I was in Rome but I wanted to visit the small villages of Calcata and Tuscania, both in the Lazio region (Viterbo province), and both which appear in different scenes of the film Nostalghia, by Tarkovsky.
I should confess that Nostalghia is probably one of my least favorite movies by the Russian master — the ones I really like are The Mirror and Andrei Roublev, then maybe Solaris and Stalker — but the locations are memorable, and it’s in Italy, which is easier for me to visit than Russia.
Anyway, Calcata was more interesting than I thought it would be. Italy has no shortage of top hill medieval villages, but this one is really quite unique. (Well, maybe Civita di Bagnoreggio, also in Lazio, is even more impressive, but I could not get to that one).
Calcata is just a small labyrinth of little streets on top of a volcanic rock, and seemingly with more cats than people living there, at least in winter. It has caves and breathtaking views and a population consisting mostly of artists and artisans (now most of them in their 70s or 80s) who occupied the city decades ago when it had been mostly abandoned.



And then Tuscania…
I arrived in Tuscania at night, or well, around six in the afternoon but it was already dark. It was certainly impressive at night. Where I parked, there was only a huge medieval wall, and the only seeming access was by a long stairway opening in the middle of it.
I climbed up and followed the indications to San Pietro, a Romanic church originally built in the 9th century, and still pretty well preserved. (That’s where the famous opening scene of Nostalghia was filmed, even though Tarkovsky cheats and the “Madonna del Parto” by Piero de la Francesca is not really there).
The church is quite big and located basically by itself on the top of a hill, with no other buildings around. Impressive even at a distance.
Unfortunately, when I arrived at the top of the hill, the church was already closed, and there was no one around except several cats acting as silent sentinels. In fact, the whole town seemed completely deserted and silent, except for the cats.
As I was walking back down the hill with the camera in my hand…
Well, I don’t know what happened exactly, as I didn’t feel my foot tripping or slipping anywhere. Somehow I just lost balance and fell, and pretty badly, basically rolling down the road. One of the worst falls I ever had, and at my age that can be dangerous.
I thought I would have broken my arm, not to mention my camera, but fortunately neither broke. I just had some scratches on my hand, knee and chin (I did hit the floor more than once) and the camera lost a piece of its cover, but no damage to the lens or mechanism.
Walking back to the old town, I entered the only place in the whole town that seemed to be open, a bar where I was received by a few old men sitting silently in the back and a barman with a deformed face.
I’m sorry, I’m not one to judge people’s faces, but he really looked like the hunchback of Notre Dame or some medieval cripple in movie by Tarkovsky, or, well, perhaps a B-movie director. But he was a really nice and sympathetic guy, actually. And I have no idea if his face had been burned in a domestic accident or if it was like this by birth. He didn’t seem to mind, though. He was very cheerful and chatty.
In the end, it was a memorable, almost dreamlike experience, so of course I had to stay the night — although in another nearby town, as I could not find any accommodations there — and visit the San Pietro church next day.
And, well, the church was indeed really interesting and impressive, and the town has other four or five other Romanic churches (really, I have never seen so many Romanic churches in the same place) wich are worth a visit.
But… the town itself was somehow less interesting during the day than during the night. It actually had several modern buildings, it didn’t really keep its original medieval form (as Calcata mostly did), and, besides the churches, it didn’t seem to have a lot going on. It was almost as empty during the day as during the night. In fact, at night at least there were at least several cats roaming around, but during the day I met only one cat.
Even at the bar, which I visited again at noon, the hunchback of Notre Dame was not there, replaced by a pretty but not very sympathetic woman. I suppose he works only at night…
Anyway — I really recommend a visit to this “Tuscia” region in Lazio. The word Tuscia — like Tuscania, and Tuscany (although, confusingly, Tuscania is not located in Tuscany, but close to it) — comes from the Roman word “Tusci” meaning the Etruscans, who lived in this area eons ago.
















