There was so much more Matera to explore. This was the day we went back to do just that, and Graham bought a piece of art. We’d both been going back to admire it ever since we took that ‘taxi’ trip around the Sassi with Lolly. (Click here to take you to the taxi blog)
We’d been walking around after Andrea the Sassi-taxi driver had said his friendly farewell that day. Just off one of the upper squares of ‘old’ Matera we came across this pottery and ceramic studio. In the window were ceramic ‘Lord of the Rings’ type pieces. These were colourful and intricately worked by the young man at the desk:-Raffaele Pentasuglia at Studio D’Arte Raffaele Pentasuglia
But it was a collection of plain terra-cotta studies that drew us both.
MORE MATERA – ‘AS IT ONCE WAS’
“They are my father’s work,” the young man said. “They are mostly about characters who used to live in the Sassi. That’s where he lived until they cleared everyone out.”
I loved the group of musicians – so faithfully depicted; so lifelike – but they were 150 euros each. I felt you needed at least three. Too much to plunder from our holiday budget!
Donkey sculpture
MORE MATERA – MEMORIES OF WORKING WITH A DONKEY
Then – at the back of the studio – I saw the terra-cotta model of a couple on a donkey. Weary from working in the fields, the man sat in front, with the saddlebag holding a bottle. Behind him, his wife clung on. A bundle of twigs was strapped to her back, and another of the durum wheat from which they make the delicious Matera bread. The donkey looked tired, too; patiently climbing over cobbles.
Donkey sculpture
“Oh, Graham – I love this.”
“How much?” he had asked warily. It was 200 euros – but clearly worth it. With a few strokes and pits, the expressions were on the faces. The donkey looked so alive; about to step forward off its base. But our holiday money had to last.
WE MEET THE SCULPTOR – AND ENJOY IMMEDIATE RAPPORT
So we looked in on it from time to time, and I think nobody was more surprised than that young
Donkey sculpture
man when we bought it.
“It’s for our wedding anniversary as well as your birthday,” said Graham.
A bonus for us: The father, who had sculpted our new acquisition, was in the studio that day. I was able to take both his hands and thank him. His son translated that the piece would be treasured. It would always remind us of the Sassi of Matera, and its story.
“Mi mamma e papa,” the father said, indicating the subjects. “And Pepino our donkey. He was an essential member of our family.”
Their likenesses now hold pride of place on our mantelpiece.
MORE MATERA SOUVENIRS
Also that day we bought a few modest souvenirs of good quality, and had a very good authentic local lunch in a small ristorante at the top of the Sassi. We chose it because it was full of locals – and oh, how we enjoyed this simple food cooked with flair. The place was called Al Falco Grillaio on the Via San Biagio. I remember that it was very affordable.
Al Falco Grillaio
LEVI’S PENTAPTYCH PAINTING:
MORE MATERA – LOCAL LANDSCAPE – SHAMING SASSI – ROUSING RANT
Then we went into the Museo Nazionale d’Arte Medievale e Moderna della Basilicata Palazzo Lanfranchi – and were rewarded by confronting the very famous, enormous five-panelled painting by Carlo Levi himself. It demonstrated very acutely how life had been in the Sassi, and the living conditions of its starving inhabitants.
In the first picture we saw a white-faced, thin, tired mother and her many children crammed into their cave-room. They were almost swamped amongst other ragged inhabitants. The next panel showed a doctor (Carlo Levi’s sister, apparently) injecting children outside their dwellings. The scene shifted to a mother and child returning home on a laden donkey. Her toil-aged husband was walking by their side through the bare clay hills, which at that time formed most of Basilicata. The fourth, much livelier painting had a red-haired young man exhorting a crowd to form a union, or something of the sort. The background is clearly the town square of Levi’s ‘Gagliano’. It made me determined to track this place down and visit it. Last of all were some grey figures that almost melted and disappeared into the bare strata of rock and clay behind them.
The paintings, though loose and free in style, were incredibly evocative of the people and places they depicted.
Here is a link to a youtube video:- Il dipinto “Lucania ’61” di Carlo Levi, a Matera – Storie Enogastronomiche Published on 26 Apr 2018. Graham took individual photos but feels the video he has left a link to will give you a far better feel to the painting.
Model superimposed on Matera’s unrestored buildings
If it rains on your holiday in Italy, do not be put off! Here is what happened when my bad leg was nearly healed and we took off one gloomy morning. It got worse; heavy skies, pelting rain. But it turned out to bring us some of our best memories of our three-month slow tour.
WE KITTEN-SIT
One of the many Kittens
We had not yet visited Salandra or Stigliano.
I was still recovering from my leg, but tired of staying in bed. Giuseppe had to go to Rome on business. He stayed with his brother, no doubt.
So we were left to care for the kittens (seven now, with two ‘new’ babies) and ‘the Dog’. He was Nero to us, though by now Elena had named him Bruno. He answered readily to both names.
Basically a sweet-natured animal, he was totally confused by being love-starved. (And quite often food-starved as well, I suspect, when Giuseppe stayed away for days at a time). As our gentlemanly, genial host repeatedly explained, ‘This is a farm, and I need an alert guard dog to protect the property.’ We have to accept that even in our country some farmers take this view – and without being a farmer one cannot question that its validity.
Ce La Vie! Autumn approached. It felt very cold one morning at 15C. I wondered, ‘how are we going to cope with December at home?’
RAINY DAY – FINDING LOCAL COLOUR FOR A CRIME NOVEL
While I was laid up Graham was getting on nicely with writing a crime story about a lovable, fat Italian Detective Inspector. He found plentiful material in the area to provide ‘colour’. As well as the regional food there are boar, wolves and deer in the woods and around the lake, where we came across a snake (off-putting). Boar and even wolves I can just about walk amongst, but snakes…
Lago San Guiliano
RAINY DAY WALK BY THE LAKE
About Lago Giuliano: it was a reservoir for Matera, and had been built in the 1950’s.
One day we decided to brave the wolves, despite Giuseppe’s insistence that they had already moved down in this comparatively warm weather at the end of October. Our scepticism grew when he added bears to the list when talking to me; just how gullible does he think I am?
One of my first outings in the support stockings was to explore this tourist attraction nearby. Not for its boats and swimming (at least not when we went down – everything was closed). We went for the peace and the guided wildlife walks. On our second visit, when I could walk further, we went there expressly to use their services but we found the Wildlife Centre also closed. However, we saw plenty of flora and fauna to interest us.
RAINY DAY WOODS – WHAT NO WOLVES? – WEASELS INSTEAD
It was not really raining on THAT day – just a brief shower.
Lake Giuliano is not a very large lake, but it is very beautiful. There is a road right around it, so we moved off after mooching around in the woods at our end. We spotted many attractive birds, even egrets. Further on we stopped to admire a little island. We caught swift movement in the bushes. We worried – a fearsome boar? A wolf perhaps? But no – we kept still; the creature emerged – a weasel.
We got back in the car and found a rusty but attractive sign for a restaurant. The wide gates just off the road were open, so we drove up until we found some more, larger gates – locked this time.
Through them we could see an attractive complex, with the restaurant at its centre. I looked up the place on the Internet and it appears very pleasing; a sort of holiday village as well as the restaurant. The name of the place bears out some of Giuseppe’s claims; it is called
Agriturismo Tenuta la Volpe, which translates into Farmhouse Estate of the Fox.
GRAHAM IS GIVEN A GIFT
Graham was doing all the shopping in Miglionico. On one such visit he obtained for my cousin Clive a nice piece of olive root with twisted markings: Vincenzo, who had inherited some very small, old olive groves, found it and gave it to him.
He took Graham to his house and his family ‘cave’, deep beneath. It is a storeroom full of old farm implements and other fascinating stuff. Graham values this new fast-formed friendship, and has a great respect for Vincenzo, who is very kind and courteous.
23rd October:
RAINY DAY EXCURSION – DEFYING DOCTOR’S ORDERS
Our highly enjoyable visits to Salandra and Stigliano happened this way:
That morning, we did a big laundry wash. After giving Graham time to put in an hour or two on his writing, we opted to ignore the doctor’s orders for me to stay in bed. Life was too short!
Instead, despite threatening rain, we decided to venture again into the nearby Regional Park of Gallipoli. We would take a roundabout route I’d printed back in England. (I was pretty sure we’d find where those two chaps on the telly went to see ‘the best’ boar sausages made).
Regional Park of Gallipoli
SALANDRA & STIGLIANO – A CHANGE OF PLAN
Finding Salandra was a case of Serendipity.
Our Rainy Day tour started like this:
Graham noticed that we had already been to two of the places on my previously planned route. So I modified it. It was Graham’s turn reading the book ‘Christ Stopped at Eboli’. He was currently learning about Stigliano in the 1930s. So we chose to go there instead.
RAINY DAY IN SALANDRA
Chiesa di Sant Antonio
We stopped first in Salandra, a charming and very clean little town. Apart from the very old building housing the municipal records we did not see much evidence of a ‘Citta Mediaevale’. Perhaps there had been an earthquake, or it had been razed in the wars. Or perhaps we completely missed an old part, which would have been in the true centre.
