9467 Apennines are alive with the sound of saws and hammers

From The Times April 28, 2008
[url=http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/court_and_social/article3827266.ece]Apennines are alive with the sound of saws and hammers - Times Online[/url]
[IMG]http://www.timesonline.co.uk/multimedia/archive/00323/note1_385x185_323728a.jpg[/IMG]

[IMG]http://www.timesonline.co.uk/multimedia/archive/00323/note2_385x185_323746a.jpg[/IMG]
One man’s enterprise and determination are rescuing an all-but-abandoned 16th-century hill village in the Apennines. Santo Stefano di Sessanio stands at 1,230m in the Abruzzi, its houses packed closely together on a hilltop around a chess-piece tower.
When Daniele Kihlgren arrived, barely 70 people remained in a village that a century ago was 3,000-strong. Numerous houses were not just empty but in a precarious state of collapse. Roofs, ceilings and even stone vaults had crashed in. Yet many of the houses were of 16th-century origin, dating from a time of relative prosperity when four million sheep roamed the surrounding hills, providing, he says, a quarter of the revenue of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies.
His solution has been to create an albergo diffuso, an extended hotel where guests stay in individual houses. Like Sir John Smith, the founder of the Landmark Trust in Britain, he believes that the modest old buildings are often more suited to the temporary needs of transient visitors than as permanent homes. Visitors staying for just a few days do not need large windows, balconies, terraces and televisions but are prepared to accept the constraints of ancient buildings designed with small windows to guard against extremes of weather.
His credo is “development without construction”. He is determined to preserve the ancient character of the place without visible modern intrusions and, more than that, to protect the surrounding landscape from a rash of villa and chalet building. He explains: “We have also managed an Italian first. The local council and the national park have signed an agreement with our company to preserve the hill town and maintain the relation between town and countryside”.
Bearded and blue-eyed, Kihlgren studied philosophy at university in Milan but his taste for historic places was sparked by his Swedish father. “He had been in the pulp trade and took me around the world when I was a boy, to North America, Mexico and Eastern Europe.” With a legacy from his grandfather Kihlgren set about buying empty houses. “Within three years we had acquired about 4,000 square metres,” he continues. His albergo diffuso now has 32 rooms.
Wherever possible he uses salvaged materials to repair the houses. “In a grand building where a fireplace designed by a notable architect had gone missing I would not replace it but here the interiors consist of simple elements that were constantly repeated,” he says.
There are no modern street signs or road markings. The streetlights are simple globes on wall brackets glowing like oil lamps. Though the architecture is quite plain the narrow cobbled streets and stepped alleys are constantly bridged by picturesque archways. There are a surprising number of handsome carved stone doorways to individual houses, matched by classical stone window surrounds that look like the frames of Renaissance Madonnas.
Inside, many of the rooms have sizeable hooded fireplaces in the 16th-century manner — some cleverly infilled with recesses for drying out the wood. Living rooms are furnished so that guests can sit, talk and play games. His concern for character and authenticity has led him to fit out some interiors for their original purposes — a schoolroom with blackboard and desks and a spinning room with three looms for weaving colourful rugs, throws and bedspreads. A series of small shops sell local products — salami, mountain cheese, massive loaves, little jars of wild saffron, jam, honey and local liqueurs of plums and berries. At the tisaneria we drank infusions of blueberry and saffron, lace-like biscuits made in a waffle iron, sliced banana with toffee and diced strawberries on bread soaked in syrup.
Arriving at night it was spellbinding to walk down cobbled streets without the sound of traffic. The steps to the restaurant were lined with large candles in flat dishes. The cuisine, researched from interviews by the Museum of the People of Abruzzo, was intended for people with hearty appetites after long hard days in the mountains.
We dined off salamis served on wooden platters, courgette soup with “liar” meatballs (made of bread and tiny flecks of bacon), melted pecorino cheese with walnuts and honey, and lamb stew. Tables are set beneath giant stone arches supported in the centre by square pillars (I never discovered if these were later supports or part of the construction).
Breakfast, served in the house of the shepherd master, was a grand array of tarts, made of potato and cheese, red and yellow pimentos, and jams.
Hotel rooms are kept warm by underfloor heating. The one thing Kihlgren regrets is an overcomplicated (but discreet) system of air-conditioning. Lamps are made from simple bits of old woodwork such as discarded bed posts. “I even look in dumps to find old things to use,” he says.
Plumbing is stylish and modern with free-standing vase-like baths, ample shower recesses and circular porcelain basins set in simple tables. His favorite is a shallow square basin where instead of a plughole the water disappears over a lip at the back. Our towel rail is a massive weathered ladder leaning against the wall.
This is not the hip hotel route of glamour and luxury. Kihlgren explains: “Our visitors are mostly people who know Italy very well and are looking for new regions such as the Abruzzi to explore”.
[url=http://www.sextantio.it]Sextantio - S.Stefano di Sessanio[/url]
Marcus Binney is chairman of SAVE Europe’s Heritage