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Fast changing Basilicata - Largo San di Guiliano

February 4, 2019

FAST-CHANGING BASILICATA – WE SEARCH AND RECORD IT

24^th– 28^th October:

FAST-CHANGING BASILICATA – TRACKING IT KEEPS GRAHAM BUSY

We decided we must spend more time finding the rich, ever-evolving history in fast-changing Basilicata. In this period we did a lot of driving and walking around our immediate area. Graham wanted to get a real ‘feel’ for that part of Basilicata. One of the places we’d neglected was Grassano, a larger town not too far away, where Carlo Levi was first imprisoned.

FAST- CHANGING ROADS IN GRASSANO – ROUND IN CIRCLES!

Our neglect did not seem to matter, because we found Grassano disappointingly, rather uninteresting. (If we simply did not find the best bits, then we heartily apologise.) I remember quite a smart central street, which somehow, despite efforts to explore further, we kept finding ourselves back in. We always ended at the top, where there was a large ‘netted-off’ ruined zone in front of a seemingly inaccessible building. From its appearance it might have been the railway station. We kept trying various side streets, but always came back to the same street that climbed straight up the hill.

NO-ONE TO ASK

Although it was mid-morning when we arrived, we did not find a single person to ask for better directions. Nor was there a café or restaurant open.

Except – What I do remember is the laughter from a gaggle of local youths lolling outside a bar located on the side street right at the top. They collapsed with mirth each time we drove around in front of them – about three or four, as I remember. When we stopped to ask their advice, they simply waved us away. Finally, at the bottom of the town we found a way out. We took it with relief.

I have since read claims of an ancient centre with art works of distinction.

What a pity there were no directions to it (in 2016, at anyrate).

Dispirited, we set off to explore side roads in search of abandoned old MASSERIAS:

FAST- CHANGING BASILICATA – LONELY VILLAGES AND FARMS

Fast changing Basilicata - Lonely Villages & Farms — Roads through Lonely Villages & Farms

While I was still limping slightly, we went on short ‘mystery tours’ and explored tiny villages round about us. Most were either abandoned, or in a very sorry state of disrepair. Apart from one: We found a truly charming settlement at the end of a road up above the ‘end’ of the lake.

Graham also went down tiny lanes and tracks. He was searching for the many picturesque ruined farmhouses (masseria) littering that landscape. He photographed his finds in an attempt to put them on record.

Fast changing Basilicata - The Ruins of the Old Masseria Mazzapede — The Ruins of the Old Masseria Mazzapede

(Graham takes over here)… Giuseppe took me up above the house, past a large water storage pond, and into his newly planted grove of olive trees. To the edge of the plot there was an overgrown tangle of brambles and bushes.

THE OLD FAMILY MASSERIA

Amongst them were the remains of the old ‘Masseria Mazzapede’. From the footprint I could see that it had been a large, impressive building. Twenty metres or so further down the slope of the hillside was a walled-off area with faced stone. Giuseppe warned me not to go too close as it covered the old well: Between it and the building was unstable ground, due to landslips. That was why the building had been abandoned.

LEARNING FROM OLD PHOTOGRAPHS

Later, back at the house, he showed me a fading photograph of that Masseria. To this day I wish I’d made a copy. It was a two-storeyed farmhouse with a square pigeon tower that stood a further storey higher at one end. There was also a barn (or stable block) attached, forming it into an L-shaped plan.

FAST-CHANGING BASILICATA – OUR MENTAL GAME – RESTORING RUINS

Fast changing Basilicata - Masseria - Pericolo - Danger — Masseria – Pericolo – Danger

A little further afield Graham struck gold, finding many an interesting ruin to photograph. One was a truly beautiful old building, which he approached by walking up a fairly long, rutted track. It was so attractive that I followed him, in order to get a better look myself. That one was shown in the last Post.

(Graham) This one shown here, though seemingly ordinary, had some interesting features that I came across again and again throughout my wanderings in Basilicata. Before I go on to explain, let me point out the red writing sprayed on the wall:

Pericolo – danger.

I only came across warnings on buildings twice while looking around. I advise if you want to do the same, be very careful. These buildings are very unstable, due to many reasons; landslip and earthquakes being two of them. Have someone with you.

Back to the interesting thing:

Fast changing Basilicata - Old Roof Tiles — Old Roof Tiles

This was a lean-to section of the building (added later from all the appearances of the stonework). So I guessed that the original outer wall is where the wooden beams are leaning up against it to keep it from collapsing.

I have enlargened a section of stone that jutted out from the wall. It had a smooth circular hole about 2 -3″ in diameter bored through it.

If you look closely at the picture you will see that there are four, placed in the wall at pretty regular intervals.

Fast changing Basilicata - Masseria Detail — Masseria Detail

I came across these same shaped stones in walls in the Sassi in Matera; and in a few of the older towns and villages. Unfortunately I never really gave them much thought, or photographed them until I came across them here – and that was one of the last days of our stay before we left Basilicata. I’m sure they were for tieing up donkeys, before the combustion engine came along.

Fast changing Basilicata - Masseria Guttering Detail — Masseria Guttering Detail

Another thing this building had was an ingenious method of guttering that is still in use everywhere we went; especially on the older buildings, which still retained their old terracotta tiles. These are in the form of a tapering half -sleeve, about 1.5 feet long. Giuseppe told me that the old ones are rare, and hold a good price. They were once made by bending a flat of clay over a man’s thigh! This is what created the ‘right taper’. Apart from covering roofs they were attached end-to-end and hung along a wall to catch the rain.

