 Orvieto is a city I visited with my family in the spring of 2022, and it was the last stop on a tour that took us to several cities in Umbria. By last, I mean literally, because the city was located in the south of the region, so we decided to visit it, also using it as a rest stop on our way home. I won't deny that until shortly before visiting Orvieto, I knew nothing about the city, but what I discovered during that time piqued my curiosity. It was thanks to an Italian science communicator, a “son of an art”, a very intelligent and knowledgeable person, but one I don't particularly respect. I consider him, along with others of his ilk, a character whose role is to disseminate only part of the scientific truth and alter or even invent a narrative that never existed. What I like about him is a characteristic I can interpret that the masses cannot: a wry smile he always uses when explaining and introducing topics. For me, that smile is a way of mocking, as if to say, "I know the truth, but now I'm telling you nonsense." However, he is a very knowledgeable person, and it goes without saying that in his programs he always manages to talk about unique and beautiful places. During his program on Orvieto, thanks to him, I discovered the beautiful cathedral, which in style was very similar to that of Florence, and “Pozzo di San Patrizio”, a structure very similar to the “Poço Iniciático” in Sintra, Portugal. These two places were absolutely worth visiting, and in my heart I was deeply regretting not having discovered them earlier. To the well-known science communicator, even if forced by higher-ups to stick to the official narrative, his suggestions are nevertheless high-quality and always contain some grain of truth. I recognize that I visited Orvieto thanks to him, even though my principles will never make me respect a class that knows the truth but doesn't spread it, and at the same time considers itself superior or more intelligent than the masses. The masses have been indoctrinated by school, but within them there are people whose intuition and logic are not easy to manipulate. The road to Orvieto's historic center was a series of curves that led us from the valley up the hill to this city perched on a plateau. Just as I had in Perugia, in Orvieto I found a parking lot just outside the historic center, very close to St. Patrick's Well, the first thing I wanted to see in the city. The well was located in a small park, and we reached it with a short walk. To be honest, our exploration took a long time, as it was already past noon when we arrived in front of the well. It goes without saying that while this well was new to my family, for me it directly paralleled the Initiatory Well of Sintra. This latter structure, in fact, had a completely different charm than the one in Orvieto. From the outside, St. Patrick's Well was a structure built of regular bricks, with a perfect round shape, and in fact looked like a structure that could possibly house a shop. Outside, there was a beautiful paving leading up to it, and the entire surrounding area was well-maintained, with a high parapet overlooking the valley. It was a touristy, well-served area, and even those unfamiliar with the well were drawn to the circular structure at its center. The Initiation Well of Sintra, on the other hand, was inside what was once a private residence built within a vast natural area. That residence was called Quinta da Regalera, and the well was nestled among trees and dirt paths. When I visited, if it weren't for the crowds queuing, the well would have been difficult to discern, appearing as a series of irregularly cut boulders stacked one on top of the other to form an asymmetrical structure that looked more natural than artificial. From the outside, the Initiation Well was pure magic; St. Patrick's was a circular brick structure that, despite having a lived-in look, didn't seem all that ancient. Unlike the well in Sintra, which had a ramp descending nine levels, St. Patrick's well was built with two independent helical ramps. It is said that it was designed this way so that the mules could carry water without getting in each other's way. Personally, I don't believe in such a thing, but today the two separate ramps are used as an entrance and exit: one ramp leads down and the other up. Looking out over the well immediately after entering, I must say I had the same feeling I had in Sintra: the brick construction, the various windows, and the bottom that was barely visible. Even when I went down myself, I didn't realize that the people I passed on the opposite side were actually on another ramp. I must say that my father, despite not knowing the structure of the well, immediately noticed the two independent ramps. The descent was fascinating. My sister and I stopped every now and then to take photos between levels until the bottom of the well slowly came into view, where an iron platform passed over the water, effectively connecting the two staircases. The descent didn't actually take long, and once on the platform I took the opportunity to take more photos with an upward perspective, seeking perfect symmetry with the circle and the windows. What was missing at the bottom of the well was the magic that existed in Sintra. Where the well ended, a fairytale journey began through a tunnel that then led to what seemed like another world. I don't know if there was a secret door or entrance in St. Patrick's Well. I honestly didn't notice, but in hindsight, I have some doubts. The fact is, there was no magic of mystery or passage to another reality. Once you reached the bottom of St. Patrick's Well, you essentially walked through it and then climbed back up the other staircase. I made the climb back up, helping my mother, both because of the effort and the danger of the uneven steps, and in fact, I didn't take any photos during this, let's say, more delicate and helpful phase. The entire visit to the well lasted about forty minutes, which wasn't excessive considering the difficulty of the site and the fact that we were traveling with two older people. In the end, the visit to the well made everyone happy because it was truly an original structure, a type no one in my family had ever seen. My father in particular was very surprised at how such structures could be built in ancient times. Personally, my solution is that we aren't really the most advanced civilization; it's the elite that rules the world, who make us believe this after manipulating history and simultaneously enslaving us to an evil economic system. As for me, I enjoyed the well and the experience shared with the people I care about, but I consider the Initiatory Well something much more beautiful and poetic, an experience I highly recommend.  