Excuse my absence, friends, but there's been drama and illness in my house lately, and it's been difficult to work up the energy and enthusiasm generally required in writing these posts.
Anyhoo, buckle in, kiddies, 'cause this is going to be a looooong post. Matera is magic.
I'm not quite sure how, but we got ourselves (ok, Mike got us invited) to the southern-Italian wedding of one of his fellow rugby players in July. Apulia is yet another region in Italy that I've been dying to see, and the opportunity to visit the area and go to a wedding there (what an honor!) was a huge one for us. My generous (...and probably insane) husband again let me plan the whole thing, and my first order of business was to book us 3 full days in the city of Matera. You'll see why in a moment, but first, a quick detour on our way to Matera from the airport in Bari to the perfectly-octagonal Castel del Monte.
Yet another of Frederick II of Swabia's 13th-century fortifications in southern Italy (that guy was prolific), it's impressive from the outside...
...although really, the only remotely interesting things on the inside are the vaulting, the occasional massive chimney, and the smattering of column capitals. It's essentially empty, and almost entirely devoid of decoration and furnishings.
Nifty octagonal interior courtyard, though.
And then, it was off to Matera. We rolled into town, managed to find our B&B with only a little trouble (that place is a maze), and then set off to explore some before dinner.
FYI, Matera is one of the oldest continuously-inhabited cities in the world (in such company as Aleppo and Jericho). It's built into two ravines, the "Sassi" (Italian for "stones"), and over the ridge that divides them, all of which run perpendicular to another, much larger and deeper, ravine that divides the Materan plateau. Naturally-occurring caves atop the plateau were already occupied during Paleolithic times, and since the countryside's extraordinarily soft limestone lent itself to easy excavation, cave dwellings and elaborate water collection systems expanded and evolved over the centuries as some people tunneled deeper in, and others built up using the stone quarried out of the caves. As with most of southern Italy, the Greeks and Romans came through here, along with (among others) the Byzantines, Saracens, Swabians, Aragonese, and Bourbons. During the Middle Ages, both Latin- and Byzantine-style churches were carved into some of the caves and fantastically frescoed; in the 13th century, the cathedral was built in the Civita (the point of land dividing the Sassi from each other); and in 1663, Matera became the capital of the province of Basilicata (ok, ok, so it's not quite in Apulia), bringing wealth, sophistication, and prosperity to the area.
Modern history, however, was not nearly so kind to Matera. When the capital was moved to Potenza in 1806, local fortunes declined precipitously; those who remained wealthy moved up to the plateau, and the Sassi--many of which had been converted to storage spaces, as people built upwards--were again inhabited, this time by the poor, who shared their cave homes with their animals (to prevent theft) and suffered from malaria, dysentery, and 50% child mortality rates caused by the damp, unsanitary conditions in the unmodernized caves. In 1953, the Italian government forcibly evacuated the citizens of the Sassi to purpose-built housing atop the plateau, and the Sassi were fenced off and abandoned. As early as 1959, however, a group of young Materans began exploring and documenting the caves, with the goal of preserving the communal, centuries-old, conservation-focused culture that had evolved there. They organized volunteer clean-ups and, in the 1970s, despite the Sassi's reputation as being dangerous (full of thieves, squatters, and drug users, oh my), they began slowly moving back into the area and renovating caves and decrepit palazzos there. In turn, these actions drew in other small businesses, artisans, restaurants, and the predecessors of today's boutique bed-and-breakfasts. They lobbied for, and received, government protection and funding, and in 1993, the Sassi became a UNESCO World Heritage Site (...due primarily to the age, efficiency, and uniqueness of its water-collection systems). And I have to say, thank goodness for those early efforts; Matera is like no place I've ever seen. It's a downright wonder.
Once we figured out where to park our car that first afternoon--no small feat, and again, I'm compelled to heap praise on my husband's parking prowess!--we set off to explore anything and everything we could reach before dinnertime.