(Graham.) A rather special one that we stumbled across on the Bank Holiday is written about a little later. We glimpsed it down a tiny lane. It stood below us on the side of a hill, and looked to be in good order from the aerial sticking out of the chimneys, and some cutivated ground close by. It was situated in a sheltered valley in what in Britain would be an ideal position. This was the only one we came across that looked to be liveable. Note the beautifully fashioned chimney. (Graham)

Fast changing Basilicata - Masseria — Masseria

Jackie again:

“These are fast-disappearing. Gosh; I’d love to do that one up,” said Graham. “It’s really beautiful.” We went into one of our favourite fantasies – of how we would restore the building and live in it, maybe letting off part to holidaymakers… We do this all the time, knowing full well that it is just a game – but it’s one we both greatly enjoy.

FAST-CHANGING BASILICATA – LACKING THE LANGUAGE

There was an empty house Graham kept returning to. We saw it nearly every day, whenever our travels took us past Grottole. Looking rather like an abandoned railway station, it was fairly foursquare and red. I don’t quite know what he saw in it. Across the front you could just make out the faded legend Casa Cantinieria Fantavorinna. We know ‘casa’ means ‘house’, so perhaps it belonged to some lady, and the rest was her name. Or perhaps it was a ‘canteen’ – a sort of café. We shall never know. I can find no translation.

FAST-CHANGING BASILICATA – ABANDONMENT

On our way to Matera one day we turned off to look at a village visible from the road. The road sign named it as La Martella. It was mostly in a sorry state; not fully populated, and some houses falling into ruin. Maybe the inhabitants had moved into the little modern hamlet nearby. That was modest; almost like a small corner of an English 1950’s suburb, but probably more comfortable to live in. Before we reached it we saw a once-grand masseria – we discovered that it was called Santa Maria D’irsi and belonged to an important old family of the area.

Fast changing Basilicata - Santa Maria D’irsi — Santa Maria D’irsi

(Graham) When Jackie’s ‘lump’ had finally shrunk, I drove many more miles as we went further afield to see more of Basilicata. We came across more masseria; some small, some huge. All were in ruins, and far from the roads. Often they looked like drowning things lapped by the undulating land. I do hope that somewhere there is a small band of Italians collecting details of these buildings. Finding those faded photos and curling documents – and putting them together with what drawings can be found or made. I did ask Giuseppe if there was any society with an interest in preserving the history of such buildings. All he muttered was that everyone wanted modern houses; somewhere easy. I hope that Basilicata’s vernacular buildings are not all gone before its inhabitants wake up to mourn their passing; and find there is hardly any record left that they once housed a vibrant rural community. (Graham)

Fast changing Basilicata - The Ghosts of Basilicata — One of The Ghosts of Basilicata

Text by – Graham & Jackie Usher, SWWJ. (aka author Debbie Darkin, & ‘Graham Liverpool’ on Trip Advisor.)
Photographs by – Graham Usher.

January 3, 2019

HOSPITAL A&E IN SOUTHERN ITALY.

gusher Medical Emergencies EU Health Service

October 17^th, 2016.

HOSPITAL A&E VISIT – IN MATERA WHILE ON HOLIDAY

(APOLOGIES THAT BECAUSE OF THE NATURE OF THIS POST, THERE ARE NO PICTURES.

WE HOPE THAT THE CONTENT ALONE WILL INTEREST YOU.)

Any hospital A&E (Accident and Emergency Dept.) is not that place one wants to be when on holiday, and in another country it can be intimidating. Here is my account of my brush with the Italian medical system:

We visited the General Hospital in Matera – La Ospitale Madonna della Grazie, Matera.

FROM A NEWS BULLETIN: BASILICATA
A new hospital for Matera and its province. The hospital in Matera is now so run-down and inadequate that the inhabitants of the town and province have been having to seek treatment in hospitals of other regions, especially in the province of Bari. This state of affairs has led to the building of a new hospital complex which will be equipped with the latest technology. The building will be divided into three wings, covering 75,000 m² in all. There will be 10 wards for a total of 28 operational units and 530 beds, 94 of which will be run as a day hospital.

LET ME EXPLAIN THAT I HAVE SINCE LEARNED THAT AT THAT TIME (2016) IT HAD APPLIED FOR REFURBISHMENT. HOPEFULLY THIS IS WELL UNDERWAY FOR WHEN MATERA BECOMES EUROPEAN CAPITAL OF CULTURE IN 2019.

I NOTICE A LUMP

I cannot now remember when I noticed a small, hard lump in my left calf, but it must have been around this date. It did not go away, and when Giuseppe felt it he insisted on taking us to the A&E in Matera.

That was an experience I will not easily forget. It may prove interesting to compare the Italian Health System with our English NHS:

So far, it appears, that once Brexit happens we may still have the advantage of EU Health Care cards to flourish in front of hospital receptionists in the twenty-seven other countries in EU. But this could change, of course. If this great advantage is withdrawn later, only Heaven knows the likely future costs to travelling Brits of falling ill while abroad in Europe. The site you need is:- (LINK) Do use the .org.uk site. Other sites charge for the privilege of supplying the card.

A&E – WHERE TO PARK?

Firstly, Graham could find absolutely nowhere to park, as the road above the steep incline down to the hospital was jam-packed with parked vehicles, as was the winding road down. Graham dropped us off by the main entrance to the ‘Emergencia Ospitale’, then drove slowly on to discover that there was a many-tiered car park built up on the hillside.