WE MISS THE ‘CITTA STORICA’
We walked round a few short streets behind the modern church, but could see no sign of a ‘Citta ‘Storica’. Knowing Basilicata, we feel we may well have been quite mistaken. Unfortunately, we met nobody with any knowledge of English sufficient to understand our enquiries.
But it was a pretty town for all that. We were immediately given a welcome upon getting out of our car, and presented with a sheaf of booklets on the area (sadly, all in Italian.) We guessed that Salandra was not on the main ‘tourist route’, but we found it charming. There was an attractive, modern looking church overlooking a large, paved piazza (Chiesa di San Rocco 2 pictures below). A stall set up in the square was selling nuts.
The Nut Seller
RAINY DAY SURPRISE –
SALANDRA’S SPECIALITY – WE BUY NUTS
Nuts of every kind and quality and all picked in this region. So – we bought Christmas walnuts for many of our relatives. They were fresh off the tree. The vendor broke one open for us to taste the crisp, creamy flesh.
We also bought pistachios (we decided to eat those before they ‘went off’). Also three kinds of almonds, and a great bag of uncooked peanuts. Graham loves them. I imagined the dog, Nero, might like to help him out. The chickens could tackle the shells.
There was general hearty laughter when a cheeky local resident disappeared and came back with a tiny bag of nuts for which he wanted 6 euros. Even the stallholder joined in, as he tipped generous amounts of his beautiful shelled almonds into our bags. Everybody was very friendly, as you find in the South. Especially so in the sparkling little bar, where we had Kaffé Machiata and some delicious pastries.
Chiesa di San Rocco
Main Piazza with the Medieval Town Hall
STIGLIANO
RAINY DAY – WE FIND A REFUGE
Then, despite spits of rain, it was off to Stigliano. We drove through the Little Dolomites, as this range of relatively small mountains is called. The lower slopes and valleys are bright green with grass and trees; unusual for Basilicata as a whole.
In a lull in the rain we spotted this once grand, deserted Masseria. Graham grabbed his camera and hopped out of the car. The road was empty, so I followed him up the track. A screech made me look up. Circling high above were two graceful predators – red kites. Graham was lucky to capture one in his shot.
Abandoned Masseria
Up and up we went after returning to the car. We negotiated hairpin bends and chestnut forests, to tiny Garaguso. Then close by we found SanMauro Forte. Graham ignored my pleas to explore this small citadel. (“We’ll never get anything to eat here, and it’s almost two o’clock”).
As rain started to fall heavily, we at last swept down and entered Stigliano.
Stigliano
STIGLIANO: A HOTEL AT THE BOTTOM OF THE HILL
We passed a hotel at the bottom of the hill. It appeared to be closed (and in any case might be too expensive). So we toured the streets a little, looking for an alternative place for lunch. The rain increased, and this did nothing for Stigliano. The grey stone buildings were all shuttered and bare. To us, with our growling bellies, the town looked dismal indeed.
STIGLIANO SEEMS A DESERTED TOWN – ON SUNDAYS
We were wondering at the ‘deserted’ look of Stigliano until we remembered it must be Sunday. (You lose track of days on a long holiday). At last we saw a van coming down a side road. Graham deliberately blocked it, to ask the driver where we could get something to eat. He said the only place where we ‘might be lucky at this hour’ was in the hotel we had passed. He assured us it was open even though by now it was nearly 3pm.
RAINY DAY RACING – BACK TO THE HOTEL
This time we approached it from a different angle; from the back. We saw a waiter fetching chairs in from the covered terrace. Graham stopped the car and I raced through heavy rain, crossing the road to intercept him. Yes, certainly they were open; we could still have lunch.
Gratefully, we followed him in the back way, past the ‘facilities’.
RAINY DAY SURPRISE
We trooped, mud on our trainers, into a beautiful light and airy room done out in cream. It had many elegantly laid tables. About four were occupied. A very long one took up one whole wall, to accommodate a happy, chattering family party. You see this everywhere in Italy. Italians love to meet up with their extended families – and eat together.
WE GATECRASH A BIRTHDAY PARTY.
THAT ONE WAITER was kept very busy indeed serving about thirty people in all. There was a young lady at one end of the long, cheerful table. She lifted her short cape and started discreetly breastfeeding an extremely young baby. Of course, that was when the waiter came in with a stack of plates to put before each person in that party. Then he and the owner/manager came through with platter after platter of gorgeously arranged seafood, salad, and the selection of cured meats called ‘Antipasti Misti’.
RAINY DAY FEAST FOR TWO:
GRAHAM’S ‘BEST BRAESOLA’ – MY SHRIMP AND ORANGE SALAD
He ran back and returned with our Antipasti. Graham enjoyed some of the best braesola he’s had in Italy (air-dried beef cut very thin). It came on a bed of rocket, and was sprinkled with thin shavings of parmisana. I had a salad with shrimp (prawns) AND would you believe, thin slices of peeled orange, served on a bed of rocket and tiny lambs’ ears. It was sprinkled with corn kernels, and drizzled artistically with balsamic vinegar. Delicioso! Good Matera bread and Vino Rossa la di Casa (house red – just a small half-carafe).
TAJARIN ALL’UOVO – VERY SPECIAL PASTA
Graham then was served with very thin, spaghetti-type pasta, made rich with many eggs (Tajarin All’Uovo’). It was smothered with porcini – the most prized mushrooms, and by far the most ‘mushroomy’. I had Agni something – I knew that was lamb. It proved to be four thin but tender lamb cutlets accompanied by a large plate of cooked spinach, (bright green and delicious). Also potatoes boiled, cut into wedges, and then fried in olive oil. Not quite chips, but both tender and crisp.
I AM CORRECTED
Meanwhile, the jollity level at the big table was rising. When glasses were raised in a toast we held up ours and said ‘To il Bambino!’ (Though when the mother passed, on her way to change the baby she gently explained that it was un Bambin-a; a girl.
WE ARE INVITED TO JOIN IN THE ‘BUBBLY’ BIRTHDAY TOAST
Nevertheless, our toast was well received. We were slightly embarrassed, though, when one of the gents came over and said in good English ‘Actually it’s my 50th birthday.’ So we congratulated him and offered a glass of our wine, but he was obviously drinking much better stuff.
We had not yet ordered dessert. Indeed, were discussing whether we really had room for it, when the owner/manager came bustling in bearing a very large box. This could only contain a birthday cake. He set it down on a small extension-table, took out the cake and lit candles.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY IN TWO LANGUAGES
The guests then all clustered around the host, who was holding aloft a large silver cake-knife. We looked on and just as they were about to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ in Italian, Mr 50th Birthday beckoned the waiter. He asked him to place two champagne flutes by us. He himself came over and filled them with bubbly. Then we were brought generous slices of the cake, in time to join in (in English) the singing of ‘Happy Birthday’. (The rest sang it in Italian). They followed this with a much jollier Italian birthday song.
We will never forget that lunch, made special by being included in that family’s private celebrations. Perhaps it does happen in Britain, but I feel it would be much more remarkable than amongst warm-hearted Italians.
Indeed, during the next weekend we would twice be celebrating with Italian families our own 40th Wedding Anniversary. Watch this space!
“Let’s have a look at this place called Irsina,” I suggested, pointing to an illustration in a booklet we’d been given. So we got ourselves together and set the SatNav, only to discover that the turning to Irsina was literally just up the road. We had not often gone along it in the Grassano direction, and had certainly not noticed the signpost to Irsina. What a discovery!
Green, flattish fields, and then suddenly an enormous, high ‘wall’ that dived down below the earth’s surface. Clearly an old quarry to build the ‘new town’ which sloped quite steeply upwards above it.
Irsina by the glow of the setting sun
One of the two archways into the Cittia Storica
IRSINA – MORE RAUCOUS STARLINGS IN A QUIET PIAZZA
We found ourselves in a very long, steep High Road full of shops. The road was suddenly faced with what was clearly a very old arch (the Porta Maggiore – Main Gate). We passed through into the Citta Storica. We found ourselves in a piazza that had a grand building (for a modest country town) all along one side. There was another at the back.
The centre of the Piazza Garibaldi was taken up with thick, square clipped trees that formed a block. They were faced at intervals by park benches. As we walked in deep shade beneath these trees they suddenly came alive with loud rustlings and birdsong. They were obviously chock-full of Starlings.
IRSINA – YOU CAN SEE FOR MILES AND MILES AND –
We emerged to find ourselves looking at one of the most impressive war memorials we had ever seen. Not that it was large or elaborate; it was the vitality of the charging soldier atop his high white plinth.
War Monument
Beyond, a low wall overlooked the panoramic, colourful landscape of the feature photo at the top of this page.
We looked out over miles of typical Basilicatan plain and low, swelling hillocks dominated by a flat-topped mini-mountain in the near-distance.
A diminutive gentleman of impressive age sat on the seat facing it. Suddenly he spoke to us in very good English.
“I look at this view every day, and I never tire of it.”
“We understand. We have noticed that in Basilicata particularly, as the sunlight moves around it constantly changes the view. It’s wonderful. What a beautiful town to live in.”
And it was – very special, although in some back streets we noticed that a few of the pretty old houses had been ‘gentrified. Many were now painted in pastel colours.
(We do have a photo of that friendly, courteous citizen, but we decided not to show it, out of respect to him.)
