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Published: September 29th 2016
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I was beyond excited to be able to go south for my last ACLE camp. For three months, I’d been all around northern Italy. Most Italians recognize northern and southern Italy as almost two different countries. Two weeks wasn’t a lot, but I got a taste of some of the differences.
My very first night in Matera, my family and another tutor’s family (whose mothers are sisters) took us to a family member’s birthday party. It reminded me of an outdoor summer party in southwestern PA. A big, loud family grilling on a farm! It was a fun evening where I learned how to make/eat bruschetta (yum!).
My nuclear host family was with a 13-year-old son and an 11-year-old daughter, who generally looked/acted as if they were 3-5 years older. Both spoke some English, but I spent more time talking to the son, because he was also in my camp group. He also interpreted a lot for his parents, neither of whom spoke much English. They made a great effort though! My extended host family, who we hung out with a lot too, had 14-year-old and 9-year-old girls. Both matriarchs reminded me of some of
my aunts in their effervescence.
I can’t say enough good things about this family. Really, each host family I had, I thought, “I’m so lucky. This family is wonderful.” And the families were all so caring and kind. They made my summer more than anything else. Italy is certainly beautiful, but getting to know so many sweet people has put it in my heart forever.
What I noticed in Matera was that Italians there were more the ‘stereotypical’ Italians. They used even more gestures than their northern cousins. They were louder and people tended to make noises to be dramatic. They were a bit more outgoing and apt to tease and joke around—at least my family was.
Southerners have the reputation for obeying driving laws a bit more flexibly. I did see a lot of questionable driving in the north, but one difference in the south was their relaxation around stuffing extra people into cars. One of my host families in the north was very cautious about bringing more people than seatbelts because they said that if they police catch you, they take the car! In contrast, on more than one
occasion in Matera, I was stuffed into a car like a little fish from the island nearby. Once we had 9 people in a 5-person car. We weren’t going far—don’t worry!
Matera was a jewel—well, at least a jewel that doesn’t shine; a place beautiful in its sparseness, brownness, earthiness. As one of the oldest continuously-inhabited cities in the world, it has its share of unique history. Traditionally (up until about 70 years ago), people lived in caves in the oldest neighborhoods (“Sassi”).
Over time, buildings were built around and on top of the caves as the city became more and more populated. But, during the time of modernization, people were still living in caves without sewage or electricity, and often alongside their farm animals. There was an outrage over their poor living conditions. The government forcibly moved the population to modern communities and filled in the entrances to their homes in the Sassi with concrete so that they couldn’t return.
My host grandma (“Nonna”) was born in the Sassi, but moved to a new apartment when she was young. She was also young when WWII happened, and still remembered a
Caves of Murgia
Across the river gorge from Matera, Basilicata jumbled American phrase her dad used to say. But no one can actually understand the gibberish! I spent two fun evenings and an afternoon with her. She taught me some words in the local language, Materano, and was really amused at how difficult it was for me to pronounce some sounds. It’s a language without a lot of vowels! My host family was so amused (or impressed?) by my rendition of the phrase ‘5 times 5 is 25’ that they filmed me.
So, back to the Sassi, a while back, some people petitioned the government to be permitted to restore the Sassi. The government gave some permits to them, and since then, the city has been on a huge upswing. I was surprised by the numbers of tourists.
The more controversial part is that some older people have never gone back to the Sassi since being kicked out because of their sadness. But, some local businesses have repurposed those same homes for profit. For example, while I was there, the Belgian king and queen came, and, according to our tour guide, stayed at the most expensive hotel, a cave
Paintings in a Cave Church in Murgia
Across the gorge from Matera, Basilicata hotel. It just so happened that the tour guide’s mother-in-law used to live in one of the caves of the cave hotel.
While I couldn’t ever live in the region because of how dry and un-mountainous it is, Matera is a perfect little city. The newer part of town is always busy, with tons of small businesses. It’s the kind of place where locals go out strolling, up and down the streets, chatting with friends they run into, getting a gelato if they feel like it. The more time I spent there, the more interesting I found it. You can feel that it’s had a rebirth, yet it has older establishments as well.
The Sassi neighborhoods are endlessly surprising. You never know what you’ll see when you round a corner or go up/down a set of steps. The architecture is getting more and more charming, as more people move in and remodel homes and add plants and decorations.
I spent a stressful evening chaperoning my camp group, who were filming some scenes from their movie in the Sassi. The yellowish glow of the electric lights helped me imagine what it was
like in the past, when maybe there were only torches and the moon to illuminate it. It was the perfect setting for the Mystery Gang to chase/be chased by Oopma Loompa zombies.
There’s also an area across the river gorge called Murgia where monks and shepherds used to spend time. It’s still pockmarked with caves that you can peer into. As with the rest of Matera, there’s a church or former church every 500 feet. Our tour guide said there are so many churches because they weren’t in continuous use, and they also collapsed. Both of the cave-churches I saw were neat because the paintings done on the rocks/plaster were still preserved, after possibly 1000 years.
My host family had a farm that they took us to for a Sunday afternoon. It was a farm, but it was also an animal menagerie. Some of the animals they had that I can remember are: donkeys, a pony, chickens, peacocks, turkeys, chickens, sheep, goats, other birds I don’t know the names of . . . I asked my host brother if they eat them all. He said, “No. We like them.” It seemed like a lot
of work just to like them. We ate family dinner all together. I was put in charge of the corn on the cob, which none of them had ever had before. It was a mild success, surprisingly.
After dinner, I was coerced into riding one of the donkeys. The other tutor got out of it somehow, but I know they wanted us to have the experience of doing it. It was fun, but a little unnerving when we started to trot, even though host dad held the reins.
After that, we played a relaxed small game of soccer with a partially-deflated ball, until we abandoned it for water. Inside, some of our family taught us a game playing Italian cards. What I’ve learned in Europe is that the cards we use in the US are called French cards. Spain and Italy have their own versions, with totally different suits and numbering systems. It was my second time playing with those cards, so I picked it up at faster than a glacial pace. Then we played foosball, and were promptly owned at it by my host brother, who insisted that he only plays once a
year. I still don’t believe it!
Every camp was a new experience with lots of tutors, campers, directors, host families, and camp locations to adapt to. Even though I only spent 2-3 weeks at each place, my families and I grew attached. I shed more tears saying bye to my Matera host family, but I was off for a whirlwind tour of Rome.
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