A&E – A LONG WAIT? – THE ‘ALLORA’ SHRUG

Giuseppe led me into a smart reception hall, and was soon flirting with the very pretty girl on the desk. “I was at school with her,” he told me. I found that hard to believe – she looked much younger than 39. I cannot remember if there was a lift, but in the event we climbed several stairs, emerging through double doors into a rather shabby, not apparently pristinely clean waiting area.

A&E – WOULD I RECOGNISE MY NAME WHEN CALLED?

There were rows of seats, mostly occupied by women and children, and elderly men. We had to go quite a way down a corridor to find one for me. I was anxious that we would not hear my name called.

It was all a far cry from the NHS. People strolled around, talking loudly to each other and on their mobile phones. Children ran around or played stepping games like ‘Mr Wolf’ with their parents. This did not altogether surprise us, as we had found it true that Italians adore children and parents include them in almost all their activities. We saw, in restaurants, family parties eating very late in the evenings; and a lot of outdoor festivals can last until midnight, with even the youngest children wide awake and participating fully.

WHY DON’T WE TAKE SANDWICHES INTO A&E?

As time went on packets of sandwiches were brought out, and even flasks of coffee. There was a machine selling small bottles of water, but that was it, unless you had someone to nip downstairs to the canteen on the ground floor, which had a better machine, and a few (mainly cake-y) snacks.

I cannot recall if smoking was allowed – probably not; but I was amazed to see folk calmly strolling into the wards or a doctor’s office, even around 10.30 in the morning. It was only after about 90 minutes that I realised this last was in fact, a ‘triage’ facility, where you were assessed for treatment. You did not have a form, or wait to be called; you just walked in.

A&E – HAD THEY FORGOTTEN US?

From time to time various nurses would appear and names were called. People peeled off after them in various directions. Graham, getting weary of waiting, grabbed one of them, and was directed to a desk in a corridor. A young lady who spoke English manned it. He explained how to pronounce our surname – USS-sher, thinking that maybe that was a stumbling block. She said ‘No – it was just a case of waiting our turn.’

A&E – A DOCTOR – AT LAST

After four-and-a-half hours we were ushered into a room with a young woman doctor. She gave me a very thorough examination, and sent me for a local x-ray, (another floor and another wait).

I AM SOMEWHAT EMBARRASSED

This was manned by two middle-aged men. No female nurse was present. I found it a quite embarrassing experience. Not only were these two totally lacking in the famous Latin Lover charm usual in southern Italian men; they were positively brusque with me.

In front of these strangers (and Graham and Giuseppe) I was curtly ordered to strip down to my panties. I hoped despairingly that no pubic hair was visible, or the pad I wore against possible accidents due to coughing, sneezing, laughing: (Or in this case, an unendurable wait). I yearned for the efficiency and consideration of our NHS.

I GET TUMMY-PIERCINGS

I was returned to the kind doctor (after three days, and another three-and-a-half hour wait). She prescribed antibiotics, and four days with legs up. (I stayed in bed and wrote notes for this account, and also read to pass the time; but it was tedious.) She also gave Graham a prescription for syringes, and a serum he must inject into my stomach each day. I must also wear tight support stockings all day every day (for the rest of my life, she said. Phooey to that, but I did wear them until my ‘signing off’ before leaving Basilicata.) I guess she didn’t want to admit me as an ‘in-patient’ on their books – and neither did I!

GRAHAM EXPLAINS – THE PROCESS WITH PRESCRIPTIONS

Before Graham could take the prescriptions to a pharmacy he had to find an obscure address on the outskirts of the city, and there go into lengthy explanations.

I hand over to him to describe his experience:

Hi! Graham here:

I HIT THE LANGUAGE BARRIER

Getting the drugs, needles and syringes was more complicated than I had imagined. Firstly, after leaving the hospital all the people I needed to speak to could not speak English. Despite three months ‘learning’ Italian, my grasp of the language was less than basic; in any event, no natives of Basilicata seemed to understand my attempts.

What I also didn’t realise was that I was being sent to a place where someone would sign an authorisation allowing me to have the drugs; though this was not where I would eventually get them.

DOWN AMONG THE DRUG ADDICTS

The building I had been directed to turned out to be where drug addicts go to get their fixes. I was let in through a security door by a guard.

Luckily, while in the waiting room I was on my own. The place was pretty daunting, with bars at all the doors and windows. I was eventually ushered in to see a very young doctor. As you can imagine, this took ages, as he had no English and my Italian was limited. After some verbal acrobatics on both our parts, I was told he could not help me! I needed to see a senior colleague. He would be at another clinic – in another part of town, later that day.

MORE GUARDS – MORE BARRED WINDOWS

The next place I went to was almost opposite Matera’s Railway Station. It was on the ground floor of a shabby-looking block of flats. This area, like the first I had visited, had bars at the doors and windows and a security guard at the door. My admittance was much easier than the first time. It seemed that the nice young doctor had rung ahead and told them to expect me.

A WARM WELCOME – AN ITALIAN BEAUTY – EASY MONEY

As soon as I opened my mouth the guard gave me a broad smile.

“Tu Inglese!” he exclaimed, and opened the door wide. Within a few moments I was escorted into a shabby office and introduced to the doctor, who turned out to be a dazzlingly beautiful young woman in her mid-twenties. She quickly read the document I gave her, along with my passport and Jackie’s EU health card. With a flourish she signed it, and asked for 25€. I was later to find out that this was her fee for signing the prescription, and not the cost of the drugs.

WHAT COMES NEXT? WHERE DO I GET THE MEDICINES?

I stood there with the prescription in my hand. What came next? She just waved a hand at me. “Tu vai.”

“Who gives me the drugs?”

She frowned then seemed to comprehend. “Ah, La Farmacia.”

