Manoppello is a charming village at the foot of Mount Majella, best known for Il Volto Santo, which attracts numerous pilgrims every year. In the post-war years, however – like so many villages and towns in southern Italy – the village was severely affected by high unemployment and widespread poverty, forcing many to emigrate in search of work and a better life. To Belgium, for example, to the mines in Marcinelle, a small town near Charleroi. It was there that, in 1956, Belgium’s worst mining disaster – and one of the worst in European mining history – took place. On 8 August 1956, a fire broke out in the Le Bois du Cazier coal mine. This led to a disaster in which 262 people of twelve different nationalities lost their lives, including 136 Italians. Sixty of them were from Abruzzo, and of those, twenty-three were from Manoppello (PE). "They’re all dead bodies" In 1946, the Belgian government had signed an agreement with the Italian government in Rome: 50,000 Italian workers would come to work in the Belgian coal mines in exchange for the right of first refusal on 200 kilograms of coal per miner per day, a deal that Italy desperately needed for the recovery of its economy. Belgium needed the workers, as fewer and fewer Belgians were willing to go down the shafts. But the coal was essential for the recovery of its own economy. That is why they went across the Alps to recruit workers. Attracted by attractive wages, promises of a pension and paid holidays, some 303 convoys of Italians arrived in Belgium between 1946 and 1957, destined for the mines. More than 140,000 workers, over 17,000 women and nearly 29,000 children. The men were sent down into the mine shafts without any preparation. On 8 August 1956, the Italian miner Antonio Ianetta placed a fully loaded coal wagon into the lift cage. Another small wagon was already inside, and it could not be removed. When the lift cage was suddenly raised, the wagons dislodged a beam, which in turn severed the telephone lines, two high-voltage cables and the oil and pressure pipes. The short circuit caused a fierce fire to break out almost instantly. The ventilation system allowed toxic gases to spread to other mine shafts. Ianetta and six others managed to reach the surface at 8.25 am. But then the lift cables snapped: the miners on the morning shift were trapped. Fifteen hours later, a further six survivors were found. The rescue operation continued until 23 August, until the last tunnel had been searched and the rescuers emerged with the message: “Tutti cadaveri” (“They are all corpses”). The last glimmer of hope for the women who had been waiting by the gate for weeks for a sign of life was thus swept away in two words. It was not until 17 December 1956 that the last remains were recovered. The final toll was 262 dead from 12 nationalities, including 136 Italians. Twenty-three were from a single village in Abruzzo: Manopello, in the province of Pescara. A total of sixty of the dead were from Abruzzo, 22 from Apulia, 12 from the Marche, 7 from Molise and 4 from Calabria. There were 95 Belgians among the dead, of whom around thirty were Flemish. The true cause of the disaster Shortly after the disaster, Antonio Ianetta was immediately blamed. Fearing for his life, he was sent to Canada, where he died on 11 February 2012. The only person ultimately convicted was Adolphe Calicis, the mine’s ‘directeur des travaux’. In 1961, he received a six-month suspended sentence and a fine for maintaining a system in which signals could be misinterpreted. In reality, the question of blame was more complex. The infrastructure of the mine in Marcinelle was outdated in every respect. The hydraulic system in Marcinelle still ran on oil, whilst many other mines had already switched to water. The mine shafts and connecting doors were made of wood and not (yet) of steel. Nevertheless, Marcinelle complied with the legal requirements of the time. It was only after the disaster that safety regulations were thoroughly revised. After the disaster The Italian government immediately terminated its immigration agreement with Belgium. The 136 Italian fatalities were 136 too many. Thus, the Marcinelle disaster brought an end to a long-standing wave of Italian immigration to Belgium. Meanwhile, work at the Marcinelle mine simply continued, albeit at a slower pace. No one wanted to work there any longer, but there were no jobs to be found elsewhere either. The mine was officially closed on 15 January 1961. However, during the closure and decommissioning, the miners stumbled upon a new, rich seam of coal and work resumed. In December 1967, the mine where the disaster occurred was closed for good. The mine now serves as a museum and memorial site. Manoppello and Marcinelle In Manoppello, the disaster is still commemorated every year. In August 2016, sixty years on, Princess Astrid of Belgium came to Manoppello to represent Belgium at the commemoration. In the centre of the village, on the remains of the cloister of a former monastery, lies a square named ‘Piazza Caduti di Marcinelle’ by the local council, where sculptures keep the memory of the disaster alive all year round. Click here for the episode of ‘Andere Tijden’ broadcast on 11 November 2003, which was devoted to the disaster.

