and—in the lucky tourist centers—B&Bs. Assisi, once a teeming center of thousands, now holds less than a thousand…on winter nights it can seem a ghost town.
An excellent example of this is Nocera Umbra, a pretty little stone town in the Appennine foothills that was once a bustling hub. Almost the entire historic center was devastated by the earthquake in 1997 and most was sealed off as the long wait for funds for rebuilding began. Now, 15 years on, most of the center is still empty…homes and stores either not yet restored or restored but standing empty. Most of those who once lived in the center live in drab, prefab housing containers at the foot of otherwise lovely, rolling hills. The whole area has a forlorn, soul-less look about it and leaves me heartsick every time I visit.
While many Umbrians followed the news and exclaimed over the collapsing houses and endless tent cities, I was mourning a quieter, less dramatic disaster. The National Guard, the Red Cross, the volunteers, the politicians, the media…thousands have swept onto the scene and are seeing to the immediate needs of the citizens. But of the long-term damage to the social fabric of their communities? This is the real damage, these are the real costs.
Want to give a hand to the folks in Emilia Romagna? Take a look here and at the practical tips and suggestions from Alexandra, Gloria, Melanie, and Jessica.