“Which one?” She shrugged her shoulders then scribbled a name on a piece of paper and gave it to me.

Great. I could now at last pick up the medicines and get back to Jackie – and cook a meal for us both.

IN SOUTHERN ITALY IT AIN’T THAT SIMPLE

My troubles were over, I thought with relief.

Not so:

When I finally found the pharmacy ,it was closed – and wouldn’t be open for another of couple of hours. So I ‘phoned Giuseppe and asked him to tell Jackie I would stay in Matera until they opened. I then took off to look at a few more places of interest. When I went back they told me they didn’t have the drug. It would be available in a couple of days.

NOT FOR THE FIRST TIME – A SCHOOLGIRL COMES TO MY RESCUE

Luckily they had a schoolgirl helping out. She, at least, happened to have good English. Through her I was able to tell them I needed the drug urgently. Was there any way I could get it quicker?

The Pharmacist raised his hand.

“Uno momento.” He picked up a telephone and made several calls; each totally incomprehensible to my ears. Beside me the young girl stay silent, smiling at me. I raised an enquiring eyebrow.

“Signor, he is ringing round other shops in Matera to see if anyone stocks it.” Suddenly he triumphantly put down the phone and gabbled out to something to the girl.

MORE EXPENSE

That was how I finally got Jackie’s medicene. Oh, I also had to pay about 75€ for THAT, on top of the Prescription signature charged by the glamourpuss doctor. Needless to say, I never claimed this money back once we were finally back home in England in December. Take it as my contribution to a continuing EU.

Jackie again:

I SWELL LIKE A BALLOON

When it was obvious that the tummy injections were causing me to swell like a balloon I decided to drop them, and I was fine thereafter. I had to go back to be checked just before we left the area. The nice lady doctor signed me off, with a sheet to give to my own doctor when I returned in December.

A DRAMATIC BLACK SPOT

The sheet had a dramatic black spot, showing the lump that the x-ray had detected. The lump had shrunk since then, and was almost gone when I was examined when back home.

I was very grateful for the good treatment I had received, despite all the waits and running around that Giuseppe, Graham and I had endured…

Text by – Jackie Usher, SWWJ. (aka author Debbie Darkin, & ‘Graham Liverpool’ on Trip Advisor.)
Design by – Graham Usher.

October 8, 2018

EXPLORING THE SASSI

gusher Ancient sites, Tourist Town UNESCO World Heritage Site

FIRST A COFFE BREAK

Tear drop - Exploring the Sassi — Tear drop

It was mid-morning by the time we retraced our way back through the ravine to start exploring the Sassi. The day had become rather warm, and so were we after climbing up through the narrow alleyways and steps until reaching the ‘Teardrop’ in the Piazzetta Pascoli on the Via D Ridola. It was a large Bronze sculpture in front of the Museum of National Medieval and Modern Art – Palazzo Lanfranchi. This is where I knew we’d find good coffee and ciabatta – not that I’ve ever had bad coffee in Italy. Leaving as we did before 7.00am we’d had nothing more than an espresso and a couple of biscuits, and the bottles of water we’d carried with us.

Steps down into the Sasso Caveoso - Exploring the Sassi — Steps down into the Sasso Caveoso

EXPLORING THE SASSI CAVEOSO

After a little rest we started off again, towards the really ruinous section of the Sasso Caveoso. The Museum was a good place to start to explore this area. To the right side of the building is a railed terrace overlooking the Sasso, and from there a set of steps led down into cool, meandering passageways.

Meandering passageway leading through the Sasso Caveoso - Exploring the Sassi — Meandering passageways

It wasn’t long before we had passed from the restored part of the city, where the buildings were actually lived in, or used for holiday lets. Now we found ourselves in the more interesting untouched part, because we could glimpse at how these buildings were constructed, and how most were facades in front of rough-hewn caves.

Some of the paths we walked on were the actual roofs of buildings below us. There was one building that had partially collapsed, showing that the interior ceiling was made of a stone arch, which had supported the pavement on top.

The further from the centre we went the more degraded the buildings became, with some areas completely roped off. There was an arrow pointing to the Convicinio S Antonio. After a gentle climb we came upon an elegant portal with an arch that led into a rectangular courtyard, onto which four rock-churches faced. Unfortunately, the gate was closed. We had to satisfy ourselves with reading a notice, and peering through the barred gate. Later I Googled the Convent, because we were both intrigued by its age, and how well-cared for it looked amongst the ruins.

EXPLORING THE SASSI’S CHURCHES

Convent Gate - Exploring the Sassi — Convent Gate

Convent courtyard - Exploring the Sassi — Convent courtyard

The first church after the entrance arch was once known as the ‘Chiesa di San Primo’, but is now commonly referred to as the Church of the TEMPE CADUTE after the name given to the entire district, which was continually at the mercy of rock falls.

An opening on the left leads to the Church of Sant’Eligio. Next to it, also known as the Annunziata, is the Crypt of Sant’Eligio. The crypt is dedicated to SANT’ELIGIO, who is regarded as the guardian saint of domestic animals. He was much venerated in the past by peasant and agrarian communities such as the Materani. The peasants, shepherds and herdsmen used to bring their mules, horses and oxen into the piazzetta at crack of dawn on 1st December, his feast day. They would entreat his protection for their lifeline – their animals – as they circled the column with its statue of St. Eligio that stands in the square, by the church.