And just look at this. The view over Sasso Barisano--the more gussied-up of the two Sassi--from Piazza Vittorio Veneto, which was about a two-minute walk from our B&B. (Unbelievable.).
The rupestrian (rock-carved) church of Santo Spirito (originally built in the 9th century, and in use until the 17th) under Piazza Vittorio Veneto, with the Mater Domini church (built in 1680) above.
The inside of Santo Spirito, with 12th- or 13th-century fresco remnants on the far right, and carved arches overhead.
Meandering through the upper city, we discovered this baroque church, which, upon first glance, might not seem so exciting...
...but then we noticed that there were skulls All. Over. It.
Like, everywhere.
Seriously.
There are even a couple of guys roasting in flames on top. We learned later that this is the Church of the New Purgatory, the architectural theme of which (at least, on the outside) is death, both as the great equalizer (hence the various hats on the door skulls) and as a gateway to the next life and redemption. We could not figure out how to get into this place--we walked past it half a dozen times, and it was never open, nor were there hours posted anywhere either on the church itself or on the all-knowing interwebs--so we only got to see the outside, but the exterior was fascinating enough for me. Craziness.
On our way down about a thousand steps to dinner--surprise! a town built up and down the sides of ravines has a ton of steps!!--we caught our first glimpse of the rather impressive hunk of rock topped by Santa Maria de Idris and San Giovanni in Monterrone, two more of Matera's 150-plus rupestrian churches.
Dinner was at Le Dodici Lune, this gorgeous little place on the far eastern side of town.* We shared a plate of mashed fava beans with chicory, olive oil, and grilled bread, and then I had caserecce pasta with eggplant, squid, and basil, and Mike went for the tortellini with ricotta and pumpkin in caciocavallo cheese sauce. We shared a main of local black pork filet with fig sauce, gravy, sauteed chicory, zucchini, and lemon mashed potatoes, the split a piece of ricotta cheesecake for dessert. All fantastic.
After dinner, we discovered that just around the corner from our B&B is the stunning little church of St. John the Baptist, parts of which, from what I can tell, date to 1233, with restoration done in the 17th century. That portal is stunning, which is interesting, because this is the side of the church; its main facade was destroyed (why, why, why?) when it was incorporated into the adjoining hospital (on the left in this photo) in 1610.
Day two began with breakfast at our incredible little B&B (such lovely hosts! such a beautiful building, and what a breakfast! can't recommend that place highly enough!), and then a drive across the gravina--the large, deep ravine on the edge of which Matera sits--to the Parco della Murgia Materana (the park of the Materan plateau, part of which is also called Murgia Timone, due to all of the wild thyme that grows there). This park is honeycombed with Paleolithic caves; remnants of Neolithic, Bronze, and Iron Age settlements; some fortified farms; and the majority of the area's rupestrian churches. In other words, totally in my wheelhouse. (If you visit, I recommend booking a tour here, as some of these churches are off-limits to the general public, and one can only get in with a guide.)
Take this church, for example: it was locked, but our guide had a key and wouldn't let any guideless tourists in. (Hah!) This is San Falcione, which dates to the 9th or 10th century and contains a remnant of a later fresco of San Nicola (center). The larger complex here was used by shepherds over the ensuing centuries as a campsite; a place to smoke meats and cheeses...
...and a place to shelter animals. Here, slots in the walls just big enough for sheep to pass through, for the purpose of counting them. (I love how utterly simple and yet entirely effective that is! Sheep slots for the win!)
Ugh, the views from this plateau just don't stop. I took about a hundred of basically-this-photo alone.
The aforementioned thyme! (There were so many wild herbs up there.)
Another rupestrian church, this one down in the gravina. (No, we were not into hiking down to it. It was about a jillion degrees out there.)
San Vito alla Murgia, with its just-barely-discernible 17th-century frescoes of San Nicola, San Rocco, and a random monk. I had to ask our insanely knowledgeable guide, Cosimo**, how they could possibly tell who the figures were, since these frescoes are mostly gone; he explained that they could tell it was S. Nicola by the garb and mitre, and S. Rocco by the plague wound in his leg. (Gross, but fascinating.)