The story of two brothers and a bar that’s part of the city Marco (75) e Franco (80) Ruggieri Caffè Europa, a familiar haunt in the heart of Sulmona On Corso Ovidio, close to Sulmona’s main square, lies a café where time has not stood still, yet has not forced itself upon the place either. Caffè Europa is neither a carefully designed retro bar nor an establishment that tries to present itself as ‘authentic’ with historical photographs and nostalgic inscriptions. The café simply is authentic. Over the years, it has been adapted where necessary, but has largely remained what it has been for decades: a familiar meeting place for the people of Sulmona. Behind the bar stand the brothers Francesco Paolo – Franco – and Marco Ruggieri. Franco is eighty, Marco seventy-five. They have been working here since their youth. In 1964, the café came into their family’s possession, but the building and the business itself are older. The building was completed by Caroselli in the years following the Second World War, after work had been interrupted during the war. When the Ruggieri family took over the café, the brothers were still young. Marco was about twelve. Their sister also helped out in the business at first, until she got married and later took up an administrative post at the local health service. Franco and Marco stayed on. Initially, this wasn’t necessarily set in stone for the rest of their lives. As long as the family were renting the premises, they could, in theory, still walk away from it. But when the brothers bought the café in the 1980s, that changed. ‘That’s when we really took on a commitment,’ says Franco. From that moment on, it was clear that Caffè Europa would continue to shape their lives. Hardly changed Anyone entering the café won’t see an interior that’s been designed to look old. Much of it is genuinely old. The layout has remained largely the same, and parts of the floor, the wall coverings and the furniture also date back to earlier periods. That’s precisely what appeals to me. In many Italian cities, cafés like this are slowly disappearing or being converted into modern bars with a décor that might just as easily be found in Milan, Amsterdam or New York. Caffè Europa, on the other hand, is unmistakably linked to Sulmona. The fact that the café has retained its original character does not mean that Franco and Marco have stopped making improvements. On the contrary: despite their age, they continue to invest in the business. Behind the main bar are several rooms, including a few billiards rooms. One of these rooms is currently being restored. In the past, people not only played billiards there but also played cards a great deal. For a long time, the billiards rooms were a world unto themselves. The games were played seriously, and in the past a famous billiards player even performed there. Such players used to travel from café to café to give demonstrations. An establishment with a suitable billiards table would make its space available; visitors would pay an entrance fee and come to watch the champion’s skills. People still play the game today, although customs have changed. Traditional billiards requires a great deal of technique and concentration; simpler forms of the game have become popular with a wider audience. The smoking ban also had an impact. A billiards player could pop outside for a moment between turns, Franco explains. It was different for card players: they often sat around the same table for hours on end. When smoking indoors was no longer permitted, many stopped coming. In addition, the regulars were getting older and some passed away. As a result, the halls gradually lost some of their former purpose. Yet the brothers are not letting them fall into disrepair. The restoration actually shows that, despite the uncertainty about the future, they still believe in the café. George Clooney at a table by the bar Caffè Europa also secured a modest place in film history. Scenes were shot in the café for The American, the 2010 film by Dutch director Anton Corbijn, starring George Clooney and Dutch actress Thekla Reuten. During filming, George Clooney was not sitting at a pool table, but at an ordinary table inside, close to the bar. It was only afterwards that the film crew realised the wrong page of the newspaper had been visible in the shot. To avoid having to reshoot the entire scene in Sulmona, the table was taken to Cinecittà in Rome. There, part of the shot featuring the correct newspaper page could be reshot. It’s exactly the sort of anecdote that suits Caffè Europa. An international film crew with a global superstar turned up, a simple little table then travelled to Cinecittà – and afterwards, life in the café carried on as normal. The corner of the café where George Clooney was sitting in *The American* A family business Franco and Marco don’t have strictly defined roles. Both work behind the bar, serve customers and do whatever needs doing at any given moment. ‘We’re interchangeable,’ says Franco. ‘By now, everyone knows what they have to do.’ By their own admission, they hardly ever argue. They know the business – and each other – too well for that. When I ask which of the two is the strictest, the answers – with a touch of humour – point mainly towards Franco. Marco seems to regard himself as the more patient of the two. The café has always shaped the lives of the whole family. Both brothers have several children and, by now, quite a few grandchildren too. Their sister also has children and grandchildren. So there’s no shortage of descendants, but whether anyone from the next generation actually wants to carry on the café remains to be seen. The children have their own jobs and their own lives, sometimes outside Sulmona. Moreover, anyone taking over a café like this isn’t just taking over a business, but also a way of life. The working days are long. Normally, the café is closed on Thursdays, but during busy periods – such as the summer and the days around Christmas and Easter – even that day off may be cancelled. During major events in the town, every available pair of hands is needed. According to Franco, a bar like Caffè Europa can hardly be run without the support of a family. There always needs to be someone who can step in: a brother, wife, partner or other family member. That makes succession planning complicated. Selling the business would be relatively straightforward, says Franco. Letting it out is riskier. Then you don’t know whether someone will give up the café after a year or completely change its character. Only if a truly reliable and long-term solution presents itself would that be a possibility. The café and the town The story of Caffè Europa is also the story of Sulmona over the past sixty years. Franco recalls the severe economic crisis at the end of the 1960s. Many young people, in particular, left. Some joined family members who were already living in Australia, Venezuela or the United