Thisplaceisn’tminebutI feellikeI belongtoit.A
pale-pinkhousewithitsbacktobare-ridgedmountains
anditsfaceturnedtowardsthesea.Greenlizardslazing
onwarmrocks,bougainvilleariotingovera pergola,a
shinglebeachat theendofthegarden.
It tookmea whiletofallinlovewithBasilicata.At
firstit wasonlythelittlepinkhousethatdrewmeback
thankstothecousinwhohaskindlyletmehaveit
wheneverI asked.ButyearafteryearI keptreturning
untileventuallytherewasnowhereelseI wouldratherbe.
BasilicataliesinthesouthofItaly,theinstepbetween
thetoeandtheheelofthisboot-shapedcountry.It
doesn’thavetheshowyappealofotherbetter-known
regions;nottheswaggerofNaples,therichesofFlorence
orRome,theromanceofVenice.Thisis a landtouched
bypoverty.It is a placeofscarredbeauty.
MycornerofBasilicatais theCostadiMaratea,
a shortstretchofrockycoastlinethatnudgesCalabria
at itssouthernend.Aroundthecoastthereis a road
madeofhairpinbendswithdizzyingviewsacrossthe
TyrrhenianSea.A roadthatleadsdowntoa small
harbourwitha clusterofseafoodrestaurants,with
fishingboatsmooredalongsidesleekyachtsandold
mensittingbeneathtrees,playingcardgamesonsummer
evenings.A roadthatveersupwardstoMarateaitself,
a hilltoptownofsteep,narrowlanesand 44 churches,
somedatingbacktothe15thcentury.
Highabove,onthepeakofMonteSanBiagio,is a
giantstatueofChristtheRedeemer, 21 dramaticmetres
ofreinforcedconcreteandmarble,standingwithitsarms
stretchedwide.Illuminatedat nightthistall,whitefigure
seemstohoveroverthesmalltown.
Admittedlythereisn’ta lottodointhispartof
Basilicata.Perhapsa kayaktourthroughtheseacaves
ora visittotheGrottadelleMeraviglie,a cavernbeneath
thecoastroadthatis filledwithlimestonecolumnsand
stalactites.Thereisn’tmuchinthewayofshopping
either, a few artisan linens and bright ceramics to buy.MostlyinBasilicatawetrytolivelikelocals.
Drinka coffeeinthepiazza,takea strollfora gelato,
buywildasparagusandbabyartichokesfromtrucks
at theroadside,cooka bit,eata lot.
Thefoodherehasn’tstrayedtoofarfromtradition.
Thereis lotsofLucanicaporksausage,waxycaciocavallo
cheese,meatfromthelarge-hornedPodolicacattlethat
grazethemountainswithbellsaroundtheirnecks,
thesmokysweetnessofdried,crushedSenisepeppers
scatteredoveralmostanything,fromseafoodtopasta
dishes.Alltobeenjoyedwiththelocalwine,Aglianico
delVulure,a pepperyearthyredandthenchased
witha glassofthedigestion-enhancingherballiquor
AmaroLucano.
MylifehasbeenpunctuatedbyvisitstoBasilicata.
I celebratedmy40thbirthdayhereandmy20th
weddinganniversary.Yearsagoit feltasif noone
elsehaddiscoveredthisstretchofsouthernItaly,
nowit’snotasraretohearotherforeignvoices.
Partofthereasonforthatis thetownofMatera,
famousforitssassi,thecavehomesthatwereonce
squalid,crampedplacesandhavenowbeentransformed
intoatmospherichotels– mypickis SextantioLeGrotte
DellaCivitawhereyoucandinebycandlelightina
deconsecratedrockchurch.Materais anexperiencelike
noother,tobetherefeelslikewalkingthroughhistory.
ButwithscenesfromthelatestBondfilmshotinits
historiccentre,it is onlygoingtogetmorepopulated
andfabulous.It alreadyhasBasilicata’sonlycurrent
Michelin-starredrestaurant,VitantonioLombardo.
TheCostadiMarateais almostthreehours’
driveawayfromallofthatactionandherelifemoves
slowlyandquietly,nothingseemstochangemuch.I
wasyoungandlivinginEnglandthefirsttimeI visited.
NowI’mmiddle-agedandbasedontheothersideof
theworld.ButI willalwaysfindreasonstoreturnto
thisplacethatnever tried too hard to win my heart but
won it anyway.➤Aloveletterto...
BASILICATA
ByNicky Pellegrino
Dear Italy...
Fourwritersrecallthemomenttheylosttheir
hearts to Italy – and the regions that stole them.
PHOTOGRAPHY GIUSEPPE MONDI.