From Shame to Bond

Being a location for the most recent Bond movie has brought a new fandom to Matera, but long before then this southern Italian town had a very different and somewhat embarrassing past.

Considered the oldest inhabited settlement in Europe, Matera’s history dates back to cave dwellers 7,500 years ago. After being constantly attacked, the troglodytes shifted across the valley to take up defensive positions on the stassi (stone mountains). It is here where they carved their homes into rock, dotting caves along the cliff faces. Their descendants lived the same way for thousands of years until la vergogna nazionale d'Italia.

“We were called the shame of Italy,” rued my guide, Renato Favilli. He explained that in 1952 the Prime Minister of Italy visited Matera and was shocked by what he saw – extreme poverty, widespread disease, no electricity, human waste in the streets, and animals living with people in caves. Passing a law that forcibly evacuated the 17,000 residents to the adjacent ‘new town’, the stassi were left abandoned and decaying.

Things began to change in 1993 when Matera was designated a UNESCO World Heritage site, and tourists started coming to this ancient town in the arch of Italy’s boot.

“When we were named European Capital of Culture in 2019,” Renato continued, “we became even more popular!” That popularity was now heading our way, as multiple tour groups jostled for shade from the 30degree heat on the narrow cobblestone streets.

Unlike the day-trippers from nearby Bari, I had made Matera casa mia for the next few nights.

“Ciao!” bounced the effervescent Domenica, manager of Il Casale di Maria, a boutique hotel cut into the limestone of Stasso Barisano. Before she even showed me my room, she was scribbling on a tear-off map pad.

“Your Google maps will not work well here. Too many streets close together’. She circled restaurants. Underlined churches. Arrowed piazzas. “Prego!”

First up was what Matera is known for, its chiese rupestri or rock churches. Santa Maria de Idris is the most prominent, carved into a rocky outcrop overlooking the gravina far below. I put €4.50 into the ticket machine, took two steps to the right and before me was a faded fresco of Christ Pantocrator painted 900 years ago. The fact that these delicate works even exist today is astounding.

Not content with one rock church I made my way to Convento di Sant'Agostino, built by Augustine monks in 1592. Domenica had underlined a church that lay hidden beneath the convent – but I needed to seek permission to see it. Poking my sweaty head into the sacrestia, I surprised a priest who kindly directed me to the left of the altar. Unlocking an unassuming door, he waved me through a carved-out tunnel, and I stepped into the small subterranean 15th-century crypt of San Guglielmo da Vercelli. Sitting in a niche was a fresco of the Holy Trinity; beside it was Madonna col Bambino (Madonna with Child), dating to 1603.

Back outside my squinting eyes slowly adjusted to the low Basilicata sun, only to gaze upon what is arguably the best view in Matera. If I had prompted ChatGPT to create an ancient mountain town, with cliff-hugging roads, stone alleyways, twinkling lights at dusk, jigsaw-like houses, and topped with a cathedral, it would have created the view from Belvedere Emilio Colombo.

As the moon slowly rose, I found myself on Vico Santa Cesarea in front of one of Domenica’s circled restaurants. Carved into rock with a patio out front, Ristorante Baccus offers more traditional fare than its counterparts in Stassi Caveoso. Conjuring up my best Italian I ordered Polpo alla griglia con crema di patate al profumo di rosmarino. The octopus was stunning. After mopping up the sauce with the unique and strangely shaped Pane di Matera bread, I looked longingly at the dessert menu… but settled on an espresso.

The next morning I didn’t have to go far to find a local artisan at work. Concentrating hard outside his workshop-cum-shop, Pasquale was chipping away at a small block of limestone tuff. Everything inside he had carved himself and he told me he preferred to sell it directly. After browsing the uneven shelves, I purchased a small carved figurine of two cats together (who seemed to get on better than mine do).

Cats are a common sight in Matera. Throughout the streets are signs announcing, ‘Here lives a Protected Feral Cat Colony’ and it is forbidden to mistreat them. For the most part the felines were just lying on the road in the sun, oblivious to any passers-by.

The streets of Matera also host a surprising number of artworks, including Salvador Dali’s original bronze “Dalinian Dancer” sculpture – its blue hues matching the Materan sky – and the more contemporary The Drop, which I spent far too much time questioning if it really belonged in Matera.

There was one more arrow on Domenica’s map to visit: Palombaro Lungo (long deep well). A man-made cavity dating back to the 1500s, it was one of five cisterns that was used to collect rainwater for the town. I crossed the boardwalks suspended over the colourfully lit water, in awe at a cave that had once held 5million litres of water.

Making my way back to the hotel I ticked off the items on Domenica’s map, taking care not to obstruct the wheezing three-wheeled Piaggios full of tourists opting for wheels over heels.

Much as they were handy for navigating the stassi, something tells me they wouldn’t have been 007’s first choice of vehicle for the ancient streets of Matera.