States. Later, the situation changed. New businesses arrived, the construction of motorways made the town more accessible, and other opportunities to find work emerged. Some of the emigrants returned, and people from outside the area also settled in Sulmona. Franco did not just observe these developments from behind the bar. He was also active in public life. For a time, he served as an assessore comunale, a councillor for Sulmona, and for many years acted as a representative of the local hospitality industry. He still remembers the period when cafés had to adhere to strict opening hours. Even when there were no customers left in the evening, some establishments had to remain open until midnight. Together with a few colleagues, he raised this issue with the prefect. After all, for cafés outside the busiest part of the town centre, it made little sense to stay open for hours on end when no one was coming in. Moreover, public establishments served a broader purpose back then. They not only served coffee and aperitifs, but were also required to make a telephone and toilets available to the public. In a sense, a café was also a public facility. Prime ministers, actors and a former professor Thanks to its location on Corso Ovidio, close to the central square and the theatre, Franco and Marco have welcomed countless famous visitors over the years. Franco mentions several Italian politicians who have served as prime ministers, including Giovanni Spadolini, Bettino Craxi and Giuseppe Conte. He knew Spadolini not only as a politician: he was also one of Franco’s university lecturers. In addition, many well-known actors have visited the café. As a result, the brothers have got to know quite a few celebrities up close over the years. Yet it is not these prominent visitors who define the character of Caffè Europa. It is the people who return there every day or every week. The same coffee since 1991 When I ask what makes a bar like theirs special, Franco replies without hesitation: ‘The coffee is our calling card.’ The coffee they serve comes from Torrefazione Caffè Krifi in Ferrara. Marco shows me a certificate the company received in 2021 to mark the coffee roastery’s sixtieth anniversary. It thanks Caffè Europa for having been a customer for more than thirty years by that point. The decision to use this brand was made by their father around 1991. His instruction was clear: they were not to change it. The brothers have stuck to that. The certificate isn’t prominently displayed on the façade as a marketing tool. Marco brings it out because we’re talking about the history of the café and the coffee. That, too, is in keeping with the business: continuity isn’t promoted as a concept, but is simply part of everyday life. Good coffee alone is, of course, not enough. According to the brothers, a café owner must be able to get on with all sorts of people. You have to be able to adapt, listen and, above all, be patient. Behind the bar, you meet the whole of society. Some customers have been coming for over fifty years. A few are now so old that they can no longer get to the café on their own. Yet, around Easter or Christmas, they still ask family members to bring them along so they can have an aperitif and raise a glass together. Marco’s fondest memory, then, is not a particular event or a famous visitor. He thinks above all of the time he spent working here alongside his father and mother. It is only at the end of our conversation that he adds a personal detail: he also met his wife at Caffè Europa. Tango under the portico The brothers are not trying to preserve their business solely as a reminder of the past. Activities are also organised in and around the café, including Argentine tango evenings. These cannot take place for the time being this year. The floor of the covered passageway in front of the café – the portico – is damaged. This poses a particular hazard for dancers, who let their feet glide across the floor. Franco hopes that the local council will have the floor repaired during the colder months. The portico has a remarkable legal history. When the complex was built, it was agreed that this space could not be completely enclosed. This is because the entrance to the theatre is located at the end of it. The passageway had to remain accessible to the public. In exchange, the local council has certain obligations regarding its maintenance. It is one of those details that show just how closely the café is interwoven with the urban space. Caffè Europa is not a closed-off business behind a front door, but forms part of the route through the city: from the Corso to the theatre, from the square back home. Tango-avond in de portico rondom het Caffè Does a café like this still have a future? When asked whether a traditional bar like Caffè Europa still has a future, Franco’s response is strikingly sombre. ‘To be honest: no.’ Not because people no longer drink coffee or no longer enjoy going to a bar, but because almost no one is prepared to devote their entire life to such an establishment. The work is hard, the days are long and suitable staff are hard to find. In the past, there were professional waiters who practised the same trade for twenty years or more. These days, according to Franco, it’s often young people working temporarily in the hospitality industry, for example to earn money for a holiday. They’re less likely to see it as a career for life. It’s a trend you see in many Italian towns. The traditional bar remains popular, but the working model on which it was based – a family that is present almost constantly – is slowly disappearing. Yet Caffè Europa doesn’t exude resignation. The brothers are restoring the billiards room, ensuring the quality of their coffee and are still behind the bar every day. How long will they carry on? ‘That depends on our health,’ says Franco. A bar should be a habit At the end of our conversation, I ask what they hope someone will write about Caffè Europa in fifty years’ time. Franco pauses to think for a moment. ‘What we’ve meant to the town. What we’ve left behind in Sulmona.’ He hopes the café will be remembered as a welcoming place: a spot where anyone can pop in and where whole families can feel at home. I tell him that this is exactly why I love going to this sort of café. In Anversa degli Abruzzi, too, I have a regular bar where I meet the same people almost every day. You don’t always have to make elaborate plans to meet up there. You walk in, order something and see who’s there. Franco ultimately sums up the meaning of a bar very simply. It’s a place where you meet people, whether you’re having a long drink or just popping in for a moment: a bar should be a habit. Perhaps that’s the best description of Caffè Europa. Not grand, not trendy and not meant to be visited just once. It’s a place that derives its significance from the fact that people return there – every day, every year and sometimes for a lifetime.

