Seen from our hotel room. I loved Orvieto. Rick Steves loves Orvieto. Is there anyone who doesn’t love Orvieto?
You walk up to Orvieto from its base town. The real town, though, is up on the bluffs, where popes hid in times of need. Orvieto has caves and wells. Orvieto has great shopping and restaurants. Orvieto has a gorgeous Duomo. (I might show its photo.) You can find your way around in Orvieto easily. Orvieto has pretty ceramics shops and an innovative art/bicycle/fiber shop. It has cats and people who wash the doorsteps of their shops. Really.
What Orvieto has so generously, though, is charm. It’s so walkable. It’s so perfectly what it is. People go to Orvieto for the day. It’s less than 90 minutes from Rome.
One of our included excursions was dinner at a restaurant where we watched the chef make pasta by hand and then ate an amazing meal, of which that very pasta was a course. I ate something there that was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever eaten — and I don’t even know what it was. A chickpea terrine/souffle? Not sure. The pasta was good. The antipasto plate, which we nibbled at while we watched the noodle-making (a kilo of flour and 11 eggs), could have sufficed for my entire meal. The wine flowed. There was meat, and mashed potatoes that set a new bar. They had itsy bits of red onion and navy beans incorporated in them. Don’t know why. But SO good. There was dessert. But that chickpea whatever? And I don’t really like chickpeas. Ha!
I want to go back to Orvieto. And maybe see if they still have that mustard-yellow leather skirt that was in the window. Two of us talked about buying and sharing it, each of us having it six months of the year. Orvieto can do that to you, make you think you really want to wear a mustard-yellow leather skirt, with a black turtle-neck and black boots, of course. People in Orvieto look good because they are happy and they walk a lot and they eat well.
Orvieto casts a spell.