The temple and the church: Syracuse between past and present

Italy, as you probably know, is a strange place. Since the Grand Tour times, travellers from northern Europe have flocked to the ‘beautiful country’ to admire, possibly under the sun that so often shines in the Mediterranean regions, the grand ruins of the Italian past, visible vestiges of ancient glories, and touching memories of human caducity. They were also in search of the many art treasures, hidden in churches, private palaces, and collections, which were to become part of the first European museums. From this point of view, Italy was conceived as a ‘diffused museum’, to use a modern definition, but with a remarkable difference: it was possible to buy almost everything.

Yet the most fascinating thing for these travellers was perhaps the possibility of seeing an odd living world, where past and present, and sacred and profane, lived together: flocks and shepherds around wonderful ruins, even in the centre of Rome, on the remains of the ancient forums; peasants living in a miserable but fascinating way, with their ancient superstitions and curious traditions; and grand, rich, and colourful religious festivals where the Roman Catholic faith seemed to meet unrestrained forms of pagan leisure.

This oddity is at the basis of what we now call the ‘tourist gaze’: an active gaze capable of transforming the space and the local culture insofar as residents tend to meet the image that tourists have of the place they are visiting.