Bitter delight: hidden Basilicata in San Francisco

Of Italy’s twenty regions, Basilicata, often known with its ancient name of Lucania, is probably the least known. Sprawling along the arch of the Italian boot, embracing both the Ionian and the Tyrrhenian Seas, this region is still undiscovered by the most avid, off-the-beaten-track, world's traveller. Even Italians struggle with its location!

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Basilicata_in_Italy.svg

Small towns dot its wild mountainous landscape, combining nature’s beauty with vestiges of a rich past.

Basilicata was once at the center of busy trade routes in the Mediterranean. It was invaded by the Longobards, Byzantines and Normans; and became the residence of the German emperor Frederick II in the Middle Ages.

Spared by the frenzy tourism that affects most of Italy, Basilicata’s two unrivaled gems, Maratea and Matera, have only recently started attracting a flock of international visitors.

Maratea sits on the Tyrrhenian Sea, perched on the slopes of Mount San Biagio. Its pristine black-sand beaches, lush Mediterranean vegetation, and turquoise waters have gained it the name of “Mediterranean’s Pearl”.



Home to stone-dwellings which have became a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1993, Matera, instead is the oldest continuously-inhabited settlement in Europe.

Maratea's port. Courtesy of  Viaggiare nel Pollino

Maratea coastline. Courtesy of  Viaggiare nel Pollino

La Secca - Maratea. Courtesy of  Viaggiare nel Pollino

Maratea's old town. Courtesy of  Viaggiare nel Pollino

So, you can imagine my surprise, after years of “Where is Basilicata?”, when last Friday, I spotted a bottle of Amaro Lucano at my local grocery in San Francisco. There it was, in bella vista, with a few other Italian amari (amari, the plural of amaro, literally translated as bitter are a type of liquor, usually derived from herbs, which is often served as a digestif after lunch or dinner).

Lucano is what Lucanians (the inhabitants of Basilicata) would have after a Sunday meal, in the afternoon as a pre-dinner aperitivo or most often as an after-dinner digestif. Its recipe is jealously guarded by the fourth generation of the Vena family, who started its production in Pisticci, Basilicata, in 1894.

Bottles of Amaro Lucano

Served neat, at room temperature, or with ice, Lucano remains a well-kept little secret. Few, outside Basilicata, would have heard of it.

What then was Amaro Lucano doing in a little shop in the Mission District in San Francisco? I swear, it wasn't there until recently. I am a regular at Bi-rite and I never saw it before. Someone must have discovered Lucania and Lucano!

So, the little secret has been revealed on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. Now Americans and the many fellow Europeans shopping at Bi-Rite might wonder, after buying a bottle of Amaro Lucano, where Lucania is.

In a way, I feel annoyed that this is no longer a secret. Perhaps the time has come that this unspoilt, remote region got some publicity.

Slow and noisy Caltrain..

It looks like old trains and crumbling transport infrastructures are not just a European problem. This Caltrain from San Francisco to Sunnyvale it is a mere example. It goes at the speed of a turtle!  45 miles per hour. Even cars, on congested freeways 101 and 280, are faster! I do not blame Americans for wanting to use their cars.

With the tech and solar industries doing so well, San Francisco-Sunnyvale is one of the most congested routes in California. The train is packed. It might make economic and financial sense to upgrade it. It is taking 50 minutes (San Francisco-Mountain View) to do thirty-eight miles!

Lassen Volcanic National Park- day 1

Lassen Volcanic National Park has been on my list of places to visit for a while. Attracted by its living features -volcanoes, boiling mud pots, hot pools- and the promise of wilderness and solitude, I wanted to go last March, when I first discovered its existence. But heavy snow and the closure of its main road meant that I had to wait until summer. So, when snow finally melted and a long weekend approached, 4th July, I already knew where to go.

We left San Francisco late in the morning on Thursday and stopped for a quick packed lunch in Williams - a small town on Highway 5. As we opened the car doors in the town’s parking lot, the heat engulfed us. It was 93°F (34°C) degrees. What a stark contrast to 65°F (17°C) degrees of San Francisco a few hours earlier!

A few miles after Williams, we had to stop again because my husband needed a coffee and would only drink one from Starbucks. Despite my attempts to convince him that coffee is the same everywhere in America, he did not want to venture in any of the other coffee shops we saw along the highway. He replied that at big chains you know what you get and the quality cannot vary so much. He had a point and I had no choice but experience another hot spell in Willows - the only nearby village with a Starbuck.

Despite the high temperatures, typical for this time of the year, it was mostly green around us: corn and sunflower plantations, fruit orchards, hayfields and olive trees. Miles and miles of intensive agriculture, which would not exist without the precious water of the Sacramento River and its tributaries, surrounded us.

At Red Bluff, we left Highway 5 and took Highway 36 towards East. The green farmland disappeared and a honey-yellow soil accompanied us until the outskirts of Lassen National Forest. As we gained elevation, we caught a glimpse of the lush and dense vegetation of the park.

Our first encounters with volcanic activity, and a prelude to what would come later, were a few mud pots and fumaroles at Sulphur Works, along the park’s main road, soon after the Southwest entrance on Highway 89. As you approach the area you cannot miss a stinky rotten-egg smell, which we later learned was from sulphur contained in the soil.

Lassen Peak and Lake Helen from Bumpass Hell trail

Sulphur Works were nothing compared to the scale of Bumpass Hell, the park's largest hydrothermal area. Certainly we could not miss it and so we embarked on a 5km hike to get there.

