Amalfi, Cilento, and a Greek surprise

There’s something about travelling on your own. Especially when it’s somewhere you’ve never been before, even more so when you know little about it.

That’s why my breath was taken away when I saw the massive columns glowing golden in the morning sunlight, a glorious surprise on the flat, uninteresting plains some 90 km south of Naples. Paestum is a gem, regardless of your expectations. Populated by the Greeks around 650 BC, it contains some of the best-preserved Greek temples in the world, and boy are they impressive. The fact that they’re still standing, pretty much intact, some 2,500 years after being built tells something of their amazing construction. But what strikes you most is their size – they’re absolutely massive, and built with a precision, grace, and scale that I’m doubtful could be produced today.

Called Poseidonia until the Roman takeover of 273 BC, the site not only reveals layers of history that cover centuries and different cultures, it also conjures visions of the spiritual world that its citizens lived in. Three main temples dominate the place, dedicated to two goddesses – two to Hera (the goddess of fertility and motherhood – Juno in the Roman world), one to Athena (goddess of wisdom and the arts – Minerva to the Romans).

The town was abandoned when deforestation silted up the rivers nearby, turning the area into a malaria-ridden marsh. Ironically, it was the marshland that ultimately saved the buildings from ransacking and destruction. I’ve been to the Parthenon in Athens, and seen the Pantheon and the Coliseum in Rome, but I have to say nothing prepared me for the grandeur of Paestum – for me they blew the other legendary sites away. Maybe it was my lack of expectation, or maybe not …

Paestum is on the northern end of the Cilento National Park, second largest in Italy. Combining stretches of rugged coastline with expanses of sandy beaches, it’s not as dramatic as the Amalfi Coast further north, but in many ways it offers more. There are a lot more places to swim, for example. And inland the Alburni Mountains rise rapidly, creating an entirely different atmosphere and environment, where cool forests offer misty vistas and miles of hiking trails. In fact, it’s been declared a Unesco Biosphere Reserve, giving the area the protection it needs to retain (at least some of) its distinctive character.

Tough job, though, in Italy – on the drive up to the sanctuary on the top of Mount Gelbison, trash littered the way up, just as it does on the steep coastal cliffsides. “National park” in Italy means something a little different from other places in the world – people carry on their normal lives here, living in their towns, farming their land, building their industry, disposing of their waste ... I know from our own area back in Marche that the parks protect certain fauna and flora, so I assume that this is how they achieve some sort of protective preservation. But like so many things in Italy, there’s a contradiction – people throw their rubbish out of the car window, but they won’t pick a flower because its protected …

I stayed two nights in Cilento – one at an inland agriturismo, where I enjoyed a hearty meat-based dinner, and one on the coast at a young couple’s B&B. In many ways it’s comparable with our own mountain-hill-coast combination in Marche, but it’s different in that the mountains are far closer to the sea in Cilento, and it’s coastline overall is more rugged, the Marche’s Conero section of the Adriatic coast being the only exception. Indeed, driving through the cool, green countryside inland reminded me of my own home further east. Had it been warmer, the beaches might have been more inviting, although finding the best spots proved frustrating and fruitless, with roads to Punto Licosa declaring “Private” and preventing me from satiating my curiosity and desire for exploration. But there’ll be a next time, there’s still lots to explore …

Before the Paestum and Cilento experience, I drove the renowned Amalfi coast, my first time. It is indeed dramatic and not for the faint-of-heart, but I must confess our “Sorrento squeeze” experience topped it for sweat-on-the-brow. Stopped in to look at the famed Amalfi cathedral, a Byzantine work of art supposedly housing the remains of St. Andrew, the town’s patron saint. Tourists everywhere, as one would expect, but I must say it’s really an appealing little town, nestled into the crook of a steep mountain valley as it descends to the sea. Left there with a rahter unwanted souvenir - a 36 euro parking ticket.

The drive through Salerno down to Agropoli at the northern edge of Cilento, however, was nothing special, with the long stretch of coastline offering a sort of second-class oceanside experience – run-down resorts, dusty towns, and a rather bland stretch of beach which didn’t really appeal despite its lengthy span. But I suppose one has to have the average in order to appreciate the special, and it served to speed up my arrival in Cilento, for which I’m unquestionably grateful.

Pictures to follow.