San Nicola.
Water collection system...
...with tons of channels carved into the rocks.
Undeniably the most fascinating part of Matera, Sasso Caveoso.***
Caveoso, a little closer. As we all know, this sort of thing feeds my compulsion to explore, but these caves are mostly sealed off from the public. (Cosimo told us that there are one or two well-known [and tolerated] squatters in the place, but otherwise, these caves are entirely empty and unused.)
Around the back side of that hilltop, we found the church of Madonna delle Tre Porte (Madonna of the three doors, since there are 3 large arches in this cave). Those crosses carved in the central column were left by visiting pilgrims over the centuries.
These were definitely the best-preserved and most numerous frescoes we'd seen, but tragically, some pieces of them were stolen by a German professor in the 1960s. (That square-ish shape where the face of the figure on the far right would have been is an example. Appalling.)
After making our way back to the car past various caves and ancient cisterns, we drove back into town and had an excellent lunch on the lovely little balcony at San Biagio Ristorante (featuring more favas and chicory, burrata with bacon and veggies, some amazing fresh figs, and probably the best olive oil I've ever had!), then decided to check out the cathedral.
It sounds weird, but these little sculpted vent covers are one of the symbols of the city: they're just about everywhere, on every wall, and the variety and beauty of them is just astounding.
See?
Ok, ok...one last one, just for show. (This one is actually a replica of the cathedral's rose window.)
Heading up to the cathedral through Sasso Barisano.
Almost there...but I had to stop, almost constantly, to admire the views.
This thing was completed in 1270, although parts of the interior collapsed during an earthquake in 2003. (Made it a good long time, though!) After 13 years of restoration, the cathedral was reopened to the public in 2016. The exterior, I read, is "Apulian Romanesque"...
...but inside, it's 100% baroque. (That ceiling is something, though.)
During renovations, they found some frescoed crypts/chapels under the floor, most likely from the 1200s, that were paved over during the 16th century. (That's a presepe from 1534 in the background.)
Snippet of 13th- or 14th-century fresco of the Last Judgment.
Back outside, we made our way along the gravina side of the city...
...to one of several cave-house museums in the area. (This one is Vico Solitario, and has been furnished with items typical of a cave inhabited in the early 20th century.)
The Vico Solitario complex also has its own rupestrian church, St. Peter of Monterrone. This is one of the few in the city in which photos were actually allowed.
Speaking of rupestrian churches, our next stop was the absolutely spectacular Santa Lucia alle Malve, where, of course, no photos were allowed. This particular church was used by a community of Benedictine nuns between the 8th and 16th centuries, and it is covered in frescoes from (mainly) the 13th. The place is stunning. Do yourself a favor and look at the photos.
After that, we squeezed in a visit to the churches of Santa Maria de Idris and San Giovanni in Monterrone...
...which are the tiny, conjoined churches, perched atop that crazy spire of rock on the edge of the gravina. Again, no photos allowed, but imagine, if you will, still more ancient frescoes from the 12th through 17th centuries.
Not a bad view from up there, either, because Sasso Caveoso is spectacular, no matter where you see it from.
On our way to get cleaned up before dinner, passed these two little kitten buddies. Eeeeee.
Dinner that night was rather meh, but at least it was in a cool cave restaurant.
A pretty great reuse of a space like this, especially since they're using that lower room as the literal wine cave.
The next morning (after yet another sumptuous breakfast, and a move into a bigger, better room--which we didn't even have to ask for!), we headed off to check out some more churches.
The view from the massive terrace on our new room. Yes, please.
Our first stop was San Pietro Barisano, another rupestrian church with a handful of frescoes; a few altars and bits of things left over after the place was looted in the 1950s; and the most amazing underground space: the original, 12th-century church under the floor of the existing 18th-century one. As the current church was being built, niches for corpse draining were created in the older, underground space. (For reals: those rooms were lined with rows of what looked like seats, where they'd prop the bodies of priests or aspiring priests to decompose. Photos here. So creepy.)