Back in Amiternum ten years on Exactly ten years ago, on 1 August 2016, I visited the Amiternum archaeological park, just north of L’Aquila, for the first time. At the time, I wrote an article about it for this website. On 2 August 2026, I returned. Not only because ten years is a fitting occasion to revisit such a special place, but also because this time I took part in a guided tour led by fellow classicist Lucia Tognocchi, who regularly organises cultural and historical tours via her website and Facebook page, Abruzzo in Itinere. The monuments themselves have hardly changed over the past ten years. What has changed, however, is the way in which Amiternum’s history is presented to visitors. When I walked around here in 2016, the results of the extensive international research project carried out by the Universities of Bern and Cologne were barely visible on the site. Those studies have now been published, and the new insights have been incorporated into the archaeological park’s presentation. New information panels, reconstruction drawings and small exhibition spaces near the theatre and the amphitheatre make it much easier to understand the city in its original context. Reason enough to thoroughly revise my 2016 article. From a Sabine settlement to a Roman city The history of Amiternum dates back much further than Roman times. The fertile plain along the River Aterno was already inhabited around 5000 BC. From around the 10th century BC, Italic tribes settled here, who were later referred to as the Sabines by the Romans. They built fortified settlements on the surrounding hills, from where they could control the mountain passes and protect their herds. At the beginning of the 3rd century BC, the Romans conquered the area. Amiternum was subsequently developed into the administrative centre of the region. The town grew along the Via Caecilia, the main thoroughfare in this part of Abruzzo. A regular street layout emerged around this road, featuring public buildings, residential houses and infrastructure, including an aqueduct. Livestock farming remained the main economic activity. Thanks to its strategic location along the routes of the transumanza – the annual migration of sheep between the mountain pastures of Abruzzo and the winter pastures in southern Italy – Amiternum developed into a prosperous town. Agriculture also played an important role. Pliny the Elder mentions Amiternum several times in his Naturalis Historia (1). The town was renowned throughout the Roman world for its excellent turnips and for a special variety of onion. Theatre and amphitheatre In the second half of the 1st century BC, Amiternum underwent a period of ‘monumentalisation’. It was then that the theatre was built, partly against a natural slope to the east of the Via Caecilia. Tragedies, comedies and other performances took place here. Part of the seating and the stage have been preserved to this day. The sculptural decoration is evident from finds including a statue of Hercules and marble theatre masks, which are now housed in the Museo Nazionale d’Abruzzo. In the late 1st century AD, the amphitheatre was built on the plain to the south of the Aterno. Gladiatorial combats and hunts were held here. The building is largely constructed of brick. The arena, the ring gallery and the outer colonnade are still clearly recognisable. It is striking that the building had to be reinforced as early as antiquity due to structural problems. One of the entrances to the amphitheatre Both buildings remained in use for centuries. From the fourth century onwards, building materials were increasingly reused. In the Middle Ages, simple dwellings and burial grounds sprang up on and around the monuments. Nevertheless, Amiternum – or at least part of it – remained inhabited until the 15th century, well after L’Aquila had been founded. New insights from international research A key reason why a second visit yields so much more than it did ten years ago is the research carried out between 2006 and 2013 by the Universities of Cologne and Bern, in collaboration with the Italian Archaeological Service and other international partners. During this project, not only were excavations carried out, but geophysical surveys were also conducted: research techniques that enable archaeologists to detect walls, roads and other underground structures without digging. Photograph of an information board at the site, showing a reconstruction of Amiternum based on further archaeological research. The aim of the project was to gain as comprehensive a picture as possible of the city and its surroundings. It took years to process the enormous amount of data. The results have now been published and have led to a much better understanding of the scale and