Then there are the Crypt of San Donato & the Crypt of St. Anthonioy. There was a huge amount of information to be had, so I’ve left a link. It’s worth looking at this site before you visit the convent. Unfortunately, we went back twice while we were staying there and never found it open – and could not find out who to contact to get a visit.

http://www.sassiweb.com/matera-podcast/sasso-caveoso/convicinio-s-antonio/

I also recommend that you Google images of the convent.

A FEW MORE IMAGES OF THE RUINS IN THE SASSO CAVEOSO

A once humble dwelling - Exploring the Sassi — A once humble dwelling

Doorway in the living rock - Exploring the Sassi — Doorway in the living rock

Meandering passageways - Exploring the Sassi — Meandering passageways

WORLD’S BEST ICE CREAM

It was early afternoon when I drove Vivien drove back to the farm and disturbed Jackie on her day off. To be honest, she was pleased to see us, as she’d spent it catching up on laundry and general cleaning of the flat. When I suggested going back to Matera to stroll around the top part of the city – and especially when ice cream was mentioned, there was no contest. We had a quick clean up and then all clambered into the Golf and trundled back to Matera for that stroll and ice cream.

I actually chanced my arm and found a parking place on the Via D Ridola just behind the Museo Lanfranchi. It is so much easier when you have a Disabled blue badge.

On the Ridola we bought our ice creams from a popular Gelato, reckoned by many to be one of the best in Italy: Il Vizi Degli Angeli Laboratorio di Gelateria Artisanale. Jackie urged Vivien to try the fresh fig variety, which we so far do not get to taste in England (I don’t know about London, but it’s not obtainable in our neck of the woods.) She enthused about i,t just as we had. With them in hand, we licked and strolled through the streets full of interesting little shops, and the two elegant but still historic piazzas at the top of the Sassi. There we could look out over the alleyways and stairs we had explored in the morning, and also window-shop.

Via D Ridola - Exploring the Sassi — Via D Ridola

WORLDLY ELEGANCE

At the Piazza Vittbrio Vento we sat on a sunbaked wall to rest our feet and people-watch. The place was a swarm of activity. There was a wedding party posing for photographs nearby, (because at this particular spot there was a balcony with a spectacular view over the Sasso Barisano with the Cathedral on the skyline). Visitors made way for the bride and groom to pose by the low railing, and then for their party as well. We were all riveted, staring at one young woman who looked particularly striking in pants striped yellow and red, topped by a lime-green bolero jacket. She had a most elegant haircut. (Jackie was convinced I would have a photo of her. I don’t know why…)

Sunset over the Sassi - Exploring the Sassi — Sunset over the Sassi

Maybe she was a professional model; she was certainly the most eye-catching woman in the Piazza, and we all agreed ‘she knew it, too.’

AS DARKNESS FALLS –

TUMMIES RUMBLE

As the sun turned a hot red and sank in the sky, we watched as dusk laid its clocked hand over the city, and one by one, lights in the Sassi twinkled on. It was only when I voiced that I was hungry that we all realised we’d not really eaten much all day. And at ‘Let’s go to Peppino’s’, Vivien was heard to say ‘Who’s Peppino?’

Half an hour later we were in Miglionico, sitting in Peppino’s dining room, almost dribbling from the smells coming from his kitchen. Vivien was looking around her so I told her ‘Don’t worry, there is no menu.’

I can’t remember what was served, only to say that nothing was left on our plates. Peppino’s bountiful, simple, quality fare seemed a fitting end to our day finding out about the harsh life that had been lived by peasants, where they made best use of the very basic food they could produce by their own efforts.

This blog written by – Graham Usher.

Most other blog text by Jackie Usher, SWWJ. (aka author Debbie Darkin, & ‘Graham Liverpool’ on Trip Advisor.)
Design and Photographs and occasional text by – Graham Usher.

October 5, 2018

MATERA AT SUNRISE – WE SEE WILD BOAR!

gusher Ancient sites, Tourist Town UNESCO World Heritage Site

I CHICKEN OUT OF CROSSING THE GRAVINA.

Before Vivien’s flight back to the UK on 12^th October I insisted that she and Graham have a day to themselves where they could explore Matera further. Much as I longed to go into and around that ancient troglodyte city I knew that all those steps and slopes would defeat me.

Besides – they would also be able to explore the River Gravina and the other side of the gorge, where the early cave dwellings and very early Christian cave churches were. (The frescoes in these are especially precious.) To reach them they’d have to take numerous steps down to one of those swaying rope-type bridges that are slung from side to side.

I shuddered from the mere thought of it, even if I could have managed to get down there (and more importantly, up again.) I have no head for heights. (So from now on Graham will write this post.)

EARLY MORNING START TO CATCH MATERA AT SUNRISE

Hi- Graham here, with my account –

I wanted to see Matera at sunrise so we left the Masseria Mazzapede while it was still dark. Though wanting to get to Matera as soon as we could, I drove slowly down the rocky track. The sky was quickly lightening in the east, and the outline of Matera stood out in black silhouette on the high hill in front of us as we sped down the almost empty Strada Statala 7 (the fast road in). My hope was to be at the top of the ravine when the sun broke over the far hill, so that we could watch the light chase the shadows out of the Sassi as it climbed free of the land. I had once seen a film of this happening, and the colours of the Sassi being revealed as the light became more intense was something I wanted to witness at first hand.

I parked up on Via Santo Stefano, close to the junction that took us down into the Sassi. Be warned; unless you can read the ‘Zona Traffico Limitato’ signs properly, don’t disregard them. The Sassi is one of the areas in Matera that is regulated by them. We have twice in Italy unwittingly crossed such boundaries – once only by yards. On each occasion we were shocked when we received large bills (over £100 sterling) through the post a full year after returning home.