Next, we made our way over to Sant'Agostino (ca. 1750), which is both impressively large and impressively perched on the edge of the gravina.
Underneath Sant'Agostino is, of course, yet another rupestrian church, the original Augustinian construction here, dating to the 11th-ish century. (Photos allowed here, woooooo! Although these particular frescoes aren't as old, from about the 17th century.)
Then, over to the12th-century Madonna delle Virtu complex (church and monastery), where photos are especially allowed, as the place has been used for filmmaking.
It also serves as an exhibition space, currently featuring a bunch of really weird modern art...
...but there are some unique sculptural details as well, like this incredible ceiling.
Above Madonna delle Virtu is the 10th-century San Nicola dei Greci, the oldest of the rupestrian churches. These frescoes are from the 12th through 14th centuries.
There's also another cave-house complex here; it contains some excellent examples of the rainwater collection systems in use here for centuries.
Here, a large-ish and absolutely 100% still-functional cistern. These things are everywhere inside these caves and are plastered on the inside with local clays to make them waterproof.
Also ubiquitous: these massive vats walled into the caves for wine-grape-stomping!
After another insanely picturesque tromp back through the city...
Those views don't quit!
So many pretty buildings!
...we wound up at the Palazzo Lanfranchi gallery, for one specific reason: to see some of the Murgia frescoes that have actually been recovered from Germany over the years. Amazing.
Oh, sure, there were other things to see in that museum, but these were the highlight. (These are from Madonna delle Tre Porte.)
And these, from Santa Maria de Idris, although it wasn't clear to me whether these were stolen or removed for conservation, 'cause that's happened in a few places, too. Either way, neat.
Outside, it was baby kestrel season. These little guys were hiding in every single statue niche on the palace.
Hee. I think we spent more time watching them than we spent inside the actual museum.
Afterwards, we opted for lunch again at San Biagio. Look, it was convenient and very tasty, and the awesome waiter kept bringing us free stuff, so how could we resist? We shared another plate of local burrata (which came topped with bacon and surrounded by the best steamed veggies); a dish of crunchy veggie couscous and one of beet/almond dip (both of which came from the waiter); a bowl of spaghetti with shrimp and almond pesto; and a plate of orecchiette with tomato, basil, and caciocavallo cheese.
The view from lunch.
And really, look at that food. I'm not a big fan of beets, but this dip tasted more like potatoes, and was exquisite with the homemade bread.
Really, the only way to improve good burrata is to put bacon on top. That's it.
We sat there and watched the swallows and kestrels wheeling all about as we ate. (Sooooo many little kestrels--lesser kestrels, actually, and the way those things hover and soar is mesmerizing.)
View from the belvedere next to the palace. I can't even, with the scenery here.
After lunch, we headed out for more underground explorations.
Past the Matera Prefecture building, with lions by 'The Simpsons'...
...to the large (1500 square meters!) underground complex of Ipogeo Materasum, which includes homes, communal ovens, a warehouse, a snow cistern, a milling room...
...and this massive space, which was possibly a church. It's widely agreed that no once can date the original creation of this space with any sort of precision (but hey, this site has only been open to the public since December), although it's surmised that parts of this were excavated during the Middle Ages, and you have to imagine that it grew over time, as it was in use until evacuation in the1950s. (Those white marks on the walls were created by quarriers; the oldest floor level in here was the height of that bit extending from the central pillar.)
This place was filled with dirt until just a few years ago; the owner bought it with the intention of excavating this whole massive underground area. I'll just let you read about that process for yourself. (Wow.)
Then we took a quick tour of the Palombaro Lungo, a massive cistern underneath the Santo Spirito church (which is, itself, underneath Piazza Vittorio Veneto). From the entrance, looking down into the cistern.