View from Irsina
(The illustration just above was taken looking along to the left of the main photograph at the top.)
IRSINA – MORE EVIDENCE OF GREEDY BRITS – HANDS OFF!
PLEASE GREEDY DEVELOPERS – RESIST THE URGE TO ‘SNAP-UP’ PROPERTY HERE
On the Internet I discovered that this might well have been under the aegis of, I regret tosay, some Englishwoman who is advertising property in ‘Basilicatashire’.Graham and I fervently hope this person stops this cultural plundering. We have seen too many historic towns and villages in many countries ‘Disneyfied’ at worst, and ‘prettified’ at best.
In Cornwall, most of the Tourist Trap villages are now lucky to have even one single Cornish person living in them. Their pretty cottages were snapped up when cheap to buy, and ‘developed’ for incomers who now live in them for short periods. They then let them out as short holiday lets. Some villages are almost empty in the winter months because the locals cannot afford to live in the place where they were born. The inflated prices outrun the local wages.
Heaven forefend that this will be the fate of unspoiled, authentic Basilicata! We would hate this magic land to go the way of ‘Dordogneshire’. The generous – handed people who live here might become resentful, as in Cornwall and some of the scenic areas of France.
We are not saying that people should not emigrate and settle in other countries; but the incomer should always be mindful of the sensiblities of those they are joining.
Irsina’s Duomo
IRSINA- MORE INFORMATION FROM A FREE GUIDE
Irsina Citta Storica is an exquisite old hilltop town, which never ceased to fascinate us. Staying so close, we visited it at least three times. It has a small but very old (11c) Duomo. The inside is beautiful in a pleasingly unfussy way. We were privileged to hear a full account about its treasures. This was given to us by our free guide; a senior schoolboy with excellent English.
A GREAT SCHEME
In Italy there is a very good scheme whereby children learn all about the history of their town (and probably other facts.) On certain days (this was a Friday afternoon, after school) they set up a stall in the town square. They offer themselves as free guides to visitors. This also helps them to practice their foreign language skills on foreign tourists.
Giuliano, our guide, was as full of pride in his town as in his knowledge. We could be sure there would be no vandalism from him or his mates. Indeed, in all our many trips to Italy (and France) we’ve seen virtually no evidence of the vandalism that mars so many of our British towns and villages.
IRSINA – A PRETTY FEISTY SAINT
St Euphemia
The great treasure of Irsina is the delicately painted and gilded stone statue of S Eufemia (Euphemia) that stands to one side of the altar. It had stayed hidden for centuries behind dusty glass on a high shelf in a storeroom of the Cathedral – and was only discovered in 2004!
From a newspaper report at that time –
Masterpiece unnoticed for 500 years: John Hooper in Rome:
Saturday 23 October 2004 00.35 BST
‘Almost two decades of detective work, triggered by a Latin poem found in the Vatican archives, has led experts to conclude that a statue that had stood unnoticed for five centuries in a small southern Italian town is the work of a Renaissance master.’
It is attributed to the great painter Andrea Mantegna – claimed locally to be a native of Irsina, though other records show him born in Padua. All agree that he was son-in-law of Jacopo Bellini, and an influence on Giovanni Bellini. Mantegna was born in 1431, and executed (sic) in Mantua in 1506. He created his exquisite statue of St Eufemia when he was only 23 – she is the patron saint of Irsina (– and quite a gal.)
St Euphemia
(Vivien, who loves cats, would have liked Eufemia as the saint had a pet lion. We had an embarrassing time confessing to Giuseppe (after she had left) how we could not stop Vivien taking all the kittens into her bedroom at night and feeding them all with meat from our fridge as well as their kitten food. (He wanted them feral and a bit hungry, so as to catch mice. )
IRSINA – MORE THREATENING WITH HAND IN LION’S MOUTH
Eufemia’s statue is uncannily lifelike, and most remarkable in that it depicts a clearly strong woman. Here, for once, is a lady (although a saint she lacks any sort of halo) who looks extremely stern. She sends off the Saracens by putting her hand into her tame lion’s mouth.
The Saracens captured the town around 320AD. When young aristocrat Eufemia refused to meet their demands to make a pagan sacrifice (one wonders what that entailed, as she looks very pretty) they threw her into their lions’ den. She tamed and befriended the beasts. That was the story we were told, but there are some other, somewhat confusing versions.
Her expression said to Graham and me ‘Don’t f…. with me, fellars.’ (With apologies to J. Crawford).
It’s an exquisite piece. She is on a rotating plinth and at certain times they will work it for you…
IRSINA – MORE INTRIGUING SYMBOLS – IN A TEMPLAR-TEMPLE
Steps leading down to the Templar Crypt
The priest approached Graham.
I was surprised to see them in animated conversation. After the slow rotating of this remarkably beautiful statue to gasps of wonderment from all of us visitors, the caretaker took the two of us down to the 11thc cross-form crypt. It is massive, and amazingly intact. It is attributed to the Knights Templar. As well as a fading fresco where God the Creator looks down benignly from the centre of the ceiling, there is a well-preserved escutcheon with an elderly pilgrim as centrepiece.
Pilgrim and Face
Above this is a carved and painted, fat and very large heavily-moustachioed face with no apparent chin. We saw this face carved into walls (and also on stables) all over Basilicata. It is very primitive, and we wondered if it is the Italian equivalent of our ‘Green Man’.
In the centre of the floor is a roundel with classic geometric ‘flower’ or ‘daisy wheel’ pattern. (Looking it up, I think it means ‘The Seed of Life’). As at Stonehenge, the very centre of this symbol is caught by a beam of light at sunrise at both Summer and Winter Solstices. Three round windows set into the ceiling of the half-dome enable this.
Crypt – Solstice Point
St Francis
We went back several times to see more of Irsina. We walked round the ancient streets and alleys, and the small squares with fountains. In one we found a most lively statue of St Francis of Assisi holding aloft the Dove of Peace. He is standing in front of the Church of the Purgatoria.
IRSINA – MORE SURPRISES – WHIZZING PIZZAS & FINE DINING
Near the main piazza there is the pleasant Caffe Ducala Ristorante & Pizzeria serving ice creams as well as food and drink. The proprietor, who spoke perfect English, delighted in amazing us with a performance of flipping pizza bases up and around himself.
We also had a lunch and at least two evening dinners at the excellent trattoria in the main square; Trattoria Nugent da Mario e Gigia, where we met a friendly Belgian party of four. One gentleman made films in time spared from his business. Graham, with similar aspirations, was delighted. The rest of us made polite conversation while those two got ever deeper into their subject. Email addresses were exchanged, but so far no further connections have been made.
MORE GOOD FOOD – WHERE IS THIS WONDERFUL DELI-CAFÉ?
The Duomo – Martina Franca
Graham and I went back to Martina Franca to explore it further. There is much to enjoy there if you love history and quaint old buildings. We found a great little place with more good food for our lunch. I wish I could find it on the Internet, to give it a good review. It is a tiny WIFI café on one of the main streets. I can see it in my mind’s eye, but unfortunately, we have no photos.
Inside the entrance is a glassed-in counter displaying excellent hams, sausages and cheeses. Further into the dark, beamed interior another room has been opened up. It is large enough to hold just four small tables, covered in red checked cloths. Everything is of great age except the food – and that was simple but superb. The salad was crisp and tasty, and the steaks cooked just as we like them.
MORE GOOD FOOD IN SMALL FAMILY RESTAURANTS
After years of experimenting, we have found more good food, reasonably priced, in these small family restaurants than anywhere else. This one was a proud little family business. Father took our orders, and I believe, did all the cooking (unless Mother was also in the kitchen). One son waited on the tables filled with Italian families, while the other ran the shop. When we were paying our bill a young and pretty woman entered and hung up her jacket.
“My daughter,” explained the proprietor, and names were exchanged all round, our hands shaken and calls of ‘Arrividerci’ followed us down the street. How I wish it were possible to go back to all these places that bring warmth in remembering them.
15th October
Grottole
MORE BASILICATA – WE EXPLORE IN DEPTH.
We were left with three weeks to further explore Basilicata for ourselves. The temperature had gradually dropped from 36C (96.8 Faranheit) to about 21C (69.8F), though we would soon have a few days as low as 15C. (59F). Graham had entirely lost his paunch, due to heat, the Italian diet and more walking than we generally do. I lost quite a bit too – but we stumpy types seem to hang onto our tummies longer!
We did a lot of exploring in the area around Grottole.
MORE BASILICATA HOME COOKING – BELLISSIMO!
We found a little family-run trattoria in Miglionico that Lolly would have loved. The family did not speak one word of English, but somehow they understood us and produced a feast. We enjoyed the special homemade ‘Little Ears’ pasta with mushrooms, meat and tomatoes; then a nice fresh salad and 3 kinds of grilled meat.
