November 4th, 2009
The most surprising thing I found before leaving England to visit Basilicata was that no-one knew where I was going. Even friends who thought they knew Italy well weren’t aware of Basilicata. On the plane from Stansted to Bari, most of the English people we spoke to had family connections to account for their holiday in southern Italy – and most were visiting Puglia, not Basilicata. Of those that had heard of it, few had actually visited, but most were intrigued.
I first noticed the emptiness as we drove across the wheat plains of Basilicata, with the mountains above us. The further we drove from Bari and the Puglia border, the higher we rose, the wilder the scenery became, and we passed very few cars. Basilicata is the most mountainous as well as the least known region of southern Italy. Poverty and relentless emigration over the centuries have left this ‘instep’ of Italy’s boot with the country’s lowest population density and have preserved it as an isolated, virtually unknown region, even to Italians. Tourism is rare, although Italians visit the coastal resorts in August. As the road headed up to the mountains, we passed ancient hilltop towns and villages clinging to rocky limestone plateaus. Often seeming more Greek than typically Italian, it was little surprise to find that this was once part of ancient Magna Graecia; in fact you are more likely to stumble upon Greek temples than you are Roman ruins. Known in Italy as a land of myth and fable, this little region was clearly full of surprises. Images of rocks, sun and sky stayed in my head – along with warm hospitality.
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October 24th, 2009
Matera, the second largest town in Basilicata and capital of the province which bears it’s name, is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, thanks to its extraordinary labyrinth of caves, used as dwellings as recently as the 1950s, and which are literally part of the town – under your feet, beside you, and around the next corner. Many are well preserved, and the Sassi (‘stones’) districts are now undergoing stylish renovations and are now host to bars, restaurants, and chic boutique hotels. Our hotel, the 5* Palazzo Gattini, was stunning, and combined old world luxury with every modern comfort. The view from the terrace and the balconies to the ancient caves was magical and entrancing. Wandering through the Sassi, standing in a humid cave which so recently housed entire families, and gazing across the ravine to opposite cliffs where shepherds sheltered for millennia, we got a sense of how hard life was here for so many. Stepping through the courtyards, ancient wine cellars and narrow streets, however, you do also get a strong sense of the communities which survived and flourished against the odds. Tiny churches are built into the rock face, often with just discernible faded frescoes painted onto the walls. There really is a biblical aspect to the landscape, and it comes as no surprise that the town was used as the setting for Mel Gibson’s ‘The Passion of the Christ’. ‘Simply Perfect’, he is reported to have said when first seeing Matera, and it isn’t hard to see why.
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October 15th, 2009
While staying in Matera, we were lucky enough to be present for the annual festival, held on the 2nd July, where the town celebrates its patron, the Madonna della Bruna (the Brown Madonna). The festival starts at dawn, with Mass in the Cathedral, and culminates in the evening, when the statue of the Madonna della Bruna is taken from its Cathedral home and is raised onto a large papier-mâché float. A colourful procession winds it’s way through the streets accompanied enthusiastically by the town dignitaries dressed as Knights Templars on horseback, clergy and musicians. After passing through the town three times, the Madonna is removed and the atmosphere changes to one of eager anticipation of what is about to happen. At the appointed moment, the sets off at high speed pulled towards the town square where the local youths are gathered ready to try in every way possible to get hold of a piece of the float for those that do luck is sure to be with them all year. There is a great crush as the crowd surges forward to watch the frenzy, the horses stamp, and yet I have never felt so safe and calm amongst a pressing crowd as we all strain to see the remains of the iron cart and the proud winners of angel wings and saints made of papier-mâché with exquisite detail and craftsmanship. Crowded and exuberant, the town really comes to life in this exhilarating spectacle, where it appears that the entire population of the region is crammed into the streets, cheering and chatting and partying. Classical music concerts take place in the Piazzas, and the restaurants and bars, like the streets, are full to overflowing with young and old alike, a family occasion in true Italian style. At midnight, the most fabulous display of fireworks and music took place on the mountainside facing the town. We were breathless as we watched from our hotel balcony as we sipped champagne. The choreographed fireworks exploding in perfect synchronisation to Puccini and Verdi arias, with the town momentarily silent and the caves lit up and glowing among the dark mountains surrounding the town. A magical evening, crowned to with the splendour of light, a perfect end to our holiday.
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September 30th, 2009
We were given the opportunity of visiting Maratea some years ago, thanks to the hospitality of Italian friends. Even today, not many English speaking tourists visit Maratea, and it could easily claim to be Italy’s best kept secret. The coast around Maratea is known as the pearl of the Tyrrhenian and it is easy to see why; it is just as beautiful, though without the international reputation, of the Amalfi coast to the north. Maratea has kept its true Italian character intact and its small coves, with dramatic, rugged cliffs behind them, are often empty even in summer, although the port and historic centre are fast becoming chic, elegant resorts for Italian holidaymakers.
