On the rails again: By train to the southern-most point of Italy (12): Maratea

The Pearl of the Tyrrenean

After the hustle and bustle of Rome and even more Naples, I long for a quiet spot to relax for a couple of days. A sea side town somewhere between Naples and Sicily. It has to have a station, a hotel close to the station and preferably also a couple of interesting sights since I am not at all somebody who likes to spend a day on a beach. My finger on the map ends up in Maratea, which seems to fulfill all these requirements.

View of the Cilento peninsula across the bay from Maratea

Wikipedia calls it "the Pearl of the Tyrrhenian". It also is in the list of I Borghi più belli d'Italia ("The most beautiful villages of Italy"). Maratea belongs to the Italian region of Basilicata. As the only community of this impoverished province it has approximately 32 kilometres of rocky coastline on the Tyrrhenian Sea with more than twenty beaches and a port. There are sea views, wooded hillsides and mountains which end at the sea at steep cliffs.

View of the mountains inland from Maratea

With these promises in mind I reserve a hotel with pool and buy a ticket for the Regionale train. At a price of 13.90 € for 193 km from Napoli to Maratea it is not worth to waste a day of my 15 day in two month interrail ticket. The ticket is valid today only. When I arrive at Napoli Centrale I ask myself why I still have to decompose the ticket at one of the machines in the station.

Old town Maratea

It is the train to Potenza that will stop in Maratea. For once the departure platform is announced in proper time. It is a double deck train of six cars. The train has two toilets, in the first and in the last car. An old fashioned train of 10-12 coaches of similar capacity would have had at least 10, probably more like 20-24 toilets. The modern passenger doesn’t need toilets so much any more. I guess the toilet is replaced by the use of mobile phones…. Durng this ride the train is basically empty, so the number of toilets should be sufficient.

View of Vesuvius from the train to Salerno

An empty train does not guarantee that there is not at least one fellow traveler who shouts in his telephone loud enough for everybody to enjoy. In this case the culprit falls asleep pretty soon so that I can enjoy the ride in peace. The train passes on the high speed line across the plains south of Napoli. It offers a spectacular view of Vesuvius, then stops at Salerno and Battipaglia, where the line towards Calabria branches off the line to Apulia. Still in the plain it passes the hellenistic tempels of Paestum before it winds through the coastal mountains of the Cilento.

One of the many viaducts along the railway south

Railways were built elaborately in Italy. The line crosses numerous viaducts and tunnels. This line was originally constructed between 1883 and 1895. Earlier, in 1875, south-western Italy had been connected to the north by the less difficult but longer single-track line along the South coast via Sibari and Catanzaro. The operation of the railway with all the inclines and tunnels must have been an ordeal with steam engines. Between Agropoli and Vallo della Lucania double heading and banking engines were necessary. The line was only electrified in 1939. After that trains could hauled with electric engines over 1310 km from Milano to Reggio di Calabria. However, capacity was still limited since there was only one track. Only in the 1960ies this important link between backward southern Italy and the north was double tracked. At the same time the topological layout was improved by new tunnels, viaducts and detours. Old unused viaducts can be seen along the route. Meanwhile a high-speed detour is under construction. Since it will mostly be in tunnels it will not have any attraction for the traveler except the gain of time.

Abandoned viaduct from the previous line

I descend in the sleepy, sun-burnt station of Maratea, located between two tunnels. For long trains like the Frecciarossa and Italo high-speed trains, which also stop here, the platform extends until into the tunnel. The level crossing has disappeared, there is no elevator so that everybody has to lift his roller-cases down and up the stairs.

At the station of Maratea

I did not ask anybody to pick me up from the station. The hotel is half-way between the railway tracks and the coast. It involves a twenty minute downhill walk including a long flight of stairs. The alternative would be to follow the main road which has a lot of traffic. Pedestrians are not taken into account here. The stairs don’t look like they are used frequently, covered as they are with weeds and discarded leaves. I go down a bit to make sure the stairs don’t end in the nowhere so that I have to carry my bag up again. Then I stumble down.

