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Southern comfort
As we boarded our plane for Rome I realised I was really nervous. In the weeks leading up to this trip, I'd immediately opened every Italian guidebook I'd come across to the Safety and Security section, to see if my unease was justified. I wanted to find out if our planned trip – self-driving around southern Italy – was foolhardy.
I'd even quipped to friends: “So long as we get back with our bags and passports, I'll be happy”. Then I'd add, “And the car!”
The plan was to drive south from Rome – where it turned out the rental company had upgraded us to a natty little navy blue Alfa Rom[eo – then south to Naples (heeding warnings galore about pickpockets and worse).
From there we planned a quick lap around Sicily (watch out for the Mafia, friends said) then back to the mainland, outlining the ‘boot' of Italy and the back of the leg, crossing back from a point on the east coast, level with Rome.
Four weeks, we'd given ourselves, to do all this. That's if we lasted the distance. Word was the locals weren't too fussed about tourists. That was yet another thing and I wondered why I wasn't simply packing up and heading for Paris. My mood was as black as a Calabrian widow's dress.
But we were curious to see if the myth was correct. Other books had told us that the people of the south were warmer and more hospitable, the food better, the roads quieter, the scenery more spectacular.
We simply had to go and find out for ourselves.
Looking back now, I can hardly believe those dark and negative thoughts. Today, my memories of the south of Italy, rightly subtitled the mezzogiorno – the midday – are as bright and sunny as its name.
Admittedly, the trip began well, with the lucky combination of a hotel overlooking the Bay of Naples and Vesuvius, and something we couldn't have planned, a full moon rising, casting a silvery path right to our feet. Such a romantic evening had to be an omen.
Such a long and varied trip is not easily recounted. Best perhaps to share some snippets like the flashes of scenery seen through the arches in the endless gallerias that Italy does so well. We passed through kilometres of these, plus tunnels and viadotti (viaducts), the latter striding across the countryside on 50-metre high pylons.
Yet when we slipped away from the autostrada , which was often, we found the real Italy. In one tiny village in the Aspromonte, the mountainous ‘bunion' on Italy's big toe, we heard music as we slowed. It was Sunday and a 13-year-old lad, dressed in his best, was playing an accordion in a shop doorway. Not for money, but simply because he was obviously a very talented musician. He solemnly and politely played on so we could listen, while his family beamed with pride.
In the Lucanian Dolomites, in the centre of the south we switch-backed up hundreds of metres to Castelmezzano, a town inserted amongst tall fingers of rock, and ate perhaps our best meal of the trip in a dim hotel dining room – truffle bruschetta, handmade pasta, fresh golden figs and baked pecorino.
Nearby we stayed in Matera, the setting, we were told, for the filming of The Passion of Christ , but more famous for the fact that it is a UNESCO World Heritage site and riddled with thousands of cave dwellings that until 50 years ago were still inhabited.
By this time we could see the myth of the dark and dangerous south was just that. We'd already experienced more kindness than we would believe. In Sicily two separate hosts looked us in the eye and begged us to call them if we needed anything, ANYTHING at all, as we travelled on.
In Calabria we left one bed and breakfast, laden with grapes and a bottle of wine for the journey; at another we were greeted with a box of sweet almond cakes. And rather than stealing from us, at least twice people picked up things we had dropped and ran after us to give them back!
We are seasoned travellers, so despite this we still kept our belongings secure. “The most dangerous place for car break-ins,” we had been told in Rome, “are the autostrada service areas. One of you should always stay with the car.” So we did.
But staying in Agriturismo (farm stay) and bed and breakfasts gave us security and freedom too.
Highlights of the trip? Too many to recount, but here is a fistful – Erice, a stunning medieval hilltop town on Sicily's north-east corner, home to the best almond cakes in the world; over-touristed Alberobello in Puglia with its quaint conical-roofed houses that still manages (somehow) to be utterly captivating; Greek ruins in Selenunte and Agrigento in Sicily standing high and mighty still after two millenniums; and gelati – I tried them everywhere.
More
Italian Government Tourist Board
Web www.italiantourism.com
Useful websites for country accommodation
www.ware.it/Agritour/ital.htm
www.holidayfarm.net/en/welcome.htm
www.agriclub.it/uk/net_index.asp
Helpful books
Lonely Planet Italy
World Food – Italy , Lonely Planet
Insight Guide Southern Italy
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