spatial layout of Amiternum. These new insights are now also displayed on the information panels in the archaeological park. The ‘so-called peristyle house’ Close to the amphitheatre lie the remains of a large building that was known for many years as the domus a peristilio. The complex is built around a spacious rectangular courtyard with colonnades and featured richly decorated rooms with frescoes and mosaics. Photo of the information board at the site, offering a fine view of the floor plan of the peristyle house Nevertheless, archaeologists are now reluctant to label the building as a dwelling. The information panels indicate that its function is uncertain. It may have been a market hall, the building of a trade guild, or a complex linked to the amphitheatre. That is why they now deliberately refer to it as the ‘so-called peristyle house’. It is a fine example of how archaeological research can add nuance to existing interpretations. The Amiternum Calendar: the Roman year in marble One of the most remarkable finds from Amiternum is this official town calendar, engraved in marble and dating from around 20 AD, during the reign of Emperor Tiberius. Originally, the calendar consisted of two large marble slabs: one showing the months from January to June and one showing July to December. The slab pictured here is from the second part. Centuries later, it was reused as building material in the church of San Vittorino, where it was eventually rediscovered. The calendar illustrates how the Romans introduced not only their system of government but also their calendar system into the territories they had conquered. An official calendar of this kind was displayed in the forum of every city, from which residents could see which days were suitable for the administration of justice, trade, public assemblies, religious festivals and public activities. A Roman month was organised differently from ours. The days were not numbered consecutively, but were counted from three fixed points: the Kalendae (the first day of the month), the Nonae (the fifth or seventh day) and the Idus (the thirteenth or fifteenth day). In addition, the calendar featured an eight-day market cycle (nundinae), designated by the letters A to H, with every eighth day being a market day. Other letters indicated the nature of the day: F (fastus) for days on which justice could be administered, N (nefastus) for days on which religious activities were forbidden, C (comitialis) for days on which public assemblies could be held, and EN (endotercisus) for days that were partly sacred and partly secular. August magnified The detailed photograph shows part of the month of August. Historical and religious notes are engraved between the calendar markings. For example, on 13 August, the Ides of August, the goddess Diana is commemorated, together with the Etruscan god Vortumnus. Reference is also made to the worship of Castor and Pollux (the Dioscuri) at the Circus Flaminius in Rome. The day before the Ides is dedicated to Hercules Invictus, the Unconquered Hercules, who was very popular in this region. Thanks to the deciphering of the inscriptions, we know that the calendar not only contained practical information but also commemorated important events from the reign of Augustus, such as the dedication of the Ara Pacis, the victory at Actium, the annual Ludi Augustales and, on 19 August, the dies tristissimus: the anniversary of Emperor Augustus’s death in the year 14 AD. This calendar was therefore much more than a practical overview of days and months. It demonstrated that public life in Amiternum, too, was attuned to the rhythm of Rome, whilst at the same time leaving room for local traditions and religious customs. A second visit that was well worth it Ten years ago, it was mainly the monumental remains of the theatre and the amphitheatre that made an impression on me. This time, I focused mainly on the town behind those monuments. Thanks to the updated information displays, the findings of years of archaeological research and Lucia Tognocchi’s expert commentary, I gained a much more complete picture of Amiternum than I did during my first visit. (1) For example Plin. Nat. 19.27: est praeterea genus silvestre, cuius folia sunt erucae similia. palma Romae Amiterninis datur, dein Nursinis, tertia nostratibus. cetera de satu eorum in rapis dicta sunt. ‘There is also a wild variety, the leaves of which resemble those of rocket (rucola). The first prize (palma, the palm branch) is awarded in Rome to the inhabitants of Amiternum, the second to those of Nursia, and the third to those of our own district (nostratibus). The rest regarding its sowing has already been mentioned in the section on turnips.’ See also Pliny, Natural History 19.35.