MORE FUN teasing GRAHAM
It gave me great pleasure to tell Graham that the particular item he was cooing over was a sweetbread – something he wouldn’t touch in England. Maybe that will change now and I won’t be deprived any longer… Suggest that if you don’t know of them you Google ‘Sweetbread’ meat! We also had fabulously good French fries. It was not expensive. I sent an account of this to Lolly, back in America. I stated how I had a bit of fun with Graham, letting him wolf his sweetbreads down before enlightening him with what he’d just eaten (according to a popular but erroneous idea that they are sheeps testicles, that I had been given way back by giggling girlfriends.) This is quite wrong – they are really the Thymus or Pancreas glands of veal or lamb, though other meats like beef or pork can be offered if you are lucky enough to find a butcher selling these delicious morsels. Lolly says that in New Orleans they also call them sweetbreads.
MORE FOOD FOR YOUR MONEY AT THIS ‘TRAT’
If you visit Miglionico, do eat at the humble L’Incontro “A true family trattoria…” We had two or three very tasty meals there during our stay. The décor is unremarkable, but a window table had us looking out over the town walls to the plains and olive groves below.
The menu is small, the price very reasonable, and wine and water was on the table. Superb, honest country food cooked with love. It can be found on the Via Roma, 38, 75010 Miglionico, tucked away in the back streets.
View from Miglionico
MORE BASILICATA – ITS LIT-UP LANDSCAPE IS UNIQUE
Everything IS special in BASILICATA – and really different from the rest of Italy; and certainly from Britain: Landscape like nothing we’d ever seen. Not smart compared to Tuscany and Umbria, but of a unique beauty. The endless swells and hills change with every light. Ranges of mountains in the distance appear in every shade of grey, lavender and blue.
It is all very subtle, and deceptively gentle looking, considering the number of destructive landslides that have happened – because everything is built and grown on clay. Mind you, there are many impressive ruined farmhouses around; most caused by landslip, but others from the sheer impossibility of making a good enough living from the land.
A lot of poverty, but as in Ireland and other places that have known bad times, the food is good because all organic, and the people are wonderful: funny, kind and generous.
Vivien’s stay with us was drawing to a close. We wanted her to see historic Martina Franca. Also the very high Roman sea wall still in its entirety at Monopoli, which we had discovered in 2011. It has a most attractive harbour front.
We decided that if we left in the morning there would be time to visit both towns before we drove to Brindisi to see her off on her mid-evening ‘plane home.
VIVIEN SAYS GOODBYE TO GIUSEPPE AND MASSERIA MAZZAPEDE
By the time we had waited for Giuseppe to arrive at the villa so that Vivien could say her goodbyes and thanks, the morning was well advanced. Giuseppe was typically charming to Vivien. He told her she would be very welcome if she chose to return. Graham and I were trying not to look at our watches, as we wished to reach Monopoli in time for lunch.
A RELUCTANT RISTORANTE
We followed the coast road to Capitolo, then turned off for L’Assunta, to take us into Monopoli. We stopped right there in L’Assunta when we saw a nice-looking fish restaurant still open. We checked the menu outside to make sure that Graham could get an alternative option.
The inlet we overlooked
There was a pleasant, shaded table overlooking an inlet where surf dashed against the rocks. We had passed their impressive display of fresh fish and seafood, but it was evident that the waiter was not willing to serve us anything but pasta or salad.
SERVICE IN RESORTS OFTEN DIFFERENT
(A resort, again – you can find this attitude in resorts the world over.) They assess you by their past experience of your countrymen en masse, who might not have displayed their best manners. We have often felt ashamed witnessing the behaviour of many Brits abroad.
After a time they brought the drinks we had ordered, contenting ourselves with sitting at the empty table and staring at the surf dashing against the rocks just below us.
Jackie & Vivien waiting for lunch
Eventually we discussed going elsewhere, but because of our time limit we decided to stay put. When our meals were plonked down before us they looked less than tempting. We put all this down to being end-of-season fatigue, although the place was almost empty.
A LETDOWN – VIVIEN’S LAST MEAL IN ITALY
A pity; their fish display near the entrance was ‘awesome’, as our American friends are so fond of saying. But in any case we had to press on to see the sights of Monopoli and Martina Franca. Most Trip Advisor revues of this restaurant are very good. La Gran Pavese Ristorante, 15 Contrada Capitolo, L’Assunta.
MONOPOLI
MONOPOLI’S ROMAN SEA WALL – STILL INTACT
Part of the sea wall at Monopoli
Monopoli Harbour
We made for the harbour when we reached Monopoli. At first glance you find yourself in an ultra-modern resort. We walked along a broad avenue of gleaming cream stone. It was squeaky clean and new looking. Cream marble benches were placed at intervals. They matched the wide pavement stretching along by the sea.
DIVERS & SWIMMERS
We passed diving rocks close by in the sea. There seems always at least one cluster of happy young people pushing each other off. Their laughter carries across the water. We also admired a gaggle of brightly painted little boats.
STILL INTACT – ROMAN SEA WALL
Other holiday makers were enjoying the powdery, almost white sands of the beach. It led your eye to the other side of the harbour and that amazingly intact, very high Roman sea wall – still doing its job after two thousand years!
MONOPOLI’S CITTA ANTICA – GLORIOUS DUOMO
A tight squeezeA Narrow street
We had been very smitten with the small city on that previous visit. This time we ventured further. The Citta Antica still has signs of Arab occupation. We found it both beautiful and very interesting. At intervals, arches in the sea wall offered nice views of the very blue sea and the nautical traffic upon it.
STREETS GLEAM CREAM AND WHITE – DESPITE MOTORBIKES
The graceful buildings were all in the main of that cream stone, although we found whole little streets where the houses were white. There were few pavements (sidewalks), but the streets were paved in the same diamond-shaped marble tiles we had seen in Bari. It was a wonder how they stood up to the constant traffic of motorcycles that whizzed past us as we walked. (Ever since the Vespa craze of “La Dolce Vita” it seems Italians are in love with their motorbikes, especially the young. They see no need to slow down, even when passing ‘il touristi’ under the narrow arches, which lead to so many streets in their cities.)
The windowed dome of the Duomo Madonna della Madia
BEAUTIFUL CATHEDRAL
When we went into the Duomo of Santa Maria della Madia we were stopped in our tracks. Who would not be impressed that every pillar and high arch – every surface, it seemed, was covered in intricate designs of inlaid marble of many colours? One prettily windowed dome was a poem of blue and white and gold – with real gilding enhancing the religious paintings that edged it. The church had been built in the 12thc, but had been ‘upgraded’ in the eighteenth. This accounted for the baroque exterior, and the intricate decoration inside.
The Duomo Madonna della Madia
Dazzled, we tore ourselves away. We turned into a narrow little street that had one of those wide windows in the city wall that gave onto yet another view of the harbour. Time was passing; we located our car park close nearby.
WE JUST ESCAPE THE STORM
We piled in just in time to escape the approaching storm that looked to engulf Monopoli, and joined the direct, fast road to Martina Franca.
Gathering storm over Monopoli
MARTINA FRANCA
Martina Franca
For some reason Graham and I had not on our previous stay in the area bothered to visit this much – admired town so close to Cisternino. Now we were to be grateful for our second chance.
We were well rewarded. We drove first as high as we could, to the Citta Antica. After parking, we found a vantage point with great views of the surrounding countryside. It was generously dotted with those unique trulli.
INTRIGUING STREETS AND ALLEYS
Streets of arches and flowers
It was a pity; the sky was heavy with threatening cloud, which cast rather a veil over the scene. Through elegant, carved arches we walked past substantial, well-designed Italian versions of Georgian-type buildings and shops. Then we found narrow, winding streets of little white houses. Many had steps up the side bearing pots of geraniums. Nearly all had arches from which hung swathes of greenery; sometimes gaudy bougainvillaea.
Disturbed from a snoozePassages & Alleys
Clearly, the residents of the old town missed having gardens. They made up for this lack with pots and window boxes filled with brilliant colour wherever they could be placed.
Eventually we found ourselves faced by an extra high, classically carved arch. It led into a most impressive, architecturally grand central piazza. The Piazza Maria Immacolata held statues. A curved colonnade of magnificent arches stretched all around. It supported grand stone buildings.
MARTINA FRANCA – CLASSICAL GRANDEUR
Piazzza Maria Immacolata
There were parterres of greenery at regular intervals. They gave a cool relief from the sun now glaring on the white paving beneath our feet. Squashed in, behind the identical arch on the other side, was a tall, fairly simple Duomo – almost white, with some baroque ornament.
Basilic San Martino
It was approached by steps. It was, indeed, the major cathedral, dedicated to San Martino.
NO ENTRY TO THIS CATHEDRAL
When Vivien climbed up and tried the door she found it closed. We had to content ourselves with ‘looking inside’ using Google images when we returned home.
Graham and I decided that we must go back to Martina Franca (hopefully in the not-too-distant future) to explore more of this beautiful, fascinating town.
Detail – Basilica San Martino
TRAVELLER IN A HURRY
We could have seen more, but Vivien was anxious to get to the airport in Brindisi. She’d have a wait of around three hours if the journey was uneventful, and we were not held up by a crash further on, or accosted by bandits, or kidnapped! Graham and I had to accept that the world is divided on this one. There are some people who just like to guard against every eventuality that chance might throw at them to make them miss their bus, train or ‘plane home. Our friend urged us not to wait with her at the airport. She said she’d be quite happy reading her book until called for her flight.
We rather guiltily said goodbye and slunk off to enjoy the rest of the afternoon and our return to fondly remembered Casalini.