The stairs down to the village of Fiumicello

The hotel is in Fiumicello, a village which is part of Maratea. There is a pool and a balcony overlooking the coast to sit and read. A bar offers coffee and drinks and I get a cappuccino while I wait until the room is ready.

Hotel Murmann in Fiumicello

The main street of Fiumicello is Via Stefano Rivetti di Val Cervo. There are a couple of cafes and a pizzeria, a chapel and a shop serving basic provisions. The remainder of the village mainly consists of houses with big gardens full of flowering plants. The few driveways all seem to end at stairs which are part of a maze of footpaths between the main village road and the coast. Are these the only way to get to the big houses and gardens? Most of the properties look shut up and closed, waiting for their owners to return for the summer.

Via Stefano Rivetti di Val in Fiumicello

Fiumicello means "little river" which refers to the little stream coming from the valley below the higher parts of Maratea. But who was Stefano Rivetti? Count Stefano Rivetti di Val Cervo was an Italian industrialist who had the vision to develop Fiumicello in the 1950s. He used post-war development funds for industrial investment in combination with the progression of regional tourism. Rivetti not only established a textile factory to stimulate local employment but he also opened the historic Hotel Santavenere. It became an exclusive resort for artists, filmmakers, and the jet-set. Pier Paolo Pasolini, Domenico Modugno, Anita Ekberg or Peppino De Filippo stayed here. It also was Rivetti who after 1963 commissioned Maratea’s landmark, the Christ the Redeemer statue (Statua del Cristo Redentore) by sculptor Bruno Innocenti on Mount San Biagio.

Via Stefano Rivetti di Val in Fiumicello

One of the stairs ends at a stony beach where a single elderly lady has settled down to have a dip. I scramble and climb across the rocks towards the bigger, public beach. There is hardly anybody there. Now, begin of June, the hotel above the beach still seems to be closed. The beach bar is open and a couple of guys wait bored for a customer. It is hot and I have a drink.

The beach of Fiumicello

High above the beach the Redentore towers on a rocky outcrop. Behind it was the original old town and fortress which now is next to abandoned. The beach ends at the base of a steep rocky slope. There is a promenade, which was paved with cobblestones. Part of it was washed away by a winter storm. The well-known temporary-permanent wire-railings block further access to the caves in the cliffs to the right and tidal pools to the left. I guess they are afraid the passer-by is hit by fallen debris or stupid enough to slip from the low cliff into the sea.

The Redentore above the beach of Fiumicello

To the west it is a 20 minute walk to the porto, a little neighborhood of Maratea around a small harbor. The only way to walk there is along the road which does not have space for pedestrians. I cling to the edge since it is impossible for oncoming cars to see around the narrow curves. Fortunately there are few cars, only this guy who enjoys to disturb the peace of the sleepy village by racing his roaring motorcycle up and down the bends without a helmet. Every village seems to have one.

The port of Maratea

The old neighborhood around the port is quiet, lovely and picturesque. The big parking lot and the number of restaurants, cafes and tourist shops give an indication that this might be different in high season. The massive flood wall of concrete and big junks of rock proves that it also can be quite rough here in winter.

The port of Maratea

I end up on a sort of terrace overlooking the harbor. Unfortunately there are hardly any beautiful fishing boats left here. The old buildings to the right stand on rocks, beneath which the black holes of grottoes gape. The terrace is filled with tables and chairs that presumably belong to the Tre Modi restaurant. Everything looks deserted; I assume the restaurant isn't open yet. The view is lovely, and I can sit here comfortably and draw.

Alleys in the port of Maratea

However, soon, a guy walks hesitantly toward me. I expect that he is about to send me away. But he just wants to see what I’m doing. He says I could sit at one of the tables; the restaurant doesn't open until around 7.