Wanneer je vanuit l’Aquila over de SS17bis richting de Gran Sasso rijdt, kom je vlak na het gehucht Paganica langs het Heiligdom van de Madonna d’Appari, dat pal naast de weg tussen de rotswand en het riviertje de Raiale is gebouwd. In de dertiende eeuw had de herderin Maddalena Chiaravalle op de plek waar zij altijd haar kudde schapen liet grazen een visioen: Onze-Lieve-Vrouw van Smarten (la Madonna Addolorata [1]) verscheen aan haar met de gestorven Christus op haar schoot. De bevolking van het dorp bouwde vervolgens op die plek eerst een votiefheiligdom gewijd aan de Madonna en daarna een kleine tempel tegen het rotsmassief. In de loop der jaren is het gebouw een paar keer uitgebreid en werd de SS17bis aangelegd. In 1999 werden de fresco’s in het interieur gerestaureerd, maar de aardbeving van 2009 bracht veel schade aan, zowel aan het interieur als aan de constructie. Gelukkig verliep de restauratie daarvan voorspoedig, zodat al in 2011 de kerk heropend werd voor publiek. Buitenkant Zoals gezegd is de kerk gebouwd tegen een rots aan. Links van de kerk zie je een tunnel die de SS17bis dwars door het gebergte leidt, dat boven de kerk uitsteekt. De rechthoekig gevel rust op de uitloper van de rots aan de linkerkant. In de bovendorpel van het portaal zien we het monogram IHS, dat door de in l’Aquila begraven heilige Bernardinus van Siena actief werd gebruikt. Boven het portaal bevindt zich in het timpaan een fresco van de Madonna met kind. Het bovenste deel van de gevel is een klokkengevel met drie bogen: twee grote aan de zijkant en de kleinere centrale hoger geplaatst. Een andere ingang bevindt zich in de muur rechts, met ook een timpaan met een fresco van de Madonna met kind en het IHS-monogram van de heilige Bernardinus [2]. Intern Het eerste dat opvalt bij binnenkomst is de enorme hoeveelheid aan fresco’s, op de muren en plafonds zowel in de kerk als op het priesterkoor. De kerk heeft een enkel schip met een zesdelig kruisgewelf dat rust op zes halve pilaren. De linkermuur van het priesterkoor, waarschijnlijk het oudste gedeelte van het gebouw, loopt taps toe: je ziet dat daar de rots als het ware de kerk binnenkomt. Foto links auteur; tekening rechts afkomstig van www.joostdevree.nl De kwaliteit van de fresco’s is voor een groot deel weliswaar matig, maar ze zijn scenografisch en iconografisch interessant te noemen. Zie hier een korte impressie op YouTube. De fresco’s op de muren van het schip van de kerk Na binnenkomst zien we links op de muur de Madonna met kind met heiligen, een laat zestiende-eeuws fresco. Op de rechtermuur bevindt zich halverwege een altaar waarboven de communie van de apostelen is uitgebeeld, een werk van Pierfrancesco da Montereale, een kunstenaar die in de tweede helft van de zestiende eeuw in Abruzzo actief was. Daarboven, in het lunet, het gebed in de Hof van Getsemane. Rechts van het altaar zijn de fresco’s in twee registers gerangschikt. Bovenaan vrome vrouwen bij het graf en de aartsengel Michael. Onder het raam zien we een knielend biddende figuur (niet duidelijk wie). In het onderste register de Madonna met Kind met daarnaast de heilige Leonardus (zonder hoofd) met de datum 1541 en dan de heilige Martinus te paard die de mantel aan arme geeft. Let op de hoorntjes die de arme op zijn hoofd heeft: een verwijzing naar de strijd die Martinus regelmatig met de duivel had? Met de klok mee: biddende figuur - vrome vrouwen bij het graf - aartsengel Michael - Heilige Martinus met duivel - Madonna met Kind Links van het altaar drie afbeeldingen van heiligen: een groot fresco van Sint Antonius van Padua (herkenbaar aan de lelie), met links van daarvan een kleinere afbeelding van dezelfde heilige en rechts Sint Bernardinus, met ook hier weer het IHS-monogram. Eronder het jaartal 1631. Nog iets verder zien we Madonna met Kind met daaronder volgens sommigen ook weer het gebed in de Hof van Getsemane. De fresco’s op het plafond van het schip van de kerk: Maria Koningin Hoewel de kerk is opgericht om te herdenken dat Maria daar is verschenen (d’Appari) en zij verschenen was als ‘Addolorata’ (Onze-Lieve-Vrouwe der smarten) staat in de fresco’s van het zesdelige kruisgewelf niet haar lijden, maar haar kroning tot koningin letterlijk centraal: de Moeder Gods werd aan het einde van haar aardse leven door God in de hemel opgenomen en door