The Magic of Maratea

We came into Martea port in the late afternoon. It wasn’t long before the sun was dipping behind the mountains, fading the color out of the land to the black and white of twilight. There are plenty of berths. The tourists have all gone back to their everyday lives. We throw our lines to a helpful Italian standing on quay waiting for us. He generously tells us where the capitanari is and that it is closed for the day. Kip and I wander up the hill and stop at the first restaurant we come across that is open. It hangs out over the cliff overlooking the harbor. The food ends up being as delicious as the view. It used to take about a half hour to finish a meal. I find it taking hours now. We have slipped into the Italian way of life. Nothing is hurried, and everything is savored, friendships and food alike. I like to refer to Maratea as the Chinque Terra of the south with its string of villages all tenaciously hanging on the cliffs that rise up from the ocean floor.