APRIL/MAY 2019 83
In the morning, an early walk in the olive grove, coffee out-
side, with an Ionian breeze George Gissing would describe in
three pages, and time to read about the convoluted history of
Calabria. Having been seized, attacked, colonized, and fought
over, the sad remainder of such strife is the brutal Calabrian
mafia. Unlike in Sicily, people we meet speak openly, acknowl-
edging how their lives are tamped by the
continuing hold of crime lords. As a tourist,
you only see abandoned, unfinished build-
ings, the road that narrows to one lane at
a bridge, piles of garbage—all infrastruc-
ture problems involving contracts paid,
money absconded, internecine clashes.
Regardless, everyone we’ve encountered
has been cordial and available, curious
about us, and eager to talk.
In Gerace, one of the most beguiling
towns in Calabria, the first thing we do is sit
outside at Bar Cattedrale, overlooking the
largest church in the region. We seem more
interested in the flavors of granita, which
carry a whiff of Arab heritage: bergamot,
almond, pistachio, peach, fig, fichi d’india
(prickly pear), and more di gelso (black mul-
berry). We’ve already been served crisp cat’s
tongue pastries and tarts with marmalade
of bergamot. Yes, the Norman church (circa
1045) is grand. When we finally go in, we
see how grand. A majestic double row of
columns, supporting two lines of arches,
advances down the length of the church.
Each column is different, suggesting that
some or all were taken from the nearby site
of Locri, a former Greek town. Historically,
Gerace was all about churches. Of the 128,
many were shaken down by earthquakes;
many now are closed. Especially atmo-
spheric is the Piazza delle Tre Chiese, three
churches, one of which, San Francesco, has
altars of polychrome intarsia. The intricate
designs are significant for ushering the
baroque into Calabria.
By late afternoon we are back on the
Tyrrhenian side, the siren side from the
myth—Scylla, the nymph turned monster,
devoured several of Ulysses’ men—the side
with the views of Sicily across violet-tinted
water. The faint color comes from an
undersea plant. And Sicily looks so close
that you could swim there. We check into
Altafiumara Resort above the sea, a green
respite of extensive gardens. We chose it forsleeping away the morning. We follow a path to La Madonna
della Pastorella, one of the rupestrian grottoes not uncommon
in the south of Italy—caves decorated with religious images. The
early art has eroded but the reward is a charming painting, not
old, of the Virgin and Child. Pilgrims have left notes, candles,
religious cards, photos, rosaries, and fake flowers.Calabrian color: an
idle Vespa in Tropea,
spaghettone
(opposite) with
local red onions at
La Tavernetta, in
CamigliatelloAPRIL/MAY 2019 83
In the morning, an early walk in the olive grove, coffee out-
side, with an Ionian breeze George Gissing would describe in
three pages, and time to read about the convoluted history of
Calabria. Having been seized, attacked, colonized, and fought
over, the sad remainder of such strife is the brutal Calabrian
mafia. Unlike in Sicily, people we meet speak openly, acknowl-
edging how their lives are tamped by the
continuing hold of crime lords. As a tourist,
you only see abandoned, unfinished build-
ings, the road that narrows to one lane at
a bridge, piles of garbage—all infrastruc-
ture problems involving contracts paid,
money absconded, internecine clashes.
Regardless, everyone we’ve encountered
has been cordial and available, curious
about us, and eager to talk.
In Gerace, one of the most beguiling
towns in Calabria, the first thing we do is sit
outside at Bar Cattedrale, overlooking the
largest church in the region. We seem more
interested in the flavors of granita, which
carry a whiff of Arab heritage: bergamot,
almond, pistachio, peach, fig, fichi d’india
(prickly pear), and more di gelso (black mul-
berry). We’ve already been served crisp cat’s
tongue pastries and tarts with marmalade
of bergamot. Yes, the Norman church (circa
1045) is grand. When we finally go in, we
see how grand. A majestic double row of
columns, supporting two lines of arches,
advances down the length of the church.
Each column is different, suggesting that
some or all were taken from the nearby site
of Locri, a former Greek town. Historically,
Gerace was all about churches. Of the 128,
many were shaken down by earthquakes;
many now are closed. Especially atmo-
spheric is the Piazza delle Tre Chiese, three
churches, one of which, San Francesco, has
altars of polychrome intarsia. The intricate
designs are significant for ushering the
baroque into Calabria.
By late afternoon we are back on the
Tyrrhenian side, the siren side from the
myth—Scylla, the nymph turned monster,
devoured several of Ulysses’ men—the side
with the views of Sicily across violet-tinted
water. The faint color comes from an
undersea plant. And Sicily looks so close
that you could swim there. We check into
Altafiumara Resort above the sea, a green
respite of extensive gardens. We chose it forsleeping away the morning. We follow a path to La Madonna
della Pastorella, one of the rupestrian grottoes not uncommon
in the south of Italy—caves decorated with religious images. The
early art has eroded but the reward is a charming painting, not
old, of the Virgin and Child. Pilgrims have left notes, candles,
religious cards, photos, rosaries, and fake flowers.
Calabrian color: an
idle Vespa in Tropea,
spaghettone
(opposite) with
local red onions at
La Tavernetta, in
Camigliatello