During the middle of our journey, we moved fast through many places. On several occasions, we were substantively in three cities during one day. I wrote notes along the way, but I got behind. With these next four, or so, entries, I aim to catch up. I want to make a general remark about my aim to avoid, perhaps unsuccessfully, repetition. After a time, I found the geography and the beach water was consistent. I mean, the beach waters we have seen have all been exquisite in their colors. The constant hills have all rolled and have all varied from green to brown in color and have all had olive trees, vineyards, stone walls, etc. If I have described things similarly, too often, I am sorry.
Though we are sleeping only in ten cities, we will, by journey's end, have seen about thirty. The goal is to explore southern Italy. That, necessarily, requires a fast pace. We have had two cars, each for about ten days. Both were Fiat's. Both were stick shift transmissions. It is very hilly here. Wes gets gold stars for outstanding driving through intensely chaotic streets, particularly in Catania.
Wes and Marlow
Matera, Italy
May 16, 2016
Much of the southernmost part of the Italian peninsula and the large island of Sicily have many hills composed of soft stone. Maybe it is limestone, I am not sure. The stone is referred to as tuffo. Through the milennia, the soft stone eroded. Natural caves occurred and people set up housekeeping in them. I am not talking about "prehistoric cavemen" with clubs. The people, through circumstances beyond their control, happened to be born there and the caves provided a good shelter. Of course, there are serious issues involved in cave living having to do with sanitation, a source of clean water, plumbing, electricity and that is where we begin, in the extraordinary mountain village of MATERA.
The city of MATERA, came to prominence because of their caves and the living conditions of the families who occupied them. For thousands of years, in their caves, they cooked, slept, raised families and housed their donkey. The donkey, here called asino, was good for riding, hauling things, but was also beloved company, like a pet. Also, and this will be foreign to us, it's "poops" radiated heat enough to keep the room warm. Eventually, as a family needed more space, they cut and scooped out more of the stone. The scooped stone was not hauled away. Instead, it was piled or stacked at the mouth of the cave. Eventually, those additions grew into small stone cottages. Between cottages, footpaths were established. The centuries passed. The families grew. The cycles of life occurred. The old died. The young grew. But in MATERA up till the nineteen-thirties, while much of the world modernized with electricity and running water, the caves did not. About seventy years ago someone wrote a chapter in a book in which he exposed the unsanitary cave conditions. The Italian government was embarrassed and moved to make improvements.
Today, MATERA impresses with it's rolling hills terraced with stone cottages. The surrounding hills are lush and green. They, too, have caves, but are uninhabited and without stone structures in front. In our time, a Hollywood movie, The Last Temptation of Christ, was filmed there and residents still talk about it. The plan devised by the Italian government removed the cave dwellers until improvements could be made. Some evicted cave dwellers have been allowed to return. Other caves have been meted out to entrepreneurs who have created multi-starred cave hotels. Real estate prices have soared. Caves that remain uninhabited are in municipal limbo. One can make an application. Review of the applications takes years and it takes connections, too. We engaged a guide to walk us up and down and through the city of MATERA. He loves history and and art. His work is more than a job. He was outstanding and we learned a lot from him. His name is MICHELE ZASA.
We did not stay in a cave. Wes rented someone's apartment. It is on the fourth floor, at the top of a fortress building which has ground floor wall that are several meters thick. Not all of the apartments in the building are renovated. Ours has been. It has three, high-ceilinged, interconnected rooms. The owner, a cellist, told us, "when you go to bed, you will be sleeping under a thousand year old roof". We had a full kitchen with a terrace for two that has a magnificent crow's nest view. The living room has a tuned piano and a terrace for four facing other cave bearing hills. Through our open windows, we heard a clarinet, a bassoon, a piano, a saxophone and a soprano. The music conservatory is around the corner on the main piazza. The sound of students practicing was wonderful. They are sculpting and refining and creating their small ripple to send out to the world. On our first night, we went to a concert of music for harp ensemble. In each small city, when we arrive, I say, somewhat as a joke, "this town needs a viola player". There are have been so many opportunities to play here. So many good rooms. People, when they hear I play viola, get smile and become excited.
MATERA has become a cool destination. There are young adult entrepreneurs who operate wine bars and ristoranti. One eatery, in one cave, long and slender, had decor equal to the coolest eateries in the capitals of the world. The tables were dressed in luxury linen. My fingers loved the texture of the weave. Their wine list was long. Every bottle local. Each glass we drank was an unusual taste treat. We had our first aglianico wine and loved it. The food was very good, too. The next night, blustery and rainy, we exited a sweet romanesque chapel, held our rain slickers tightly closed and walked, heads down, into the rain to seek a warm and dry place to sit and have a bite, though it was a bit too early for dinner to be served. We saw a window aglow. Inside, there were basic wooden tables without linens. We went in. It was empty. Two people in a back room said it was okay to stay. The room was quite bare. Wes noticed a placard which stated the communist philosophies of the place. We had house wine. It was unremarkable, yet perfect. We ordered plates of vegetables which were nothing more than a vegetable sliced onto a plate and drizzled with oil, vinegar and salt. The vegetable was new to me. A cross between a cucumber, a melon and a zucchini. Fantastic. I did not get it's name, but I ordered a second plate. The place does not cater to the whims of tourists. It is not for tourists. It is for locals. Sometimes, our desire to try all the foods and dishes which we have read about in books, steers us away from the things plain, ordinary and local that are, maybe, what is really eaten in the neighborhood. If the locals were to read our guide books they might be surprised at what is recommended to us.
Eventually, we packed our bags, walked down the seventy-two stairs from our top floor apartment. We rolled our bags past the conservatory and caught a last earful of a soprano and of a bassoon. We loaded up our Fiat "popemobile" and began our drive toward our next destination, TROPEA. If the Italian peninsula is a boot then TROPEA, in the region of CALABRIA, is the part of the foot before the toes.
Wes and Marlow
Matera, Italy
May 16, 2016
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