Castelluccio di Norcia: Beauty, Fragility, and the Price of Exposure
Tucked away in the heart of the Umbrian-Marche Apennines lies Castelluccio di Norcia, a small village that's part of the municipality of Norcia (Perugia), in Umbria, Italy. Perched atop a hill overlooking the Piani di Castelluccio, one of the largest plateaus in Central Italy, this tiny village is a place suspended in time. The current structure dates back to the 13th century, though some research suggests its origins may be even older.
In 2016, a devastating earthquake struck the region with a magnitude of 6.5, causing significant damage to the village and forever altering its already delicate balance with nature and time.
What makes Castelluccio truly magical, however, is an extraordinary natural event that takes place every year: the flowering of the lentil fields. Between late June and mid-July, the plateau explodes in a surreal mosaic of colors—shades of red, purple, yellow, and white stretching as far as the eye can see. It's a breathtaking spectacle that draws thousands of visitors, especially on summer weekends.
I’ve visited this place many times in the past, captivated by the colorful landscapes and the quiet majesty of the mountains. But in recent years, I’ve chosen to stay away. The surge in tourism has become overwhelming—so much so that it risks stripping away the authenticity and serenity that once defined the area.
The photos in this post were taken over a decade ago, back when the experience felt more intimate, more connected to the place itself.
This leads me to reflect on mass tourism and its impact on fragile environments. With globalization and the ease of travel, more and more of the world’s hidden gems are becoming overcrowded. The experience becomes less about being in the moment and more about ticking a box or getting the perfect photo.
Is it fair to the places we visit? Can natural beauty coexist with global visibility? There’s no easy answer. But one thing is clear: without thoughtful regulation and awareness, we risk irreversibly damaging the very places we seek to admire.
What do you think? Can tourism and preservation go hand in hand?
