The Sorrento Cathedral is a large, airy building near the
center of the old quarter. It is not particularly notable as grand cathedrals
go, but by the entrance to its dim interior are several panels depicting
religious scenes, of such finely-wrought detail that the expressions on faces,
the folds of clothing and details of the background landscape in perspective
are evident. The panels are rendered in
varying shades of brown, because they are not painted or embroidered, but are
wood marquetry, the ancient craft of applying wood inlay in decorative
patterns.
Wood marquetry became popular in the town of Sorrento in the
eighteenth century, in response to the increased numbers of people visiting the
town, because even back then, it was already well-known as a resort town and
tourist destination. And it has been so
ever since.
Just by the Sorrento cathedral is a narrow pedestrian lane
called Via Pieta, bordered on both sides by tall buildings, with ancient stone
doorways of varying architectural styles and decoration. A walk down the lane,
past the restaurants, cafes and closed doors to hidden private courtyards, is a
short history lesson of the many influences in the long history of the
town.
Off Via Pieta, I wandered into a narrow, twisted lane, with
laundry hanging on lines high overhead and potted plants outside private
residences. One of the doorways I passed
was open, and I peered in, for here was a wood marquetry workshop, a small niche
redolent with the smell of fresh wood, occupied by a young man whose family had
been in the business for several generations, and his one-year old Siamese cat,
Google, who was making a mess of the bits of coloured wood scattered over the
worktable. The young man was hand-assembling pieces of wood marquetry to
fulfill an order from a global fashion house which is a household brand name,
in a marriage of hand-crafted tradition and modern Italian fashion design.
On the global stage, Italy is well-known for its industrial
design and its sense of high fashion, but in southern Italy, I found the
traditional Italy of strong family pride and ties, a deep religiosity, quaint
villages basking under the Mediterranean sun, bucolic farms, and traditions of
small family-run businesses, often specializing in craft. Sorrento, just a few hundred kilometers south
of Naples, possessed much of the flavour of the sun-bathed south.
From my hotel on a low hill, I had a view of Sorrento town,
with its low roofline, the occasional dome of an old building and a church
tower or two. It sat on the Bay of
Naples, and far in the distance was the cluttered skyline of that city, beneath
the glowering silhouette of Mount Vesuvius, a dormant volcano with an explosive
disposition. Around the city of Sorrento were low hills of olive groves and
orchards of that ubiquitous, cheerful fruit, the lemon.
I could stroll down the hill, past the ancient city walls,
into the old quarter. Sorrento is a
small town of just 16,500 residents, and it takes only a few leisurely hours to
explore on foot. The old quarter is a series of narrow pedestrian alleys, a medieval
town transported into the modern era, its very antiquity inextricably bound to
its character.
It only seemed fitting that traditional crafts, such as wood
marquetry, hearkening back to an earlier era of Italian craftsmanship,
flourished in the town. Hordes of
tourists crowded the narrow alleys, with its ancient buildings, many of them converted
into cozy cafes and smart restaurants, but here also, many old businesses thrived.
Just as there were wood marquetry workshops handed down from
one generation to another, there were also small workshops cum showrooms specialising
in leather, and festooned with the items for which Sorrento is famous – ladies’
leather sandals. Elegant, light and
comfortable, customers were spoilt for choice, for they could buy a ready-made
pair, or have a pair custom-made by craftsmen squeezed into the back of the
shop, amid sheets and strips of coloured leather, while the customer waited.
Waiting didn’t have to be idle time either, for scattered
among the shops would be another traditional family business, that of the
gelateria. Considerably modernized, I came
across gelaterias dating from the mid-1800s, offering flavours as varied as
Ferrero-Rocher, besides traditional favourites such as pistachio, orange, and
of course, lemon.
Not for no reason is Sorrento called the city of oranges and
lemons, for the citrus fruits are ubiquitous in backyards and orchards around
the town. Lemons, with their bright
colour, decorated restaurant interiors, bulged from baskets at vegetable and
fruit stalls, and were a feature of daily life, with one of the traditions being
a lemon liquor common to the region, and called limoncello.
Many restaurants brewed their own limoncello, which were
offered to customers as a digestif after a heavy meal, and there were small
shops in the back alleys bright with the colour yellow. These were also generational family run
businesses based on the fruit. They sold limoncello drinks, sweets,
concentrates, chocolates, scents and perfumes, and some had even branched out
into meloncellos, a melon-based liquer.
Besides the endless distraction of the shops, the narrow
streets held a charm of their own, for there were stories to be told. The marks on the frame of a stone doorway
told of close encounters with traffic when horse-carts and carriages travelled
these narrow streets. Every now and then, a resident would emerge or enter one
of the many private residences on the street, and the door of an old building
would open briefly, providing a tantalizing glimpse of elegant, tiled
courtyards with potted plants, carved stone arches and sweeping flights of
stairs. What magnificence or what
squalor lurked behind those inscrutable, closed doors?
There were also the grand establishments on the alleys, usually
old churches and cathedrals with aged, carved exteriors and cavernous,
embellished interiors. Stepping into one of them was like a refuge from the
hubbub of the streets, because it would be suddenly dim and quiet within, while
my eyes adjusted to the sanctuary-silence, of soaring majesty in architecture
and grand frescos on the walls and ceiling, mute statues with sightless eyes,
the vault-like space penetrated by shafts of sunlight from windows set high in
the walls. The churches were centuries old, with one of the oldest, nestled at
the end of a quiet street, dating from the 14th century.
Sorrento celebrated its history, for the old quarter was festooned
at night with festive lights. One evening, actors dressed in period costume
paraded through the streets, preceded by a couple of drummers, also dressed for
the occasion. Nearby where I was having
dinner, a minstrel in costume serenaded a lady within a building with a
stringed instrument, while she, dressed in the flowing robes of a medieval era,
responded in the high pitched octave of an opera singer. For a fixed price, a visitor could sample a
variety of cooking representative of the medieval era at a number of temporary
stalls set up in various parts of the old quarter, the whole arrangement being
set up by the town authorities as a street festival.
Walking past the old quarter brought me to the edge of town,
at the top of the cliff overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Below were the harbours of Sorrento, Marina
Piccolo and Marina Grande, which was where the fast ferries departed on a
regular basis for the holiday islands of Capri and Ischia, as well as other destinations
on the Amalfi coast.
The cliffs presented a natural defence for the town, as did
the deep gullies of the terrain on which the town was built. The most evident of these ran through the
heart of town, near where the old quarter ended at Piazza Tasso, the town
square. Overlooking the harbor on one
side, the other side of the square plunged suddenly and precipitously into a
gully overgrown with plants and trees. Water from a clear stream splashed over
rocks at the bottom of the gully, which was a verdant paradise in the very
heart of town. Creepers and plants
sprouted from abandoned buildings in the gully below, while just immediately
above, cars, buses and motorcycles of the modern world made their way along the
road.
Tasso Square, named after a famous poet who was born in
Sorrento in the 16th century, demarcated the old section of town
from the newer section, where the railway terminus was located. From Sorrento, it was just an hour away by a
local train which circumnavigated the bay, stopping at small towns along the
way, to bustling Naples city. The
remnants of the old city wall ran along one border of the old quarter, a
reminder of times past when the town was besieged and under attack.
A tourist town for centuries, Sorrento continues to enjoy
fame as a preferred destination for travelers. Initially, the attraction of
Sorrento is not obvious, and even after a short stay, it’s difficult to pin
down, but this small Italian town by the Bay of Naples, which is attached to,
but not mired in its past, exerts a slow charm spell on the visitor that
lingers long after the visit has ended.
No comments:
Post a Comment