The ruins of war and violence rarely stand above commonplace lives. The few remaining relics fall down as the progress of the modern day tramples them, and we stand among the shards and shrapnel as observers almost entirely removed from the reality. Familial warfare that lasted generations left its mark on San Gimignano in the form of towers, representing protection and aggression as trophies of sorts, dictating domination to the land below. Houses, peasants, fields, farmers, all formed the living legacy and estate of the few families that rose above, reaching higher towards the intangible god that unified their treason and treachery. San Gimignano carries to this day the dozens of rough towers in varying states of destruction, from conservation to gradual collapse. Only the blows of visitors, footfalls and camera flashes now erode chip-by-chip the half-millennium of stone. The skyline set against the rolling hills of Tuscany now welcomes those it denied open-armed. The streets fill with foreigners walking through painted ceramic and gelato fantasies. Footsteps away, in hidden parks and darkened alleys, the past tramples us and we grow close to a reality much duller and simpler than we looked for, and we gaze up at those fallen, at those ruins, and wonder who won.
San Gimignano formed a part of our school-lead Tuscany trip. I visited in March, and spent several hours walking the streets and observing the city.
Photos @ Picasa Web Albums
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