Un Paese sempre più vecchio e sempre più ignorante
di Francesco Billari
by Manlio Pisu
6' min read
6' min read
Seen from the top of the mountain passes of the Apuan Alps, the coastal strip of Versilia appears as a single, large urban agglomeration, diffuse and very long, with no solution of continuity. The seaside resorts that have given lustre and fame to these places, with their massive tourist flows, now partly from Russia and Eastern Europe, appear indistinguishable in the dense anthropic concentration.
The contrast could not be more stark. From the panoramic terraces of the Alpine passes overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea, that world of luxury beach resorts, starred restaurants, shopping streets, designer ladies, discos that have entered the history of Italian music, seems light years away. Yet as the crow flies, it is only a dozen kilometres away. Half an hour or so by car.
The colour effect is one that sticks in the memory. The patches of white of the marble quarries on the mountainsides, the shades of green of the forest cover, the grey of the rocks, the blue of the sea, the blue of the sky, the grey-pink of the human settlements on the coast. If one is lucky, on a clear day, the view from here sweeps as far as the peaks of Corsica, the islands of the Tuscan archipelago and the Gulf of Poets. It is a wonder that leaves one open-mouthed in amazement at such beauty.
In the small villages clinging to the steep slopes of the Apuane Alps, one breathes a different air. Not only because you are climbing in altitude. It is still the hard work that has marked the lives of the local people for millennia that gives the area its imprint. Quarrymen, loggers, miners. A land of strong anarchist traditions, of partisans, of civil commitment in the Resistance. Here, between 1944 and 1945, the Gothic Line passed, which left its streak of blood not only among the soldiers of the opposing fronts but also among civilians in the Nazi-Fascist massacres, first and foremost Sant'Anna di Stazzema.
Since the time of the Greeks, Etruscans and Romans, people have extracted the world's finest marble from the mountain. Michelangelo used to come here in person to choose the best blocks from which, 'removing the superfluous', he carved his masterpieces. For centuries, generations of sculptors have come here, dreaming of giving form to their ideas, sculpting the white raw material of the Apuane Alps.