CASALINI.
Driveway into Riposo del Vento
HELLO AGAIN FRANCESCA
We drove back to take advantage of Francesca’s very kind invitation. After all our constant sightseeing we felt ready to draw breath for a day or two.
We stayed in the same little trullo as in 2012. Next day we re-explored the area we had loved so much five years before. Sadly, Jean-Vito was still not back in his smart little mini-mart, so we had to forgo the pleasure of renewing our friendship.
TO OUR SHAME WE FALL FOR A TOURIST-TRAP
Then we drove the few miles to Cisternino. We two remembered it well as an honest, working country town. Now we found it much smarter and more ‘touristy’ than when it was our base for a week in 2012. We tried a new Macelleria Restaurant. These are where you choose the meat from the butcher’s array, and they cook it for you in a full meal. We should have gone back to the old-established one Francesca had recommended before. Now we felt ripped off.
WE FIND AN EXCEPTION
However, there was one new tourist place we really enjoyed, as much for the friendly chat in English as for the excellent coffee and little cakes. It is a tiny café in the corner of the miniscule ‘park’ which contains the war memorial, and overlooks miles and miles of land, right to the sea…
Cisternino, relaxing after sunset
LOCOROTONDO
Bronze alter piece
After two nights Graham and I said our fond farewells. At Francesca’s urging we took a country route back through Locorotondo. When we had visited in 2012, it had a great street market stretching all the way down the considerable main thoroughfare. I had bought a heavy, silver-set white stone drop from an African stallholder.
ANOTHER GREAT CHANGE – BUT ANCIENT CHURCH INTACT
Today that street was empty, but we noticed many smart new shops.
We went up to the top and found a pretty church with a baroque façade. A board outside gave details in English. This was the Chiesa Madre San Giorgio. When we went inside we discovered that the building was actually very, very much older. It was simpler than the Duomo in Monopoli – but still extremely beautiful. It held some wonderful art treasures. A striking bas-relief in a pale wood depicted the disciples falling asleep in the Garden of Gethsemane. Then Graham spotted some wonderful, very old – looking woodcarvings incorporated into the base of the simple modern altar table. In a side chapel he found a very striking modern sculpture in bronze. He guessed it depicts the raising of Lazarus . There were quite a few visitors like us in that church. So we had to conclude:
From Masseria Mazzapede near Matera we drove to many hilltop towns and villages all around – each one picturesque and full of history. One of the best trips was when we travelled into the mountain range we’d passed on the way to Pompeii, in search of ‘the village behind the fan-shaped ridge’. From my previous notes from Google Images we guessed it to be Castelmezzano in the Lucanian Dolomites.
FORCED TO DETOUR
We turned off the highway to travel narrow roads that took us under a railway bridge built into the mountain. Up and around, zigzagging. Up and up we went, until eventually we met a road barrier. It announced in English ‘Access to Castelmezzano denied to all but local inhabitants.’ Why they could not have put this notice at the bottom of that hairy mountain road passed our understanding. As we reached the railway tunnel again two bikers informed us that we could at least go to a village the other side of the ridge.
LUNCH AMONGST THE CLOUDS – IN PIETRAPERTOSA
Jackie at the Resturant
We had never noticed this one on ‘Google Images’, or even when looking up from the main road, but we retraced our tracks. Then we drove on past the turning to Castelmezzano. In due course we found ourselves right at the top of the mountain, in the only parking place, opposite a small bar/café. To our relief it was open, and I made an unseemly beeline for the Ladies’, following the pointing hand of the barman. After that we joined other holidaymakers and had a very pleasant late lunch. We were seated in a sort of loggia, peering over the boxes of flowers that surrounded it to the impressive view beyond. (That is, after a coach finally moved from the main parking bay). We think the restaurant/bar, which served excellent, reasonably priced food, was called Orsa Minore (or something similar). On the Via Umberto, but we could not find it in Google.
ZIPWIRE – WHAT, ME?
As I moved from the cafe to the balustrade fronting the turning/coachstop place, a sporty-looking gal pointed out to me the almost invisible zip wire that stretched to the next mountaintop.
“You really ought to try it,” she said. “You get the most tremendous views – just like you’re a bird.”
“Surely not, if you’re sitting in a chair, or clinging on to a chain,” I said, trying to recall what I’d seen on TV.
“Oh no,” she replied. “On this one you’re suspended upside down from a harness on your back.” It was all I could do not to throw up then and there, as a visualisation of such an experience swam around my inner vision. I quickly shoved all such thoughts back into the well of forgetfulness.
“Er – I don’t think it’s for me,” I faltered. “I suffer from vertigo – but I’m sure my husband would love it. Graham – this lady says…”
ANCIENT PAINTINGS ON SLAB ROOF
It was as I turned around that I noticed two extremely old cartouches embedded in the natural rock ‘roof’ of the café. Small painted frescoes of biblical subjects. Despite being out in the open on a mountaintop, the colours were remarkably strong and fresh. Below them was etched ‘1339’, so I guessed that there had once been a troglodyte dwelling there – or even a small church?
View from the Cafe Restaurant
ZIPWIRE MOUNTAIN VILLAGE
We discovered we were in Pietrapertosa, and that the main village was tucked around the corner. We went up a short, steep track amongst high boulders. At the top we found a charming little house. There was a thoughtful seat of stone right opposite, under the rock ridge. We were ‘the other side of the fan’.
The village in the rocks
A NEW FRIEND FINDS ME OUTSIDE HER DOOR
Jackie & Vivien with two Ladies of the Village
Graham and Vivien made for the village, reached by a rocky ledge, which led downwards, showing why this village had not been visible from the road. With my head for heights, and bearing in mind that what leads down eventually leads back up, I settled for the convenient stone slab seat. It was comfortable, leaning my chin on my hands that were resting on my trusty stick. Presently a lady of mature age came out of the house and offered me water. I gratefully accepted, as the sun was beating down. She stayed with me, and we enjoyed one of those ‘heavy on gesture’ conversations.
GAGGLE OF GIRLS SNAPPED
The others returned, enthusing about the unique view they had enjoyed from the old and pretty village. The lady’s daughter came out of their house. They requested that we join them to be photographed. They soon pointed out the ‘B&B’ sign on the wall. I wonder if Vivien will book there at a later date. She is sure-footed as a mountain goat, unlike moi. It is undoubtedly a very special place, with stupendous views and walks all around. I repeat the information I was given at lunch. For the best all-round panorama “You can also travel across from that mountaintop to the next, lying tummy-down on a zip-wire thing”.
I wish I were young and fit enough to contemplate staying there, but the wire contraption would give me a heart attack at any age.
DETOUR – A SECRET WOOD.
We took another route to return, seeking the by-lanes in some deep green country viewed from that high perch. We found ourselves in an enchanting (and probably enchanted) oak wood; a natural film set for ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ or ‘Lord of the Rings’. Absolutely beautiful and very green, with interesting outcrops of stone covered in dark green moss and silver lichen.
The Oak wood
Vivien hunting for mushrooms
SECRETS IN A SECRET WOOD – HAD VIVIEN FOUND PORCINI?
We rooted around, hoping to find Porcini – and may have done so, but were not quite able to trust our judgment, as the fins were bright yellow. I have since discovered, looking at photos taken on another holiday, that Porcini with bright yellow fins are to be found in markets over much of the Continent.
DETOUR – TO VILLAGE WHERE WE DRAW STARES
Graham drove us on unknown country lanes on the way back to Grottole. The map showed that we were in the intriguingly named Parco Regionale di Gallipoli Cognato, and presently we found ourselves in the high hilltop town of Oliveto Lucano.
The few men strolling around the patch of grass between the loops of the road stared at our car with the right-hand drive, and then when we parked up near a tiny bar they stared at us again. It was clear that few foreign visitors came to this noticeably poor little town, where it must have been difficult to scrape a living. They all watched as we turned a tight corner to get out of the town. We were now driving down a steep ‘loop’ road.
MY HEART IS GLADDENED AND SADDENED
Accettura Sculpture
Accettura was the next village.
There was one magnificent tree where two side streets divided. Close by we were surprised to see a modern statue of most startling, poignant beauty. We got out for a closer look. To us, it was not so much a war memorial as depicting the tragedy of parting.
THE TRAGEDY OF PARTING
Basilicata, like the rest of Italy (perhaps even more so) had many times seen its men depart for other countries. In England and America they had more chance of establishing a decent living, promising to send for their families later. We learned that some did, and prospered in their new country; others disappeared and were never heard from again.
– AND THE TRAGEDY IN SOME RETURNS
Still others came back with pockets full of dough, but unable to buy land for one reason or another. They were soon reduced to the peasant status they had been before. This was aptly described in Carlo Levi’s book, ‘Christ Stopped at Eboli’. So sad that such a beautiful country has seen such hopeless defeat.
I remember that we toiled on foot in the heat, up the narrow streets leading to the Duomo right at the top. I, for one, was grateful when we descended to our car and were on our way again. We saw one or two more equally affecting statues in the area as we passed through villages; they were clearly by this same artist.