This thing is 50m long, 16m deep, and holds something like 5 million liters of water. Its excavation began in the 16th century, with the most recent expansion finished in the 19th. (Branching off from roughly ceiling level here is an entire underground medieval city, which is currently closed to the public, but which the city plans to make into a museum someday.)
Next, we headed towards Sasso Caveoso to try to visit the Convicino di Sant'Antonio, another complex of cave churches and houses, but alas, it was closed, so we had to settle for the views...
...sheesh...
...and for poking around some cave houses there that were not closed to the public. (This one's for sale, if anyone's looking for a cave house in Matera, complete with its own wine-stomping vat...)
There were actually a surprising number of these that were accessible, but we only stuck our heads into a couple of them.
We also stumbled into Casa Grotta del Casalnuovo, another museum-ified cave house, this one three descending levels deep. (First room = people; down a staircase to the second room for animals and equipment/storage, then another staircase to the third room, which seems to have been primarily for wine.)
Next door was the Cripta di Sant 'Andrea, an originally-12th- or 13th-century cave monastery that was also three levels deep. This time, the top was a prayer vestibule for the monks, which later had more of those wine-making vats built into it; the middle level was where the monks slept; and the lowest level is the crypt itself, with an arcosolio tomb, some actual bones (in that roped-off area at the bottom), and the creepiest Jesus fresco I've ever seen. (He's definitely watching you.)
This rather lumpen style of bread was served at every meal, and it turns out that it's particular to Matera. This is what was baked in those communal ovens, and its long shelf life is due not to any sort of preservative, but to the way its recipe evolved within the context of Matera's traditional culture of conservation.
One more quick swing past San Giovanni Battista, this time in the daylight...
...when we discovered the elephants on its eastern facade...
...and then it was off to our final dinner in the city, at L'Abbondanza Lucana. For once, we actually went a little bit lighter and only ordered primi: we started with some outlandishly good homemade bread with the second best olive oil I've ever had, and then Mike went with pasta with caciocavallo and squash blossoms in a white lamb ragu, and I had the most astonishing plate of pasta with plenty of smoky, slightly bitter pepperoni cruschi, these sweet, local peppers that have been dried and fried (and, in this case, crushed).
LOOK HOW PRETTY. Such amazing flavor...I just wish they'd been a little more generous with those tomatoes, which were spectacular.
Dessert was, as usual, irresistible, and we shared the piccola pasticceria (of course), which included bites of dark chocolate-covered crispy rice with candied nuts; almond brittle; and wee glazed spice cookies. Yum.
And with that, we concluded our three super-action-packed days in Matera, which was almost enough time to see everything one should see there, but not enough time to just enjoy the scenery and to poke around a bit. Next time.
Up next: hilltop cities and hobbit houses galore.
*Interesting side note, it took them 7 years to renovate this previously-ruined vicinato into a gorgeous hotel and restaurant. The vicinati were communal courtyards in which the residents of the Sassi would spend most of their waking hours when at home, socializing with neighbors; helping each other with chores, babysitting, and agricultural work; and baking together in massive communal ovens.
**Cosimo quite literally knew everything there was to know about Matera. He grew up there, and when I asked him how long he'd been giving tours, he said, "Since I was six years old." That was not a joke; as a child, during much leaner times in the city, he'd been one of a pack of kids who offered Sassi tours to tourists for a Euro or two. Other than a couple of years in Bologna for university, he's been in Matera his entire life; he even tried out living in a cave house for a year or so, and hated it. (It's absolutely no wonder everyone moved up to the plateau top, he says.) The man pointed out every possible interesting plant and animal; could name each cave we trekked past, and how/when it was used; and provided us with a remarkable amount of historical information about the land, the people, and the architecture. It was a really, really ridiculously good tour, and Cosimo is a lovely, knowledgeable man.
***Another interesting side note: the hilltop from which I took this photo was used as a the site of Golgotha in 'The Passion of the Christ'. Apparently, Mel Gibson was obsessed with Matera, and, like several other filmmakers before him, used the city as a stand-in for Jerusalem. There are a number of pieces of various film sets that are still in place around the city.
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