L'Aquila, the capital of Abruzzo, where I live, experienced a 5.8 earthquake in 2009 . The epicenter was close to this ancient and beautiful city and left 300 dead and 40,000 homeless as well as a devastated city center that remains closed to residents to this day. It's hard to imagine how large and elegant L'Aquila was and the extent of the disaster for residents, students at he university and for the economy of the province. Then Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi vowed to reconstruct this vital city in six months. Four years later, the only work done is the placement of scaffolding around the buildings.
On a recent visit I marveled at some intact structures or facades while all around was damaged.
There's a heartbreaking photo posted of some of the caskets from a joint funeral.
And handwritten notes left by former patrons on the door of a favorite cafe now closed.
One of the churches had scaffolding on the inside as well and was open to visitors.
It's hard to grasp the enormity of the loss of this capital, this historical and cultural center, this educational and commercial center. It's hard to see it left in this state of abeyance. It has the third largest piazza in Italy as just one of its many piazzas and elegant buildings and villas among its historic places.
Tours are now given to witness the devastation. I could see glimpses into houses, their doors ajar with dishes on the table and photos on the shelves. Residents have not been allowed back. Lives suspended.
There's no shortage of finger pointing to assign blame in the lack of progress in reconstruction. But it's the more personal side of this enormous loss that was evident at every turn. This large and formerly lovely city, the province's capital, with no people. Add this to the strangely elaborate scaffolding and it was eerie and profoundly unsettling.