DETOUR THAT IS LONG AND TIRESOME
I seem to remember that it was on the return journey that evening that Graham decided to go back to the main road. He took a wrong turn, and had to drive back almost to where we had left it in the morning in order to regain ‘our’ highway. I know we were all quite tired by the time we climbed the stairs into our flat after our lovely day out. In the shady rooms I could see that Graham had acquired a deeper shade of tan – not quite bronze, but getting there.
We took friendly leave of our host (despite having paid more than in all the rest of our holiday because he treated Graham and I as ‘singles’. We think this is because he usually fills up with fellow hunters, who are probably single men from the big cities.)
ORNAMENTATION – LECCE IS FULL OF IT!
We turned north west for Lecce, which always enjoys top billing in all the travel brochures; mostly famous for its baroque churches, which are smothered in ornamentation.
It was raining hard when we reached the only likely parking place, which forced us to walk across a dripping park. LECCE was a great disappointment to all of us. (The continuing rainstorm did not help).
The Exuberance of RococoCentral Piazza
O.T.T. or WHAT?
Quite a large city, those most famous baroque churches were crowded in together, as were their bits and pieces of ornamentation, vying with each other for attention. We agreed that they cancelled each other out. Graham commented, ‘The sculptors must have been on acid to produce such a proliferation of ornamentation . The scaffolding for the restoration work doesn’t help.’
Afterwards, we had to walk quite a long way through boring streets to find the next attraction, like the very wide central piazza with two impressive statues at its entrance. (Think it housed the Episcopal Palace). Some of the ornamentation we found here really pleased us – animal heads with sometimes comical expressions held up along balcony; unusual caryatids.
Nearby was a café that sold ‘Real English Tea’. We ordered some, which came after a lengthy wait, and the bill had Graham reeling. (Be warned – they don’t know how to make English tea properly) Feeling foolish, and ripped off, we turned into a street of craftspeople – and I still wish I had bought some embroidered aprons to take back as gifts; the ornamentation was unusual.
Roman ruins below street level
A HOLE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CITY
Bishop Orontus
The best bit of Lecce for us was a great hole in the middle of a busy crossroads. Peering over the railings one looked down on very impressive Roman ruins. Quite unexpected and romantic, even though sans ornamentation, and to our minds far more interesting than sainted Bishop Orontus atop an immensely tall column nearby. Also, I was able to buy a good-sized tube of Arnica ointment in one of those smart, specialist shops called L’Erbolario. You’ll never find a larger selection of natural cosmetics and remedies.
METAPONTO
Greek temple at Metaponto
TARANTO
Posing for the record at Metaponto
We went on the country road to Taranto, passing through Manduria, a surprisingly large town, and then San Giorgio Iconico, clearly quite poor now; but some street urchins were very polite when we asked the way.
We reached Taranto but did not do more than show Vivien a cursory look at this major resort for the area, which is very like any English South Coast town, except for the palm trees lining the long, wide boulevard. We looked down from the car onto quite a large industrial port at one end.
It was on our way to Metaponto. We were anxious for Vivien to visit this very good Ancient Greek site, and particularly wanted to show her the beautiful new museum.
ANCIENT GREEKS AND MODERN MEN.
This time we were able to stay longer in the museum, devoted to the Classical Period, and Graham introduced Vivien to the lady at the desk and then the curator, who were both most interested to discuss with the English conservators the local methods of conservation of the interesting objects on show.
A WORLD-FAMOUS CLASSICAL COLLECTION
Of particular interest is the world-famous collection of Classical Greek pottery; in some examples here the ornamentation exceeded what one has become familiar with in other museums. Then there are the classical temple pillars and the foundations on still other other outside sites nearby, which are extensive and impressive.
National Museum at Metaponto – Photo from their site
TINY TEMPLES – MAKE-UP – JEWELLERY
Frieze from Temple to Athena Metaponto
While they were all deep in conversation I wandered around on my own and discovered lovely little sculptures of classical temples and goddesses, and numerous examples of classical ornamentation on brooches, hairpins, etc.; and one most delicate and elaborate hair ornament. This museum is clearly a recent build. It has been beautifully designed, with large, well-spaced glass cases in an open plan. Some of the rooms have little strips of fresh green plants to separate different types of object. http://www.aptbasilicata.it/The-National-Museum.553+M52087573ab0.0.html
Lions head water spout for a building
We then went outside and had fun in the largest site, picking our way over the foundation walls of numerous old Classical temples, and posing by more pillars. The restaurant near the museum had closed for the afternoon by the time we sought lunch, but we were able to buy citron pressè and sandwiches at a booth just inside the nearby public park.
NO WELCOME FOR ONCE
That was the evening we sought dinner in our friendly little town of Miglionico, which was on our way back to base. I remember that when we first took her there Vivien remarked on how I exchanged ‘Buongiorno’ and Buona Sera’ with practically every resident we passed (she thought it excessive, but everybody had greeted us when Graham and I had first entered the place. Manners are still very important in Italy and Italians are very polite)
We thought we’d take her to eat in the smart Hosteria del Malconsiglio, near the only car park we had so far found available to non-residents.
GOOD PIZZA – PRETTY RISTORANTE
Graham and I had eaten just pizza in there on our second evening in Basilicata, because we had had a very good lunch earlier that day. We were charmed by the decor and the friendly, helpful hostess, and determined to go back for dinner sometime, although the menu was not cheap.
We arrived with Vivien a quarter of an hour before opening time. We were in the middle of a rare thunderstorm. Rain was tipping down, and to Graham’s consternation there was no room in the small car park. He suggested that Vivien and I wait under the porch until the restaurant opened, as stated on the door, at seven o’clock.
However, when a van drew up and a man started bearing in a great box (looking like it contained a wedding cake) and other supplies, he was very annoyed when we asked if we could now go inside out of the rain.
He snapped, “Come back; open at 8 o’clock”.
“Can we shelter from this downpour?”
“We have nowhere to go in this rain. No car.”
After several minutes he reluctantly allowed us inside. We sat at a table, ignored by two young waiters polishing glasses. They did not even offer us water, and ignored us when we tried to ask for it.
The proprietress did not come in that night, but Graham came back at about 7.30, when he asked to order wine. This eventually appeared, and at eight o’clock what looked like a football team of young fellows and their friends trooped in and occupied a table along one wall.
WE ARE TOTALLY IGNORED
They ordered food not on the menu, but they were all served before we were grudgingly asked if we were ‘ready to order’. We did so, to be told that some dishes were unavailable, and the dishes we did have looked totally different to the attractive food served to another party of four (perhaps a local family?) who had entered well after us.
You hardly ever get this sort of treatment in Italy, but on this holiday there were three occurrences; the other two were in November and in hot tourist spots – and it was right at end-of-season, so no doubt they were tired and had had their share of arrogant tourists (which we are told we are not, by the way.) Miglionico gets coach parties and there are a few places to stay, I believe – but it is hardly a hot spot.
Showing the kind of wonderful selection this Pasticceria sold – Photo from their site.
SADLY – WE NEVER RETURNED
Much later we discovered that the restaurant was owned by the baker/confectioner who ran the smart Pasticceria mentioned above. (The elaborate ornamentation on some of the little cakes was something to behold and wonder at.) He, and the young woman who mainly served the coffee were both charming and attentive. We did not tell him about our bad treatment by his young waiters, and I deliberately did not put a review of the restaurant on Trip Advisor, because we had ample evidence that (to other people) it gave excellent service and food.
FEASTING WITH FALSTAFF
The next time we ate with Vivien in Miglionico it was at Peppino’s, (described at great length in a previous Post. If you have not read it ‘click here’) She is the sort of person who appreciates excellence in all its guises, and is content with ‘no-frills’, especially at a good price. She agreed that ‘Peppino’s is a FIND’. L’Evoluzione Della Brace
HOW I HATED THAT COOKER!
We were all having a fabulous holiday. We cooked a few meals on the strange little cooker in our kitchen. I never managed to light the gas rings unaided, as I had to hold down and twist the knobs whilst pressing and applying a tiny cigarette lighter, which hurt my fingers. It had to be held down until the gas popped, then I must quickly reverse the knob before the flame went out. My old fingers (or my old brain) were not strong enough.
Gas lit, albeit by one of the others, I would cook the produce we’d bought in Miglionico or Grottole that morning.
Thin slices of filet of veal with porcini was a favourite, but some ‘steak’ that proved tough when fried I later cooked with the lovely fresh organic local veg, and it made a welcome stew on a colder evening. Vivien also cooked once or twice, but on the whole we all loved to ‘eat out’.
Text by – Jackie Usher, SWWJ. (aka author Debbie Darkin, & ‘Graham Liverpool’ on Trip Advisor.)
Photographs by – Graham Usher. Except for the photos of the Pasticceria and the National Museum at Metaponto, which were taken from their own sites.
An expert in many craft fields, our holiday visitor Vivien likes to know how things work. To introduce her to some of the small towns in Apulia – instead of revisiting Alberobello, which we felt she would find ‘too commercial’, we took her instead to Casalini, just outside Cisternino, to see the actual restored trullo where we had stayed for a week in 2011.
We used the SS172 as it was more or less a direct route, curving through the countryside, where Vivien was tantalised by passing glimpses of restored 14th century trulli away off in the fields – and a few on the road. Just past the small town of Putignano we were delighted to come across brown signposts that pointed to ‘the Trullo Cave’.