Just before reaching the area, as the vegetation rarefied, we got a grand vista of the hydrothermal activity and the bordering eroded soil. The rotten-egg smell was back. This time accompanied by a roaring sound of steam and boiling water.

If you have studied Dante's Inferno, the place will feel weirdly familiar and your mind will start travelling through your memories, trying to reminisce his descriptions.

A boardwalk took us through turquoise boiling pools, mud pots and fumaroles, all testifying the awesome and, at the same time, scary power of nature.

The place is named after Kendall Vanhook Bumpass, the explorer who discovered it in 1865 and who, unfortunately, lost a leg from severe burns after stepping into a mud pot.

Bumpass Hell hydrothemal area

Fumalores and mud post at Bumpass Hell

Fumaroles at Bumpass Hell

After the hike we drove to our motel in Burney - the only place with a free room we could find within a 40 miles radius from the park. With its 3,050 inhabitants (probably counting RVs and cattle), Burney appeared very small to us but had four petrol stations (isn’t too many for a remote village in Northern California?) and a few restaurants.

The lady at the reception recommended a steak house on the other side of the road. After a few disastrous attempts to eat meat-free during previous trips in the California, I had realized that steak was probably the best food you could get outside a big city. So, we quietly headed towards the steak house, knowing that meat would be our food for the next three days!

Coldest summer

"The coldest winter I ever spent was summer in San Francisco"      [Improperly Attributed to Mark Twain]                                                                                                       

I have to admit I thought that San Francisco's fog and cold summers were somehow of a myth but I had to think again after my return from Europe.

There has been a cold ocean wind everyday since I came back and temperatures have struggled to reach low 20's Celsius. Although fog spares the immediate six block from where I live, I could see it disappearing in the late morning (11ish) and then rising again in the early afternoon.

Due to global warming, things might have improved since Twain's time (even if he did not explicitly complained about San Francisco's weather, he kind of implied it!) and summer temperatures are now higher in San Francisco, but it still is the coldest summer I have ever experienced. I will have to wait until autumn for a real summer.

Walking in the Pollino National Park

I have not been blogging for a while and started feeling a bit guilty for having left my followers without news for such a long time. I guess I can be forgiven, considering that I travelled extensively across Europe over the last few weeks. After flying to London to see friends and family, and attending the wedding of two of our best friends in Apulia, we spent a few days re-exploring the Pollino National Park in Southern Italy. I used to know the area pretty well as I spent my childhood there.

All was as I remembered it from my last visit, two years ago, and still recalled from my childhood. Time has not passed in this remote land. If anything, helped by the copious rain of the last few months, everything appeared greener than usual.

Valle Mercure (Mercure Valley). Pollino National Park

Getting there is always a bit of a challenge, given the poor state of the road network, which has become worse after budget cuts and the numerous landslides that affected the area. Perhaps, it is this inaccessibility which has helped preserve the nature of the park intact.

Medieval town of Viggianello in the Pollino National Park 

We went for a walk in Piano Riuggo and from there followed a trail leading to Belvedere di Malvento (1,550m), a lookout point, where you could see the town of Castrovillari, the medieval village of Morano Calabro, and rare Bosnian pines on the rocky, rugged slopes in front of you.

Beeches in Piano Riuggio (1550m). Pollino National Park

Morano Calabro from Belvedere Malvento. Pollino National Park

Bosnian pines on rugged slopes. Belvedere Malvento. Pollino National Park

Although not as old as the sequoias dotting California, (centuries old) Bosnian pines are very rare .You can find them only in the Pollino National Park and and in the Balkans regions in Europe.

Despite being the end of May, the weather did not help us and we had to forgo a long hike to Piani di Pollino to see Bosnian pines close. Snow still covered the top of Serra Dolcedorme, the highest peak in the Pollino Park and in the Southern Appennini in Italy and weather conditions were variable and not suitable for a hike to 1,774m.

Serra Dolcedorme (2,267m)  from Piano Visitone. Pollino National Park 

We had to content ourselves with a not very eco-frienldy drive through Campotenese, Piano Ruggio, and Piano Visitone.

Serra Dolcedome from Campotenese. Pollino National Park 

Wild horses grazing in Piano Visitone (1,500m).  Pollino National Park 

Perhaps, images are better than words in portraying the wildness and still beauty of this hidden territory.

Tipping embarrassments

I have to admit I am having troubles with tipping. Beyond, the known rules of tipping at the restaurants, at the hairdresser, the rest it is unknown territory. Are you supposed to give a tip to someone who delivers you furniture, when you have already paid for the service? Are you supposed to give a tip to the technician that comes to install your internet and TV box?

If you are always to supposed to tip for any service, why do not include in the cost of everything instead continuing with this obscure practise?

The internet guy come the other day to set up internet and TV. It took him three hours. The internet did not work at first and he had to make several calls to sort out the problem. Since we did not have a TV, he also had to bring up a heavy old tv to check that the box worked. So, he really put an effort     -although his main motivation was not having to come back to fix problems and not my welfare.

At some point he told he had finished and was leaving. I did thank him and he asked if there was anything else he could for me. What else could he do for me? He had fixed the internet and the box. That is what he had been there for.

It not only until a few days after, when I told this to a friend, that I found out the real meaning of  "What else could I do for you?" The guy meant give me a tip I have done a good job.

Afternoon fog in San Francisco

Four o'clock in San Francisco. Fog is already rising in the Marina.