de verrezen en ten hemel opgestegen Christus als Koningin des Hemels gekroond. De fresco’s op het plafond zijn weliswaar niet van een erg begaafde kunstenaar, maar alles is erop gericht om aan de gelovigen duidelijk te maken dat Maria als Moeder van de Messias een cruciale rol had in de vervulling van de profetieën van het Oude Testament. Rondom de scene van de kroning laten engelen niet alleen met spreukbanden zien van wie Maria de koningin is (van de engelen, van de kerkvaders, van de apostelen en de evangelisten etc.), maar ook bevestigen zij met teksten de rol van Maria in de vervulling van de geschriften hebben voorspeld. Datzelfde doen de figuren daaromheen: profeten, kerkvaders en Sibyllen [3]. Zo zijn op de eerste boog aan de rechterkant goed te zien de profeet Hosea (Osias), de Sibylle van Erythrea en de profeet Baruch en links de Sibylle van Europa (een latere toevoeging aan de schare Sibylles). Vlak achter de boog zien we links de Sibylle Agrippa en rechts de Tiburtina. Op het rechtergedeelte van het gewelf zijn de Sibylle van de Hellespont en de Perzische herkenbaar, met tussen hen in de profeten Daniel en Jesaia. Op de linkerhelft van het gewelf zien we de Lybische Sibylle. En tot slot zijn ook enkele kerkvaders goed herkenbaar, zoals Cyprianus, Basilius en Origines. Klik op de pijl naar links <- of naar rechts -> of op de miniaturen rechts om meer foto's te zien Het priesterkoor Op het priesterkoor, waar het altaar staat en de eucharistie gevierd wordt, staat uiteraard het Lijdensverhaal centraal. Maar ook hier heeft Maria een belangrijke plek. Het priesterkoor ligt iets hoger dan het schip en wordt afgescheiden door een witte stenen balustrade, waarboven zich de triomfboog bevindt. Op de triomfboog zien we apostelen en de vier evangelisten: helemaal bovenin Johannes de Evangelist, met links van hem de apostel Paulus (te herkennen aan het kruis) en rechts de apostel Petrus (met de sleutels). In de linkermuur een ‘aedicula’ aan, een kapelletje in de muur. Het zou de originele votiefheiligdom zijn en om die reden is de piëta erin afgebeeld. Op de rest van de linkermuur wordt het leven van Maria in scenes uitgebeeld. De fresco’s, van beduidend betere kwaliteit, dateren van omstreeks 1540-1550 en zijn het werk van Pierfrancesco da Montereale (die van de fresco’s van het kleine altaar), misschien met de medewerking van zijn vader Francesco, eveneens een in Abruzzo bekende schilder. Het verhaal leest zich van boven naar beneden: de geboorte van Maria in het comfort van een rijke familie (wat een verschil met de sobere geboorte van Christus, enkele afbeeldingen later), Maria wordt als klein meisje door haar ouders naar de tempel gebracht (waar zij vervolgens negen haar verblijft), de verloving met Jozef (compleet met een teleurgestelde aanbidder die de stok breekt aan wiens falen hij zijn liefde tevergeefs had toevertrouwd), de annunciatie, het bezoek aan Elizabeth, de geboorte van Christus, de drie koningen. Daarnaast dus de aedicula, met daarin de rouwende Maria met haar gestorven Zoon in haar schoot. Klik op de pijl naar links <- of naar rechts -> of op de miniaturen rechts om meer foto's te zien De achterwand en linkermuur van het koor laten het Lijdensverhaal: de gang van Jezus met het kruis naar Golgotha (let op de wit geborduurde tuniek van Jezus) en rechts de kruisiging en de graflegging van Jezus. Boven, op het gewelf, geeft God de Vader zijn zegen, omringd door een enorme schare musicerende engelen en cherubijnen. Klik hier voor een korte impressie van het priesterkoor. Enkele andere wetenswaardigheden Let bij binnenkomst ook op de onderkant van het wijwatervat aan muur bij ingang: dat wordt ondersteund door een hand. Binnen in de kerk was er vroeger een tempera op hout waarop de Madonna op de troon werd afgebeeld, een werk van Andrea Delitio daterend uit de tweede helft van de 15e eeuw, dat zich nu in het Nationaal Museum van Abruzzo in l’Aquila bevindt. In de kerk bevindt zich ook een kostbaar orgel met 400 pijpen, gebouwd door de Romeinse kunstenaar Tommaso Vayola in 1857. In de zomer worden er orgelconcerten gehouden. De Madonna d'Appari wordt gevierd op de dinsdag na Pasen. Vroeger gingen de inwoners van de nabijgelegen plaatsjes Paganica, Camarda en Assergi dan naar de kerk om de mis bij te wonen en vervolgens deel te nemen aan de