Pozzo di San Patrizio      Bottom of Pozzo di San Patrizio  After visiting the well, we walked back to the parking lot and took the central Via Cavour, which led us into the city center. There, I noticed how Orvieto was bustling with school trips as well as tourists of all kinds. Aesthetically, the historic center was consistent with cities of a certain historical period, with houses built with exposed brick, although many had been plastered over, thus removing their true character. Like all ancient historic centers, the houses were closely packed together, and the main street, paved with square cobblestones, was narrow but never felt stifling despite the large crowds. After 1 PM, we stopped for lunch outside a very characteristic restaurant, and our spot was right next to a stone archway that wasn't particularly large but was beautiful and evocative. I personally ate a plate of typical pasta, which was clearly delicious. Beyond anything else, the best thing about Italy was the quality of its food, and when you choose to eat pasta in this country, you can rarely go wrong. Lunch lasted over an hour, after which we set off towards the most important and arguably most beautiful landmark in the city: the cathedral, also known as the Cathedral Basilica of Santa Maria Assunta. We reached the cathedral via a very narrow street, which afforded glimpses of the basilica, creating a very strange perspective. The cathedral occasionally emerged through the irregular geometry of the closely spaced houses. After a few steps, however, arriving in the middle of the square opened up a view of the immense basilica, and I personally felt as if I were witnessing something unreal. I probably had this reaction due to the basilica's proportions, both in themselves and in relation to the size of the square. The square was very wide, especially at the sides, so the almost profile view gave me the sensation of an alien structure. The cathedral's façade seemed foreign to the rest of the structure, and this was because it was like a perfectly perpendicular wall, decidedly higher than the rear. The effect reminded me of the Library of Celsus in Ephesus, because there the façade was the only part of the structure left standing. Even in style, while the cathedral's façade had perpendicular lines, the rest of the structure featured horizontal lines created by rows of bricks punctuated by black and white. Besides the structure's grandeur, my subconscious probably immediately registered these anomalies, giving me the sensation of something strange, which I later studied rationally. The façade, seen frontally and centrally, was undoubtedly a masterpiece. For me, it was an immense open-air painting, beautiful in its symmetry, colors, and probably meanings that needed to be codified by studying them up close. The façade had four walls of bas-reliefs to the sides of the central door, and gradually ascending, the mosaics were arranged in a pyramidal configuration of three, two, and one. Three were above the door arches, two to the sides of the rose window, and one above it, all dominated by symbolic triangular and semicircular shapes. Especially the perfect triangle at the top, containing the giant mosaic of the Coronation of the Madonna, was a perfect triangle, a symbol of balance, power, and action that rose above everything else. As I mentioned before, Orvieto was packed with tourists, especially day trippers like myself. This phenomenon peaked in the cathedral area, which was decidedly overcrowded that day. Personally, I focused more on taking photos to analyze later, but I wasn't happy with them, as I shot with an ultra-wide-angle lens. This was because I wanted the entire cathedral in a single frame, forgetting that these structures hide secrets in details that, while seemingly small compared to the size of the entire structure, are still quite large in themselves.      Cathedral Basilica of Santa Maria Assunta    Around 3 PM, after purchasing our ticket, we entered the cathedral. The impression was truly captivating, thanks to the sense of space and the large, mostly circular columns, whose sequence drew the gaze straight to the presbytery. The colonnade on both sides supported a series of arches, and the alternating black and white bricks they were made of maintained the horizontal design, just like the exterior. What left me doubtful, however, was that I didn't particularly appreciate the roof structure, which was made of wood and therefore devoid of any frescoes. The roof, in fact, was a very simple structure that couldn't have been embellished with the addition of decorations. Overall, after a first glance, the interior of the cathedral confirmed my impression that the façade and the interior of the basilica were like two distinct works of art. Although the official history, which claimed the cathedral was built over a period of approximately three hundred years, still didn't explain the duality of design, for me. However, what had not been done on the roof was compensated for in two parts of the cathedral. The presbytery itself had frescoes on three sides that were impressive because they extended so far, especially in height. The three walls, along with the cross-vaulted ceiling, were filled with frescoes that told stories and elevated the space to something far more complex and mysterious, as well as aesthetically beautiful. The other space that compensated for the simplicity of the roof was the chapel of San Brizio, where we had to wait a bit to enter. This chapel, though not very large, was practically an endless series of frescoes that began from the lower parts of the side walls and extended toward the ceiling, also made of cross-vaulted ceilings. As often happens in these cases, it is very difficult to grasp all the stories told in the images, and personally, inside the chapel, after taking a general look, I tried to photograph them for later study. In these cases, however, the geometries and curves that were and are present in similar structures, especially in the roof area, created distortions in the images that are often even more difficult and strange to study in photographs. It must be said that when I find myself faced with such a varied array of frescoes, I always find some scenes that strike me more than others and at least I can isolate them. Personally, rather than studying the historical version of certain frescoes, I like, or would like, to study them in person, perhaps without the suffocating presence of other people. Only in that way can I capture the most interesting images to photograph and perhaps study in more depth. Nonetheless, I still managed to capture images that are the ones that most instinctively attract me. Very often, in fact, I am struck by large buildings with structural complexity located in the middle of nowhere, where many people interact, often in a sort of battle. Inside the basilica there was a fresco of this kind and normally these imposing buildings are always in the background but with an aura of grandeur and dominion. The tour inside the basilica lasted about half an hour, and we lingered outside for the same amount of time. I personally continued taking photos of the basilica since everyone had already left. Our last moments in Orvieto were spent walking back to the car and then heading home. Focusing primarily on a visit to St. Patrick's Well and the Cathedral of Santa Maria Assunta, our exploration of Orvieto was further proof that things seen in person always take on a different form and offer different impressions and stimuli. For example, regarding the well; having seen a similar one, I would never have been able to accurately imagine it because it was always influenced by the Sintra Well. The cathedral is one of those works that, when seen in person, offers an experience that is indescribable and that no photo or video can perfectly represent. Impressive structures, in particular, have a certain direct influence on the subconscious; there's a sort of hidden connection that manifests itself the moment we see them in person. For me, Orvieto was above all this: a pleasant day spent in close contact with the mystery of its architectural works and a special connection that was created with them, all shared with the people I care about most.   The presbytery  Frescos above the presbytery   chapel of San Brizio      A.M.
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