Hotels and Restaurants at the port

Soon, a young, tattooed blonde woman wearing a headband arrives and begins setting the tables: tablecloth, a second tablecloth, napkins, cutlery, wine glasses. All the while, she tries to keep her young daughter occupied. She mentions that she does this twice a day - after lunch everything is cleared away, only to be neatly set up again for dinner. What an undertaking. She is pleased that I appreciate her work.

Dinner at the port in Maratea

My drawing is nearly finished when a second waitress arrives. She wants to take a photo of me and the drawing - which didn't turn out particularly well. By now, it’s almost 7:30 - dinner time. I take a seat at a table and have the undivided attention of both servers. No other guests arrive before I finish dinner around nine. The servers have set all the tables in vain.

Sunset at the port of Maratea

I’m having pasta with tomatoes and sardines, a baked sea bream, and three glasses of Pinot Grigio. Bread and mineral water come as a matter of course, just like everywhere else in Italy. Attentively they have set mosquito coils close to me. Maybe the stagnant water in the caves under the houses helps the insects breeding.

Dusk in Fiumicello

When I head back after the meal there is actually a bit more life in the front part of the harbor. Apparently, no one made the trek all the way to the Tre Modi restaurant; it’s likely too far to walk from their cars. The waitresses there will have to clear everything away again. In the last of the evening light I drag myself up the hill covered in sweat. I try not to be run over during the 20 min walk on the dark winding road back by one of the diners from the harbor restaurants driving home.

Flowers around Maratea

The center of Maratea (called Maratea Borgo, meaning "Maratea's Old Town") is situated on the northern slopes of Mount San Biagio, between the station and the statue of the Redentore. After the fall of the Western Roman Empire, southern Italy became part of the Byzantine Empire. From the 7th century, the Tyrrhenian Sea came under the control of the Saracens, who terrorized the coastal towns. For safety reasons, the local inhabitants built ta little fortified urban centre, the Castello, on Mount San Biagio, close to where the Redentore is today.

Old Maratea in the shadow of the Redentore

After Southern Italy was conquered by the Normans in the 11th century the Castello could no longer house the increasing population. A new urban centre called the Borgo (meaning "village" in Italian) was found on the slope under Mount San Biagio.. To avoid Saracen attacks the location was chosen because it could not be seen from the sea. Today the ancient Borgo is the principal urban center of Maratea.

The station of Maratea

It is a steep uphill walk of around an hour from my hotel, up the stairs to the station and on to the center of the Borgo. It is hot the next morning. Already when I pass the station I am covered in sweat. From there most of the path leads in a straight line uphill along stairs. I admire the many lizards who seem to hush away effortlessly upon my approach.

Laundry spot of the village of Maratea

I take a rest at a number of basins which must have been the laundry facility of the village and pour the fresh water from the jet over my sweaty face and arms. The remains of a couple of pillars show that the facilities were covered with a roof to provide some shade for the women doing their hard work. While I struggle uphill numerous youngsters stroll downhill on their way to the beach. I console myself with the thought that once I’m up there, I can easily walk back down, whereas they will sweat again while they have to climb all the way back up after their refreshing visit to the beach.

The path climbing from the beach to the village

Many of the houses of the old town center are abandoned. But there are plenty of cafes and little businesses along the main street, partly called Corso Guiseppe Garibaldi and partly Via dell’unitá d’ Italia. I get a cone of ice-cream with the flavors of chestnut and fig and collapse at one of the tables facing the little Piazza Buragia. A man joins me and asks me whether I mind him smoking. He speaks some English and has spent a while in Germany. He complains that many of the houses are empty. Even from this pretty, attractive coastal area people move away. There are lots of rooms for tourists but the season is limited to July and August.

Entrance to old Maratea

Despite the many empty buildings they have tried to make the best of their little town. There is a museum in a palace, closed, and a big church, under renovation. Maratea is called the town of 44 churches. Wikipedia has a list. A fountain sprays cool water. In the afternoon, when it is the hottest, it is switched off. The Corso is lined with benches and potted plants.

