I go home in between my mountains so much like me. It would be more correct to say that I like them: bitter, dark, quiet but deep reassuring and solid, no frills. Where people say
bread bread and wine to the wine I'm fine there.
And then there's that sense of space: the cross you, Basilicata, from side to side, and you do not abandon the idea that you are alone, as a pioneer in travel for the Americas. As you approach the sea, the mountains, descending into bitter clay gullies capable, despite everything, to turn pink at sunset, silver fir and larch trees from the bark give way to low and secular olive trees, and the dry weather gives way to the maritime climate, to the beaches low fine sand that you stick on him, almost a curse, and a crystal clear sea where, if you're not careful, naughty hidden under the sand crabs popping out to pinch when you least expect it, fluctuating between fishes and beautiful purple jellyfish , beautiful but dangerous.
tourism promotion. This I am doing.
Basilicata is spectacular and little known. Perhaps it has few facilities but the reception is good compared very acceptable price and then, more than anything, a culture cleaning that I did not find in other places.
The streets are clean, clean restaurants, excellent cuisine and risky for the line, the posts are usually very well kept, the friendly people, perhaps, unwilling to salaams. If you are the guys who like it, maybe this land is not for you, and maybe that's why the rich Arabs do not get it and that there are billionaire whatsoever. But it is infinitely better.
We gain nothing, you can be sure, what I wish is that when I ask any kid if he knows what the capital of Basilicata I'm not saying that we are falling from the clouds all Neapolitans. I am anxious that this ancient land and barren does not disappear off the map, I wish that teachers of literature and geography also teach geography, a subject somewhat mistreated.
Christ Stopped at Eboli you will also, but in addition there is a heaven.
(continued. ..)
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