Highlights from our tip included a visit to see the statue of Christ, second in size only to that of Rio, and recognizable from anywhere along the coast of Maratea. The road to the statue is very windy, narrow and steep. The morning was very foggy which made the journey even more hairy and as the statue appeared out of the mist directly above us, it was quite spooky. Almost immediately the sun burnt through the mist and it became a fabulous day to enjoy the wonderful views of the coast.
We enjoyed a wonderful fish lunch in a pretty restaurant overlooking the harbour at Maratea. Unfortunately we had a particularly unhappy two year old with us, so I spent most of the lunch walking the streets holding my child. Typically the Italians did not seem to mind young, noisy children and we were fussed over wherever we went.
We visited many small coves, some of which had the black sand for which the region is famous. Matera also has a lively yacht harbour and many beautiful old squares and streets with great restaurants and shops; the town is made up of a number of fishing villages, each with their own identity.
My main memory is the fantastic warmth of the people and how we were made to feel not like tourists, but friends.
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September 21st, 2009
Having enjoyed a superb five course lunch in the mountain village of Castelmezzano, I tried to conquer the butterflies in my stomach as we headed up the track that led to one of the most surreal experiences I have ever had – the chance to fly ‘like an angel’, as the Italians say – across a ravine, from one mountain to the next. Il Volo dell’angelo, or the Flight of the Angel, is one of Basilicata’s most astonishing tourist attractions, and is not for the faint-hearted. You fly, strapped horizontally to a zipwire, from the peak of Castelmezzano, across to the mountain top village of Pietrapertosa. You are at an altitude of almost 900 metres, and the views – literally bird’s eye – were, I was told, unbelievable. I guessed I would have to keep my eyes open! In the village, before you walk up to the landing stage, there is the chance to sign a visitor’s book and leave your ‘last words just in case’ the tour guide told me with a glint in his eye, before you leave to fly across the canyon. Trepidation was mounting, and all I could think to write was a message to my husband and sons – in case I never saw them again! I felt less angelic and more like a sacrificial lamb as I was trussed up in secure harness; logic and fear are not good bed fellow. And then I was off – flying at a speed of 120km an hour, racing across the ravine with the wind in my face. The flight only last a few minutes, yet it felt like an eternity, gazing down upon the treetops and the valley far, far below, maybe I should have kept my eyes closed afterall. It was both terrifying and exhilarating, and certainly offered an adrenaline rush like no other. But this was not a one way ticket, having survived and recovered from the first flight, the second zip wire summon us onwards for the return journey. As I set off thunder rolled around the valley and lightening flashed across the mountains, adding to the drama. Unique, amazing and inspirational, I was shaking when I descended, but happy I’d done it – and survived to see my boys again and lived to tell the tale! I will never be short again for a good story to tell around the dinner table.
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September 5th, 2009
magine a region where the food you are served in restaurants is locally sourced, fresh, and mostly organic. It is based on traditional Mediterranean style cuisine but has echoes of other cultures, notably northern European, Spanish and Arabic. Dishes that are earthy and honest, prepared as they always have been, with food that has as much value for the discerning traveller to Italy as the more famous Parma ham and risottos. This region is the small, mountainous and little known region of Basilicata in southern Italy, sitting on the instep of the boot. The region has been poor and isolated throughout history, and this is reflected in the rustic, hearty dishes that are still served today. Eating out in this region is a delight; course after course arrives, yet costs far less, even in these days of Euro/sterling parity, than you would expect. On visiting Matera in July 2009, we ate in Matera and also in Castelmezzano, a mountain village in the Gallipoli Cognato National Park. All our meals were exceptional. Traditional dishes include Mischiglio, a traditional pasta served with local ‘cacioricota’ cheese and strips of peppers, salami, cheese such as Podilico Caciocavallo, made from the milk of the Basilican Podilico cow, Lucanica sausage, and, famously, bread. The province of Matera, and Basilicata in general, is a major producer or durum wheat, used to make delicious bread with a hard crusty exterior and soft, spongy interior.
Imagine a six course meal where you sample traditional pasta dishes followed by small dishes of the freshest fish imaginable. You could go for a meat alternative and eat fantastic beef steak from the local free ranging herds, perhaps preceded by a stew of beans and sausage. Wash it all down with Aglianico del Vulture, one of the greatest wines of Southern Italy. Enjoy eating in Basilicata; enjoy life – I most certainly did!
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