Stairs everywhere

The upper parts of the village are the typical maze of narrow alleys and stairways. Where cars can pass, the walls bear scratch marks of drivers misjudging the width of their vehicle. Again I sit down to draw. From a house closeby I hear an old woman shouting, probably at her phone. The shouting echoes through the empty, narrow alleys. She later joins me and it turns out that she is neither old nor loud.

Cafes at the town square of Maratea

The hidden location did not entirely protect the Borgo from robbers. On May 21st1676 the village was besieged by 160 bandits. Their target were the affluent local families. During the ensuing battle in the streets a resident was killed. However, the guards at the Castello on Monte San Biagio were attend and started to fire cannons at the lower town. One cannon ball hit and scattered a rock. One of the fragments killed the bandit leader. Without him his gang disappeared.

Via dell'Unita d'Italia in Maratea

For a long time Basilicata and Campania were isolated. Due to the mountainous landscape many locations were only reachable by boat. The stairs and mule paths were the main means for transport and communication. When Italy was finally united in 1861 the area and also Maratea suffered extreme poverty. Many inhabitants emigrated to the United States or Venezuela.

Fontana della Sirena

With the construction of the railway in 1894 the isolation was broken for the first time. In 1902 a first aqueduct was built, electricity was introduced in 1924. It took until 1930 before solid roads connected the Old Town with the coast and the neighboring villages. The circumstances in these impoverished and remote areas of Italy are immortalized by the 1945 novel "Christ Stopped at Eboli" (Cristo si è fermato a Eboli) by Carlo Levi. Levi was a Jewish Italian writer, painter, and doctor who was exiled by Mussolini to a remote village in Apulia.

Stairs and chapels

It was also thanks to Stefano Rivetti who tried to improve connectivity in the 1950s. He plied for road improvements, port developments and the establishment of local transit to link Maratea, the coast and the surrounding Lucanian mountains.

Via Cardinal Gennari

Still there is a big difference between developed and industrialized northern Italy and the south. Therefore, after world war II many responded the call to go to Germany as migrant workers. Many of them sent money to improve the fate of the folks back home or used their savings to build a house to return to after retirement. It might explain the many empty houses who might belong to people working elsewhere and only coming home into their lovely village for vacation or for family celebrations. When I have a pizza in the Via Conte Stefano Rivetti also the waitress tells me she has relatives all the way north in Flensburg, Germany.

Three of the 44 churches

When I walk across the village square the next morning a shaky bus is ready for departure. The driver tells me that he will go to the Borgo. I understand that I can board without a ticket for now. Later I can buy a ticket at the Tabacchi in the Borgo. The vehicle immediately takes off. First to the port, then to the station. The driver seems to know everybody. At the station the driver asks jokingly whether he ought to go all the way to the “binari”, the platforms. There are no trains today because of a strike.

Three of the many passages

On a roundabout route we approach the center of the Borgo. Suddenly the vehicle stops. The driver points at the Tabacchi and tells me to get off to buy a ticket. While I join the queue inside, the bus continues its route. The Tabacchi seems to be a shop for everything. Next to cigarettes and bus tickets it sells lottery lots, drugs, accessorizes, bags, perfumes, panties, toilet articles, toys and all kind of other stuff.

The Tabacchi to buy bus tickets

The ticket is 1 €. I buy two, in case I need to go back. Cash only. If I have correctly understood the bus will start the downhill tour at the square at 13.10. I thought I would find back the bus at the square to show the driver that I have indeed bought a ticket or cancel it but the vehicle has disappeared.

Inside the Tabacchi

At the base of the Borgo the Piazza Europa seems to serve as a bus station. Various busses are waiting for their turn but there is no timetable or box office anywhere. Google doesn’t give any information either. Eventually I walk back down again along a quiet street through the valley. It is quiet since it is blocked halfway for cars since a part has been washed away.

PACE

The next day the trains are running again. The hotel arranges a driver to bring me to the station. On the platform I meet an Austrian couple who stay in the same hotel. I did not see them there….