WE WEREN’T DISAPPOINTED

Catching the early Sun in Matera at Sunrise — Catching the early Sun in Matera

A little disappointed that the sun had already shaken off its earthly shackles, Vivien and I started down into the Sassi. As we came up to the Convent of Saint Agostino we had a clear view over the Sasso Barisano to the Cattedrale di Maria Santissima della Bruna. It stood on a high central spine of the ravine that split the Sassi in two, the other half being called Sasso Caveoso.

We were lucky, for although the cathedral was already lit up by the lemony light of sunrise, sharply golden against a cloudless, pale sky, the sun had yet to wash the shadows out of the more secret places of the Sasso Barisano. As we stood there the light seemed to run like water over the old stones of the city, washing the grey tomb of early dawn to transform it into a live, magical city of dreams. Even the birds, hitherto silent, gave voice in a surrounding, resounding chorus. The whole glorious transformation took less than a minute, leaving us speechless. We carried on silently, down to the entry point into the ravine itself, at a car park on the Via Madonna delle Virtù.

Going down into the Ravine - Matera at Sunrise — Going down into the Ravine

DOWN THROUGH COOLNESS TO A SURPRISE

It is a well-worn track that leads to the bottom of the ravine, where the Gravina di Matera runs through it. I advise at least stout trainers or walking shoes. I was wearing sandals, and if I should go again I’d wear something more supportive. Though it is neither the steepest, nor deepest gorge I’ve been in – you still need to be moderately fit.

Shrine amongst the Rocks - Matera at Sunrise — Shrine amongst the Rocks

As the track snaked down we were able to see more of it than peering over from the top. In places it was honeycombed with caves, and on the far side, in what seemed an inaccessible location, stood what looked to be a shrine in front of some caves. There are many cave churches in the ravine, and we were hoping to explore at least one.

It took us about ten minutes to reach the river and although it wasn’t that deep, it was flowing pretty swiftly. From the signs on both sides of the banks we learned that the Gravina could become a raging torrent.

The Gravina - Matera at Sunrise — The Gravina

We were standing there gazing at the swirling water when movement on the far bank caught our attention. Would you believe it? Right in front of us, no more than thirty feet away, trotting in crocodile fashion, came a line of five wild boar. Presumably the two bulkier and darker-coated were adults. They were followed by five smaller, lighter coated, showing dark spots on their backs – obviously their offspring. Bringing up the rear, the runt scrabbled along to keep up.

When talking about these creatures Giuseppe had said that the chance of seeing one was very rare, as they were extremely shy and kept away from habitation. They evidently hadn’t seen us or reckoned us as a threat, because they didn’t hasten their speed as they came adjacent to where we were standing. We deduced they were taking a well worn, if very narrow track that wove around large rocks and bushes. Finally, not slackening their pace and following the leader, they climbed a steep little bank and disappeared upstream amongst the undergrowth. As it turned out from the sign on our side of the river, we were to go the same way. In the distance we could make out a flimsy looking suspension bridge.

Vivien and I glanced at each other, having the same thought. We both then came to the same conclusion.

‘They’ll be long gone by the time we get there.’

The Suspension Bridge - Matera at Sunrise — The Suspension Bridge

THE WATER RUSHING 30 FEET BELOW US

The Walls of the Ravine - Matera at Sunrise — The Walls of the Ravine

The bridge, when we reached it, was a much more substantial job than seen from a distance. Even so, it was single passage only. To put minds at rest – even Jackie could have made it across, and she hates heights and anything that feels the slightest bit unstable. The two base cables were anchored to large concrete blocks that had been sunk into the bedrock. From each concrete block stood two thick concrete pillars about 4.5ft high. The top cables anchored to the back of the concrete block ran over the top of the pillars and were parallel with the base cables for the entire length of the bridge. Attached to top and bottom cables was a steel woven mesh, so fine that only a small child could put their hand through. The gangway itself was probably no more than 1.5-2 ft across, and made of thick narrow boards, maybe 6-8 inches wide, (There is no appreciable gap to look down between them.) This allows the bridge to flex, and not become too stiff.

Like all rope bridges there is a slight up-and-down movement with every step, and also swaying; but if you walk in a gentle, smooth way and not jerkily, the movement is not alarming. For people like my wife Jackie, these bridges are safe if they are kept up – and it’s worth the knee tremble. (Sez you, Darling – Jackie).

By the time we had crossed the bridge the sun was fully up, though deep down in the ravine it was still shady and cool. The climb up the other side to the top took half an hour, allowing a couple of five minute breathers, but once on top it was worth the climb. The whole of the Sassi was spread out before us in the early morning light and we were all alone.

The Sasso Barisano - Matera at Sunrise — The Sasso Barisano

THE CITY OF STONES

Vivien gazes at the Sasso Caveoso - Matera at Sunrise — Vivien gazes at the Sasso Caveoso

The Sassi has two very distinctive areas, with the Cathedral and its Duomo Piazza being the most prominent feature that separated the Sasso Barisano from the Sasso Caveoso. What was also very evident was that the Barisano was in a better state of renovated repair. The further left we looked in the Caveoso section the more tumbledown and ruinous it became. At the party Giuseppe had taken us to when we had just arrived I had met a couple who worked in Matera’s tourism department. They had mentioned that a section of the Sassi, instead of being handed over to be cleaned up, would be conserved and kept as it was so that future generations would know how the Sassi had been when known as ‘The Shame of Italy’- and so that sad end to a once-proud history was not altogether lost and completely prettified as was fast happening to the rest of the Sassi.