processie met het standbeeld van de Piëta, dat nu niet meer in het heiligdom wordt bewaard. Ze vertrokken 's morgens vroeg en brachten dan een stuk 'paaspizza' van de vorige dagen en wat zelfgemaakte salami met zich mee. Bronnen: Diverse pagina’s van Wikipedia https://www.iluoghidelsilenzio.it/santuario-della-madonna-dappari-paganica-aq/ http://portalecultura.egov.regione.abruzzo.it/abruzzocultura/loadcard.do?id_card=116363&force=1&theme=aritnew https://www.archeoclublaquila.it/articoli/cat/85-contado-aquilano/93-percorso-per-e-attorno-a-madonna-d-appari.html Voetnoten [1] Wanneer Maria als Onze-Lieve-Vrouwe van Smarten wordt aanbeden, staan naar zeven ‘smarten’ centraal, waarvan de laatste vier deel uitmaken van het Lijdensverhaal: Maria’s ontmoeting met Jezus op weg naar Golgotha, Maria bij het Kruis, Maria die het dode lichaam van haar Zoon op school heeft (de ‘piëta’) en Maria bij het begraven van Jezus. [2] Het IHS-monogram, die de eerste letters van de naam Jezus in het Grieks voorstellen, werd vooral bekend als embleem van de orde van de Jezuïeten, maar werd ook al door heiligen in de eeuwen daarvoor uitgedragen. Bernardinus van Siena was een van hen. Hij ligt begraven in de Chiesa di S. Bernardino in l’Aquila. [3] In de Klassieke Oudheid waren de Sibyllen vrouwelijke orakels, in het bijzonder priesteressen van Apollo. Vanaf de late Middeleeuwen beschouwde de kerk twaalf van hen als profetessen van de komst van Christus, als heidense tegenhangers van de profeten uit het Oude Testament. In die hoedanigheid werden ze afgebeeld in de kunst, bijvoorbeeld op het plafond van de Sixtijnse Kapel in het Vaticaan.

De fresco’s in de apsis van de Santa Maria di Ronzano De Santa Maria di Ronzano is prachtig gelegen op een vlakte bij de rivier de Mavone, omringd door groene weiden en de imposante bergen van de Gran Sasso. De kerk hoorde bij een benedictijner kloostercomplex uit de twaalfde eeuw en lijkt in the middle of nowhere te staan. Des te groter de verrassing wanneer je de kerk binnengaat. De goed bewaarde fresco's uit 1181 in de apsis zijn werkelijk adembenemend. Ze stellen scenes voor uit het Nieuwe Testament, die zó geordend zijn, dat ze het verlossende karakter van de komst van Jezus en de bemiddelende rol van Maria daarbij lijken te benadrukken. Een venster in het midden als symbool voor het licht In het onderste register in de apsis zien we van links naar rechts de Judaskus, de arrestatie van Christus, de geseling, de kruisiging in het midden (gedeeltelijk verdwenen, maar het is nog steeds mogelijk om de figuur van Longinus met de speer aan de linkerkant en de figuur van de andere soldaat met de azijnemmer te bewonderen), het verzoek aan Pilatus om het lichaam van Jezus, de begrafenis en de rouwende vrouwen. In het middelste register zien we Maria die Elisabeth bezoekt, de geboorte van Jezus (met het kind dubbel vertegenwoordigd), de Drie Koningen/Epifanie (zwaar beschadigd), de vlucht naar Egypte en de kindermoord in Bethlehem. In het bovenste register staan de twaalf apostelen met in het midden de Annunciatie: links van het venster de engel Gabriel en rechts Maria. Boven de drie registers is de zegenende Christus in een mandorla. Een dergelijke voorstelling noemt men Christus als Pantocrator. Christus is omringd door vier vliegende engelen: in zijn linkerhand houdt hij een schijf vast waarop (waarschijnlijk) EGO SUM LUX MUNDI (Ik ben het Licht van de Wereld) is geschreven. Het venster in het midden is zo de spil van de themalijnen: verticaal: de Pantocrator – venster – Epifanie - kruisiging horizontaal: Gabriel – venster – Maria. Zo staat de geboorte van Christus rechtstreeks in verband met het offer van het kruis en de overwinning van de Pantocrator. Het venster vertegenwoordigt daarbij het Licht. De Santa Maria di Ronzano is gelegen in de vallei van de Vomano, die eeuwenlang een belangrijke verbindingsweg is geweest tussen Rome en de plaatsen aan de kust: al in de Romeinse tijd liep hier de Via Caecilia, waarlangs men ook de nabijgelegen Vallei van de Mavone kon bereiken. Dat heeft in beide valleien belangrijke sporen achtergelaten in de vorm van dorpen en stadjes, met abdijen daar tussenin. Op www.valledelleabbazie.it worden auto- , fiets- en wandelroutes langs die abdijen beschreven. Deze foto komt van die website (de Santa Maria di Ronzano is B):