by Sally Branston
One trip which was
very different from the expectations raised by a newspaper article was to the
Sassi Gorge in southern Italy. The writer, Graham Fawcett, takes a trip to
Basilicata, inspired by the book "Christ Stopped at Eboli" by Carlo
Levi. (I can recommend this book for an insight into the southern Italian mind
and character, and appreciation of their history and culture.) Fawcett wrote a
very romanticised account of his visit and my own experience was somewhat
different.
 |
| Cave Dwellings at Sassi |
Leaving Naples on the
Salerno motorway, we were astounded to see a working electronic information
sign. In two and a half years of living there, we'd never seen such a thing
before and its impact was so surprising that we forgot to be cautious about its
message. "Traffic flow restrictions in Angri," it read helpfully. No
problem. Our motorway route took us straight past the little town of Angri.
Except that it didn't. The motorway was completely closed and all traffic was
being diverted into a narrow, potholed shopping street, totally unsuited to
cope with this additional burden. Hence the traffic restrictions. And,
possibly, the name of the town.
There is no such
thing as a signed diversion in southern Italy. When a road is closed you are
completely on your own. We followed everyone else for a bit until motorway
signs for Salerno eventually reappeared, then found ourselves on a nice new
stretch of motorway, completely unknown to us, but which did eventually lead to
Salerno - from the wrong direction - with the loss of only half an hour's
travelling time.
On towards Potenza,
along quiet A roads through dramatic rocky scenery marred only by the concrete
shells of uncontrolled building projects with which southern Italy is littered.
Near Potenza there was another diversion and also thick fog. We groped our way
up and down hilly, twisting roads until, without explanation, we rejoined the
road we had started on. We looked in vain for somewhere to stop and open our
sandwiches and flask of coffee, but there was nowhere to pull off the road, not
even a service area, and eventually we had to settle for an uninspiring
roadside layby just outside Matera.
The diversions meant
that we didn't arrive in Matera until 2 pm, just as everything was closing for
"riposo". We found the Piccolo Albergo recommended in the Times
with only moderate difficulty and were relieved to find that it was heated.
Many buildings in southern Italy aren't heated in winter and it can be jolly
cold We and two other couples were evidently the only strangers in town on this
Saturday afternoon in January, so we were easy pickings for the locals. We were
admiring the carved doorway of the town museum when the first
"guide" approached and offered to take us round the rock dwellings or
Sassi (for a small fee, of course). "Nothing is labelled and you won't
know what you're looking at without someone to tell you." Nothing is ever
labelled in southern Italy, thus providing official custodians with a useful supplementary
source of income, and guidebooks are rarely on sale, so we know to go well
prepared and do our own research beforehand. We managed to shake him off, but
not so the two stray dogs which adopted us shortly afterwards and persistently
followed us for the next three hours, until we managed to lose them in a busy
shopping street, making me feel very guilty. They were nice, good natured dogs,
but dirty and one was limping badly.
The gorge of the
Sassi is a World Heritage Site and actually boasts a signposted tourist trail
leading down into the cave dwelling area of
the Sasso Caveoso. The path is uneven and in one place has been dug up and
replaced by soft sand. It is also littered with rubbish and evidence of passing
dogs. The trail directs you to a belvedere where you can overlook the gorge,
and this gives the custodian of the Church of Santa Lucia alle Malve chance to
home in on you. Of course you would like to come with him and see the remains
of the frescos painted on the rocky interior wall of the church (the exterior
looks like a lock-up garage in a slum). Only a small fee is involved, although
you get the hard sell when he opens the drawer containing his little hoard of
guidebooks.
We counted ourselves
lucky to escape with the purchase of three only slightly overpriced postcards,
his parting shot being to tell us not to bother to visit the other cave house
area, the Sasso Barisano, as there would be nothing there worth seeing.
In retrospect, this
was probably a mistake, as he no doubt had some personal axe to grind, but the
cold, the terrible seediness of it all; the unwelcome attentions of the dogs
and yet another very persistent "guide" were enough to dissuade us from
venturing further.
The town was just
coming back to life again, although why the South clings to the notion of
siesta in the depths of winter is a mystery to me. We found a nice bar and had
coffee, then killed time back in our hotel room by watching an endless Italian
game show on RAI in which the contestants tried to amass a very small fortune,
100,000 lire at a time. The weather report forecast fog for the next day.
According to my
guidebook, the nearby trattoria was "the best in Matera" - not
necessarily untrue. The food, nonetheless, was poor and unappetising and the
couple ahead of us commandeered the gas heater and had it wheeled to within
inches of their table. As it was the only form of heating in the place, I kept
my coat on.
Next morning there
was indeed thick fog. This, however, did not deter the average local from
wearing his sunglasses. We headed straight off to Metaponto on the coast. There
were some Greek ruins
to visit - just us, the custodian and his cats - and then, in search of a cup
of coffee, we headed to the beach resort area. The sand was beautiful and
clean, the sea flat. There was of course neither car park nor coffee bar nor
anything else open, but we left the car outside the horse butcher's and had a
brief walk on the sand to say we'd seen the Gulf of Taranto.
Following the valley
of the Agri River back towards Salerno, the road took us through miles of
orange groves alternating with rocky cliffs. Anticipating further motorway
problems at Agri, we decided to return to Naples via Avellino. We'd never been
there, as the guide books say it's not worth a special trip, but we thought we
would have a quick look as we were in the area. Big mistake. You could get into
Avellino, but you couldn't get out again. The road we wanted had been closed by
a landslide and all roads led back to the town centre again. Eventually we
asked a local. "Napoli?" he said, stroking his chin, looking up and
down the road for inspiration. You would think we'd asked directions to a
foreign country. But eventually he came up with a route that worked. As all
roads in and out of Naples seemed to be blocked at the moment, I remarked to my
husband that they didn't seem to want to let outsiders in. "No," he
replied sadly, "They just don't want to let anyone escape."
**
Yes, before you tell
me about it, I realise there are certain cultural differences at work here. I
know that many italian people prefer to be shown round places of interest by a
guide, whereas British people tend to prefer to go round alone with a guide
book. Italians prefer to take a long lunch and we prefer to snack and eat our
main meal in the evening, particularly when sight-seeing. But if you had seen
how grotty and dirty this supposed World Heritage Site was, you would have
wondered, as we did, what the point of such a designation was, if it wasn 't
going to lead to its better preservation and some sort of facilities for
tourists. And I tend to disagree with those people who say they've never had a
bad meal in Italy. I've had several - it's like anywhere else in that respect.
This article is taken
from a fuller piece published in VISA issue 44 (winter 2001), part of which was
originally published in the newsletter of ItaliaSIG.
No comments:
Post a Comment