Now, looking from our vantage point, I mentioned this to Vivien – and we both agreed that it was a wise decision.

The unrestored part of the Sasso Caveoso - Matera at Sunrise — The unrestored part of the Sasso Caveoso

Later, when studying a map of the area where we were standing, I found it was called Parco Murgia Timone, and that within two hours it would be full of coaches and hundreds of tourists. We stopped at four of the cave churches while we were there. Unfortunately, they were all locked, and although we tried to peer inside we could not see the famous frescoes that adorned some of the walls. We stood just above St Vito alla Murgia and I endeavoured to take a series of pictures of the Sassi that I could later stitch together. It wasn’t altogether successful, so I have not included them here.

Text by – Graham & Jackie Usher, SWWJ. (aka author Debbie Darkin, & ‘Graham Liverpool’ on Trip Advisor.)
Photographs by – Graham Usher.

February 19, 2018

Giuseppe & Me

gusher Italian long stay Masseria Mazzapede, Rough tracks

Masseria Mazzapede

We Finally Meet The Man and Make a New Friend!

The ‘me’ in the title is Graham and the new friend is Giuseppe. These are my recollections of arriving at the Masseria.

I drove around Grottole only once before we found La Vecchia Appia. I picked the bar for the simple reason that there was a parking space close by. When we walked into the bar I ordered two small beers for Jackie and myself and asked the Signora whether she knew Giuseppe Riccardi? Her face brightened with a smile.

‘Si; e un amico di mio figlio.’
It came out so fast, but Jackie caught ‘amico’ –
‘Friend, amico?’ she asked
‘Si, mio figlio.’

For the last nine months we had been trying to learn Italian via CD’s and also a nice little guy on the Internet. We felt comfortable that we had a rudimentary grasp; that was, until we crossed the border into Italy and found that everything we had learned seemed to have flown out of our heads like captive birds from a left-open cage, leaving us with dry mouths when confronted with a native.

‘Mio’, we knew was, ‘my’; so ‘Figlio’ had something to do with her. ‘Famiglia’ is ‘family’; so Jackie deduced it had to do with a member of her family and anything with ‘io’ on the end is generally male. Jackie ventured. ‘Your son?’
First she frowned, then comprehended. ‘Si, Son: Mio figlio.’

While this had been going on I had pulled out my phone and rung Giuseppe. When he answered I passed the phone to the Signora and asked her to tell him where we were. What we didn’t know at the time was how lucky we had been in picking that particular bar. It turned out not many people in Grottole knew Giuseppe.

Giuseppe & me-3-Giuseppe - our new friend — Our new friend Giuseppe

He must have been in the village already, because in a matter of seconds he materilised at our side. Giuseppe was a tall, lean guy in his late thirties. He had wild black curls and a tanned, olive-skinned face, which lifted into a charming smile, showing off his strong, even white teeth. He was effusive in his welcome and there was a twinkle in his intense, almost black eyes.

‘I will guide you,’ he said. ‘Just follow my car.’

I would never have found the farmhouse on our own. It was described on the web as ‘just outside Grottole’. We had picked it for that reason, wanting to be part of a small Italian community; all necessary research for my next book.

After a short conversation we discovered that Giuseppe’s English was near on perfect. We got into our respective cars; his was a slightly battered, silver Punto. What the heck, I thought; he’s a farmer. He shot off up the road with me trying to follow. I’m by no means a slow driver, but Italian drivers are notoriously fast and a lot of them, when they get behind the wheel, appear crazy. I love them as a people and a nation, but not as drivers. (But I’ll moan about that later.)

A Little Bee…

We soon forked off onto a narrow, twisting lane, dropping down steeply in a series of hairpin bends. I tried to keep the Punto in sight. Suddenly Giuseppe came to a screeching, sliding halt, leaving a smear of rubber on the road behind him. Luckily, having some distance between us, my stop was more controlled. From out of a cloud of smoke an old, battered three-wheeled Apé chugged into sight. These funny little three-wheelers with a trailer incorporated, (covered with a plastic hood reminiscent of an oxygen tent) are synonymous with rural life all over Italy and France. The Apé passed Giuseppe’s Punto as if it was gasping for breath, whereupon his vehicle disappeared off in a cloud of dust. The Ape came abreast of us, and the driver peered into our car with unabashed animosity. He couldn’t have shouted louder, “What the hell are you doing on my patch of road?”

Giuseppe & me-4-an old country Ape and new friend — It was vehicle similar to this

Deciding not to throw caution to the wind and tear off after Giuseppe, I drove quietly down from the high ridge where Grottole was perched; the road making ever sharper bends to the valley bottom. When the driving would allow I would glance at Jackie, who was keeping very quiet.

‘What?’ she eventually snapped.
‘I thought you said we were just outside the village,’ I complained.
‘That’s what he told me. It’s definitely in his website. Maybe he’s giving us a grand tour and we’ll find ourselves at the other end.’
‘Well let’s hope so; we’ve already been driving for over ten minutes and gone nearly ten kilometres. Let’s hope he has the sense to wait at any junction we come to; otherwise we’ll be lost.’

I was tired from the long drive and concerned as to where we were going. Although it was late afternoon, it was still hot. We came out of a bend and and levelled out. There a hundred yards ahead, was the Punto, straddling the road at a roundabout. As soon as he caught sight of us our new friend was off again as though the hounds of hell were after him. This time I was determined to keep up, and put my foot down.

Scraping the Bottom.