One-of-the-many-rock-forms-in-the-cave
It involved only a tiny deviation from the road, and when we reached there, we found a triple-roofed trullo standing in a small garden.
The reception room was empty. We pushed the bell for attendance, and turned our attention to some specimen cases holding attractive minerals – quartzes, etc. I started reading the wall plaques. The guide appeared, and he pointed out to me a photograph showing a somewhat rickety-looking spiral staircase (the type with open treads, which I hate, suffering as I do from vertigo).
“I don’t think you could manage that with a walking stick,” he said. “In any case, the floor of the cave is very uneven in places.”
He said the tour should take no more than an hour, so I happily sat on a bench outside in the garden, reading what literature I could find about the place and its surrounding area. The others came out full of enthusiasm for this small and unusual museum.
Much more publicised are the famous Grotte di Castellana, which certainly sound marvellous.
THEY ARE NOT SUITABLE IF YOU ARE NOT CAPABLE OF DESCENDING AND ASCENDING MANY STEPS – AND CANNOT WALK TWO MILES AND BACK? (WE NEVER FOUND OUT.)
Graham and I went there, and queued for about twenty minutes to buy tickets, only to be told that we would have to wait two hours for an English guide. So we sat about the courtyard, then decided on buying a sandwich at one of the rather over-priced cafes in the outer entrance. We surveyed the tourist shops, but there was nothing to tempt us.
Returning, we found quite a long queue had already formed to buy tickets. Eventually we reached the window.
“My wife has difficulty walking too far,” Graham said, indicating my stick. “Will the caves be difficult for her?”
“No problem,” he was told, so Graham bought our tickets, which were very expensive for Italy. We were waved to the far corner of the large, bare square, and followed others to the entrance to the caves. When we got there I surveyed with horror the endless staircase leading down.
“I can’t manage that,” I said, “and what about climbing them back up?”; but we were pushed down for a way until we came to a landing with an attendant. She was most unhelpful; did not tell us that there was a lift (elevator) and grew annoyed when we fought our way back up to the open air.
Then we had to join the diminished queue to reach the ticket office where Graham, after a heated argument, got his money back.
Nevertheless, if you can manage them, they do look amazing on Google.
SMALL TOWN APPEAL INCLUDES HOSPITALITY – WE REVISIT A GREAT HOSTESS
Francesca’s-Trullo
We arrived in the small town of Casalini, and turned into the mini-supermarket run by Jean-Vito, so well-known when we stayed at Riposo del Vento in one of Francesca’s trulli for a week in 2011. We were disappointed that he was not there – instead, his rather severe mother served us. We bought some more of his own cold-pressed olive oil. This time it was in a can, and Mamma charged a high price for it.
Francesca-Jackie-Bea-in-2011
Now Graham and I took a little time to decide on the right lane up to Francesca’s complex of restored trulli. They are dotted in a beautiful exotic garden created by her father – a landscape architect.
As soon as we parked the car Francesca, our architect hostess, now a good friend, greeted us warmly and suggested we take coffee with her; but first, she took Vivien all around the site.
HOW APULIA TRULLI ARE CONSTRUCTED
Francesca explained to Vivien all the building techniques (and the reasons for them), of these medieval stone beehive houses. We all then enjoyed coffee and home-made cakes in Francesca’s newly-extended and now very elegant modern house. We greeted her husband, Juan, perched on a ladder doing something to a window. Then we hugged the stately Bea, Francesca’s housekeeper for the complex. Bea had especially cooked Polish bacon and eggs (very different from the full English) for Graham’s breakfast when we stayed there. After coffee – Vivien studied an unrestored trullo a few fields away from Francesca’s property.
I’ll start with CRACO because I cannot remember the exact order of the trips we made with Vivien; so here goes, with apologies to Vivien if the dates don’t fit. CRACO had grabbed her interest when I sent her a download about it before our holiday started. Vivien is one of those people who do not like surprises; if we suggest somewhere we like for a meal she must Google it for every detail and all menus before she will try it. It seems that this careful research is applied to any and everything she is contemplating.
RUINS – ANCIENT AND MODERN
She is a highly qualified craftswoman, who maintains that she is far more interested in the history of things than she is of people, and so we were not surprised that first on her Basilicata bucket-list came the buildings of CRACO; not yet a UNESCO World Heritage site. although I’m sure that will come. However, it is on the list of The World’s Monuments Fund as very important.
Many were medieval; (some even earlier in this hilltop town with traces of iron-age occupation.) These, and all later builds, have been left deserted ever since a landslip in the 1950’s started the evacuation of residents – the last stubborn soul left in 1980. This was due to Craco being situated at the edge of the ‘badlands’, where no imported topsoil had been laid over the bare white sea of clay hills and cliffs.
THE GHOSTLY CITADEL GUARDING THE BADLANDS
Craco from afar
Craco took a little finding, as it is now well off the beaten track, but as we turned a bend in the country road there it was – an arresting sight; a ghost town of gaping windows and doors, very much like the unrestored part of Matera; only from our aspect we saw a very small town sitting atop a hill that was almost a perfect cone.
I AM LEFT BEHIND
We had to drive around the base of Craco to gain access to the reception building, where I had to stop, because the very nice guide said that attempting the ruined streets and many steps with my stick would be dangerous for me. The others were given hard hats and went off, while I found a booklet in English and was directed to a small theatre where for half-an-hour I watched a video about the doomed town. Fortunately, there was a vending machine selling water and chocolate, and the place had ample facilities, as my party returned a good 1hr 45 minutes later, to the all too obvious annoyance of the other staff, all itching to close the place and go home. However, Graham and Vivien were effusive in their thanks to the young guide who had been caught up in their intense interest and enthusiasm. http://www.cracomuseum.eu.com
(Here I’ll hand over to Graham to describe their experiences that afternoon:)
WE MEET WILLIAM – OUR CRACO GUIDE
William our guide
I can’t remember our guide’s name; I should have noted it down. He was a guy in his twenties from, I believe, Nigeria – and he had married a local girl. I think we got him because he spoke excellent English, and although we arrived rather late in the afternoon he didn’t hurry us; in fact, his enthusiasm for the crumbling town was infectious. For the sake of this post I’m going to call our super knowledgeable guide William – and hope he forgives me for forgetting his name and possibly getting his country of birth wrong.
First of all, you need to know that no one is allowed onto the Craco site without these official guides, and it is best, especially in the peak season, to look them up on the internet and contact them, as they tend to take parties. We were incredibly lucky that William was willing to take just the two of us when we turned up unannounced.
We followed him back in my car to the entrance gate.
At the lower part of Craco
As we donned the hard hats and walked on marble setts along what was once the main thoroughfare into the town, William started to tell us about CRACO.
ANCIENT GREEKS AND ROMANS KNEW CRACO
The original settlement dated back to about the 8th cent BC, though the name Craco did not come into existence until 1260 AD.
Remains of a prosperous building
Right through it’s history it seems, Craco was a prosperous place, and at one time boasted an university. As we walked through the lower part of the town the signs of this prosperity still showed.
The downfall of the Medieval town actually didn’t start until the 20th century. William pointed up to the top of the site where most of the buildings were still intact. Two towers that looked to be in good condition dominated the buildings around them.
‘That is the oldest part of the town and in better repair and less vulnerable to landslides than the lower part, which we are walking through at the moment.’
He paused.
Like a good feed man I asked the question. ‘Why is that?’
WHEN CRACO SPREAD TO CLAY
‘The early part of the town was built on rock, but as Craco grew in the 17th, 18th, 19th and then 20th century, the only ground left was clay. This might have been okay, except that the town being one of the wealthiest around, the Council decided it needed to have a municipal drainage and sewerage works.
Sagging veranda and gaping cracks
‘Then they had this beautiful road built.’ He whacked one of the setts with his pointing stick. ‘I should say the first development is responsible for the landslips, as this is a later addition, with better engineering. No one thought then about what would happen to all the water. That was the real start of their troubles. By 1963 people were being evacuated from the town and resettled lower in the valley. Then the flood of ’72’ really made the situation worse. After the earthquake of 1980 the town was completely abandoned. These days one shepherd and his goats graze the lower slopes.’
SAD SIGNS OF CRACO’S DEMISE
By the time he had finished his spiel on Craco’s downfall we had passed the open doorways and blank windows of gutted buildings that lined the street. One had a baker’s oven behind what had once been a shop, and on the front wall above it, rusted ornamental railings sagged near to collapse guarding what had been the owners’ living quarters. William pointed out various things as we passed other buildings; possessions the old owners had left, that told stories of their lifestyles.
Goats graze on one of the landslips
CRACKS IN CLAY SHOW CRACO’S DEVASTATION
We finally came to the end of the paved road. Before and above us was a large swathe of broken ground that had obviously had buildings on at one time. Now it was strewn with rubble as though a giant hand had swept down the hillside. Beyond this torn area buildings stood in ragged defiance; rooms open to the weather. Their outer walls had been wrenched away, leaving the side walls sagging. Some buildings had large cracks that reached from foundation to roof. I wondered how they could stay standing.
Crumbling but still standing
CRACO STILL CRACKING
We stood gazing in awe at the destruction. William gave us a lopsided smile and said, ‘This is why people are not allowed in here on their own. Many of the houses are very unsafe. We are trying to save as much as we can, but the ground here is always on the move, so we work on those built on rock.’
‘Surely they’re the older ones?’ Vivien piped up.
‘On the whole, yes; but earthquakes have caused a lot of damage to those, too.’
Reaching the upper part of the town
MEDIEVAL CRACO MORE INTACT
A part of a plaza with a wonderful view
We skirted round the landslide to the track that would take us up into the higher town. In places it became steep and slippery with loose gravel, and I was glad Jackie had not come. I was quite breathless by the time I had scrabbled up the slope and William had let us through a corrugated fence that guarded the medieval part of the town.
Here the streets and houses of Craco took on a more recognizable style, with some of them in much better order, though we saw nothing I would call habitable.
Ornate Craco ceiling decoration in the 17c style
Even so, we found evidence of grand plazas with vistas out over the countryside, and ceiling decorations that no ordinary humble abode would have had.
As we went higher we would sometimes snatch a glimpse of the land spread out beyond, either through gaps between buildings, or sometimes, as we walked through interconnecting houses an empty framed window or doorway gave us a wondrous view onto the badlands beyond.
I wished we had arrived earlier, as I’m sure that William would have let us roam more. I can’t thank him enough for the experience. Do go and visit Craco and support the ongoing work in conservation that they are doing there. It is most impressive. They are stabilizing it more than trying to prettify, which I always think is for the best; leaving the thumbprint of the past to show through, and not clouding it with 21st Century sensibilities. I’ll finish this post with one more picture, to give you a better feel of the place. It is not an especially pretty view, more a majestic harshness taken from inside one of the buildings looking out into the badlands. (One of the feature pictures on our HOME page was taken of a domed roof looking out over the land.)
The Badlands
There are several so-called ‘Ghost towns’ (abandoned medieval villages) in Italy. You can Google the area you are planning to explore to see if there are any you can visit. There may be one or two that you can go around without a guide, so be aware that these places can be very unsafe. They were abandoned for a reason; mainly because of landslides or earthquakes, of which Italy has many. During the time we were travelling down through Italy there was a major incident which made us change our plans. So be very careful.
Vivien had already stayed a week in Napoli (Naples) to explore that town; also Pompeii and Herculaneum. We feel that Herculaneum gives a quicker, less tiring overview of domestic living in Roman times and Vivien agrees.
I have to point out that Pompeii shows more of the ‘Grandeur’ of Ancient Rome – but it is a vast site. I would still like to explore the side of Pompeii that was mostly closed in 2011 and is now open – but not sure if I can now manage all those cobbled streets.
Pompeii
Do both if you are keen, but allow two days to thoroughly explore Pompeii, however fit you are. (It can be very hot to walk around exposed to the sun and with little shade, even in October.)
Vivien decided that rather than come by train (about 1 hour) she would take the bus from Naples to Matera, which took four hours, as it stopped at many small towns and the route was via Bari. I do not know if Vivien was prepared for the age of most buses in Southern Italy, but she is a well-seasoned traveller and takes any discomfort in her stride.
A SMALL STREET MARKET
Matera Market
Vivien’s bus was due in around noon, so in the morning Graham and I went to find a street market on the outskirts of Matera. I was genuinely curious, wondering if Italian markets resembled the high quality of those we had found in France; I hoped to find cheeses and fruit from local farms.
It was not that sort of market, although I bought peaches – amazed at the huge bag that 6 euros bought. (When we got home all the peaches were bruised, so I cut them up and boiled them . Some went into a couscous I made, but I re-boiled the rest with sugar.)
This market was on a hill at the very edge of modern Matera and overlooked miles of country, including our ‘own’ Lake Giuliano. It was a tatterdemalion affair, such as you often find here in Britain; the crowded street a riot of colour from carpets, scarves, and jewellery winking in the sun; and, as usual, clothes. I was at last able to buy some American cloth for our kitchen table in a design that appealed, and that I could not find back in Britain (where so many patterns are just wrong for our 1900 farm-type kitchen).
SAVING NERO’S BACON
Also, it cost only 10 euros to replace my ruined, worn-once blouse, eaten by that wretched dog. Giuseppe said he had no name, so I called him Nero.
Nero
He is really a pretty young fellow, with a glossy black coat, despite never being groomed. He has never been trained, either, which is why he jumps at you, and bites – though he only made me bleed once. The poor creature is lonely, and starved for love. I would talk very quietly to him, and that seemed to calm him down, and he would come and lay his head in my lap. But he will never learn, I fear. We wonder how he is now, as Giuseppe planned to leave all the animals throughout the winter to ‘go down to the farm below’ on their own – he wanted them to become ‘working’ animals. In other words, he wanted feral cats – and the dogs to become guard dogs. BUT: I have to remind myself that Giuseppe is trying to ‘bring-back’ the farm, long neglected, and that even in animal-loving England our farmers keep ‘working dogs’ and dogs to guard the stock, and few of these ever enter the house.
VIVIEN’S IMPATIENT – FOR THE SASSI
Looking down into the Sassi
Though a bit travel-weary when she at last climbed down from the somewhat vintage coach, Vivien was avid to see the Sassi – she even declined the offer of coffee or a cold drink. We took her to the squares at the top, where she could easily look down on the entire ruined city – now fast being cleaned up and restored… Of course, she could not wait to find an entrance and explore further – who would not? Matera Sassi district is one of the wonders of the world…
The Sassi made of intimate piazzas
It is always a pleasure to introduce people to places you like and know a bit about, however sketchy; and we felt satisfaction when upon first peering through the three arches in a smart piazza at the top of the old town, Vivien’s eyes sharpened with keen interest.
“I can’t wait to get down there,” she said, and so we set off to explore, descending steps and ramps until we reached some ancient cisterns. It was at that point that I remembered that she who walks down must walk up again, so I left the other two to explore further and made my leisurely way back up. Once in the principal piazza I took a look around the Duomo. This white cathedral had a glass inset in the floor, through which you could view the very much older crypt church beneath. All of Matera is built ‘literally standing on top of one another’, but when it comes to truly ancient churches there is a special enchantment.
NOWHERE LIKE ITALY FOR ICE CREAM
Gelateria Matera
Deciding it must be high time to return to the larger piazza where they hoped to emerge, I took myself off to one of the best Gelaterias in Italy – and that is a tall order.
There was always a queue worthy of any in Britain outside the modest frontage of Il Vizi degli Angeli Laboratorio di Gelateria Artisanale. While waiting in line I studied the board to pick a flavour new to me – not a difficult task, as the list was long. I remembered trying fig, having never come across this blissful tongue-tickler in England.
EVER TASTED FIG ICE CREAM?
Oh, what bliss! I’m not especially partial to figs, especially the ‘fresh’ ones found in British supermarkets; and I can take or leave those sticky dried ones you buy in little boxes for Christmas. But in ice cream! Spotting Graham and Vivien coming across I persuaded them to try it, too (of course, they insisted on cautiously taking a lick each of mine first – and I did not get ‘licks’ back when they triumphantly brandished their overflowing cones, just as I was dumping the last of my dripping cornet in the rubbish bin.) We spent the next half hour or so ‘people watching’ and wandering the lanes of interesting and chic little shops; carefully hurrying past a certain little ceramic studio.
3rd October:
INTRODUCTIONS
Giuseppe had yet to meet Vivien. She was still in bed at about nine o’clock when I woke her up asking if she’d like a cup of tea. I don’t think she was overjoyed. We tend to wake up so early these days, and Graham would put the alarm on for 6am in order to write.
I stayed in bed until 7, but it seemed much later, so after washing some clothes and myself I did my unwelcome hostess act. No wonder she was tired – she had just done four days hard walking around hot and sweaty Naples, and day trips to both Pompeii and Herculaneum.
I can’t help thinking that the 4.5 hr coach ride yesterday must have been bumpy and hot, too.
GRAHAM – GOURMET DISH for GARDEN CRITTERS
The overgrown garden
Vivien was very welcome, not least because she brought a much more effective remedy than ours to tackle all those mosquito bites. These pests seem to smell Graham from miles off: (‘Hee, hey, ho hum – I smell the blood of an Englishman’) and zoom in for the feast. My poor husband is covered in angry red bumps, which itch and burn like mad. At home it is I who attract the insects – perhaps, like all Italian men, they treat foreign women with courtesy?
An old pergola supporting an old rare grape vine
This tube of stuff came in very handy when Graham took her to explore the villa’s lush garden, exuberant with greenery forever encroaching upon the lawns. The creation many years ago, mainly of Giuseppe’s father and late grandfather, it was now an enchanting jungle where the odd statue, marble table, or broken fountain hid amongst the profusion of palms, vines, pomegranate trees and every sort of shrub, both northern European and exotic – many that you only see at home as pot plants (often houseplants, and very small.) Vivien endeared herself to Giuseppe, and even more his father Mimi, by her keen interest in, and appreciation of the abundance in this ‘almost forest’ as Giuseppe called it. Whenever Mimi arrived, they made great efforts at bringing it back to its original, formal glory; but we Brits just loved to dive into the lush greenness.