We had gone a total of twelve kilometres when the Punto’s right-hand indicator started blinking and Giuseppe swung his car onto a farm track. I followed suit, and then came to a sliding halt on loose gravel. Gripping the wheel I watched in dismay as Giuseppe drove the Punto, grantedly at a slower pace, on one verge and a central rocky ridge. It was obvious that much larger farm vehicles used this way. Two deep furrows, forming wide tracks with high verges and the humped, barren central ridge, wound up between two fields. which would tear out the undercarriage of any low vehicle like a Punto or a Golf. For some reason, halfway up, Giuseppe swapped sides. I say up; but not as steep as the hill he had taken us down, thank God.

Giuseppe & me-5-our new friend farm track was like this — A track similar to this though rougher and steeper that our new friend used

‘What are you waiting for? If he can do it so can you!’ I said to myself.

Yes, I knew I could drive up there. I had tackled far worse roads; once in Crete, in the mountains with a thunderstorm clapping around our ears: but that was in a hired car, and it didn’t have to get us home again three thousand-odd miles away. Yes, the Punto had made it, but then Giuseppe had probably gone up that track many thousands of times. There was no knowing how many cars he had wrecked to gain that experience. From the looks of the Punto, it was closer to the graveyard than a showroom. There was also the fact that his car was empty and ours was laden with luggage, which probably weighed as much as three adults sitting in the back seats.

I started off, put the Golf into second gear and kept it there. I was not going to try and prove anything to anyone. Both verge and central ridge were wide and stable enough, though the car rocked over the uneven surface. We made easy going until we got to where Giuseppe switched sides. Before us was a pot hole that could swallow a tank: well, maybe not a tank, but it wasn’t something I was going to venture into, not even on foot without a rope. The verges and ridge had been worn down where vehicles had negotiated round it. As I swapped sides without mishap our car jolted and tilted alarmingly.

It took us a good three or four minutes to traverse up to where Giuseppe had disappeared over a brow of the hill and the dust was already resettling from his passing. We came over the top and the track levelled out, became even, and then turned to laid concrete. The ground dropped a little and we ran through large green metal gates into an orderly concrete farmyard. Ahead to our right was a two-storeyed white modern house looking nothing like the one on Giuseppe’s website.

At the far end of the yard was the Punto, and close by two large cream shaggy-haired dogs, and a small, feisty rat-catcher. They stood their ground, barking ferociously. A hand came out of the car and waved us forward, then the Punto jerked on and disappeared between two large shrubs. With Giuseppe gone the dogs turned their attention to us, so we quickly raised our windows.

When I reached the bushes I could see another, smaller track. This one was not so deeply rutted, though it had far more pot holes, and was hemmed in by foliage. I was unable to miss all of them and winced at each jarring jolt. We proceeded cautiously up, with the crescendo of barking slowly fading as we neared another set of gates. At last I could see that the track now had a good surface of tarmac, though old, with spots where grass was spiking through.

Giuseppe & me-6- Our new friend had a dog - Nero — Our new friend had not trained Nero well

Unfortunately, right before the gate where the tarmac finished, storms had gouged out the earth, creating a deep step. How deep wasn’t clear; it was shaded by the trees. There was a nasty grinding sound as something under the car caught the edge of the step. I didn’t think stopping or going back was an option, so pressed my foot on the gas. There was a clank – and we were over the step. Twenty yards further on a sleek young black dog came into view, wagging his tail excitedly, Giuseppe by his side, grinning like a schoolboy. He lifted his hands in the air.

‘No problem; si? Come; you can park just round the corner. I will help you with your luggage.’

As soon as we got out I checked under the car and found no oil leaks; the exhaust was as firmly secure as ever, with no holes or dents. The brake lines were intact; the only thing I could see was some metal scraped clean from one of the jacking points. We had been lucky, but if the hole wasn’t filled in something worse was likely to happen. Giuseppe assured me:

‘We’ve had bad storms for many weeks. I have men coming to fill in the potholes, domani.’

I was to hear the word domani (tomorrow) many times over the next nine days. At that moment I stayed silent about those ‘storms and rain’ over the last two weeks. I didn’t like to contradict our new friend, but for the last fourteen days we’d driven through a heatwave.

‘Okay, how about a hand with the luggage?’

Daft Young Dog.

The excitable dog became a hazard, dashing in and out of our legs and tripping us up, until Giuseppe lost his patience and locked him away. We took everything out of the car and carried it up two flights of steps to the first floor. This would be ours, except for the two rooms at the front of the house. Unfortunately, Giuseppe explained, the laminated floor had only just arrived and the carpenters would be laying it in the next two to three days. He gave a shrug and put it down to the bad storms. All the furniture for our rooms was stacked in one of the front rooms. We would sleep in the other, smaller front room – and use the shower downstairs.

What could we say? The rent was low and it was ‘only for a couple of days’. At least we had one compensation; the smaller bedroom opened onto a wide balcony with a wonderful view; over the countryside and down to a large lake (Lago di San Giuliano). And in welcoming manner our host was cooking us a meal; we were to rest, and leave everything to him. So we sat there, wineglasses in hand, and soaked in the view as the light faded from the sky. The whirring sound of cicadas rising and falling, took us back to when we had lived in New Orleans. At least we could rest for a while, and hopefully everything would sort itself in a few days. And I already really liked the guy!

Giuseppe & me-7- lago di San Giuliano - our new friend irrigated his olive trees from this lake — Giuseppe – our new friend – irrigated his young olive trees from lago di San Giuliano

Text by – Graham Usher, SoA. ‘Graham Liverpool’ on Trip Advisor.)
Photographs by – Graham Usher.
Thanks to Google maps – Most of the images have been taken by Graham, though in this blog the vintage Ape came from other sources.