THE MAREMMA / TUSCANY’S Wilder Side

My husband Mischa and I zipped through the undulating Tuscan countryside in our rented apple green Opel. Suddenly in the luminous dusk, the red stone abbey of Monte Olivetto Maggiore soared out of the groves of pine, oaks and olives. After parking the car, we walked up to the monastery, one of Tuscany’s most beautifully situated, eager to hear the Benedictine monks’ Gregorian vespers, which wafted through the abbey’s portal. It was a sublime introduction to our journey southwest through the Maremma, a little-known corner of Grosseto province, Tuscany’s southern and largest area.

We love Italy and have seen the wonders of Florence, Siena, Pisa, Rome, Naples, Bologna, the magnificent region of Emilia-Romagna and even a few of the lake areas around Milan. This time, my Italian friend, Elisabetta, whose home town is in Grosseto, suggested a vacation together in her province to see the bittersweet land of the Maremma, with its scenic coast and the island of Giglio.

We hardly were aware of the coast in Tuscany and never had heard of the Maremma, but Elisabetta’s enthusiasm was convincing. We would meet her in Ansedonia, but I understand Italian (French is my mother tongue, a close linguistic cousin) and the few days of exploring on our own would be easy.

The Maremma occupies a vast wedge between Latium (Rome’s region) and the rest of Tuscany, but is defined more by climate, fauna and flora, history, regional food and the character of its inhabitants than by geographical boundaries.

It took 3,500 years to write the history of the Maremma, from the Etruscans to Greeks to Romans, on to the Middle Ages, the Renaissance and the dominion of the Medicis. Now for a taste of the region, you need drive less than two hours from Rome or Florence--and you’ll find it unforgettable. The countryside reminded me of old Dutch paintings. The Tyrrhenian Sea wrapping the land lends sparkle and charisma to the coastal cities. It is an Italian version of Martha’s Vineyard or Big Sur.

From Florence, we had taken a short train ride to Siena, the jumping-off spot for the Maremma, and rented the little Opel for a week. It was still daylight in late summer, and warm. Feeling like a break for gelato and bracing espresso, we stopped in a snug cafe and came upon Piero, an ancient mariner and poet. Piero spoke French and the Latin he learned when he studied for the priesthood, a calling he abandoned to marry 42 years ago.

Piero appointed himself our temporary mentor. He related that long after the Middle Ages, the Maremma was bogged by swamps, riddled with malaria. Drained dry, it still was unpenetrated by main highways and had to wait until the 1950s to be “discovered.” Like many locals, Piero has embraced the new industry of turismo, and holds a job working on a ferry boat. But the Maremma is still enough off the beaten path to discourage many travelers.

*

During the few days we had in the Maremma, we intended to make our vita as dolce as possible, to enjoy a symphony of experiences that could be reached in easy stages: nature reserves perfect for trekking, bird and wild animal watching; Monte Amiata, a dormant volcano that is the highest peak in Tuscany; the Etruscan and medieval villages of Saturnia, Sovana and Pitigliano on the sloping hills southwest of Siena; the beautiful Costa d’Argento (Silver Coast) with fashionable Ansedonia and the spectacular promontory of Monte Argentario from which white ferries whisk you to the island of Giglio.

Our first overnight stop in the Maremma was the Hotel Terme di Saturnia, an elegant resort fed by a hot volcanic spring whose health-giving waters have been popular since Etruscan days. The hot, sulfurous spring water runs off at about 200 gallons a second, making a laughing little brook through fields of sunflowers until it cascades down onto terraces of flat rocks. This area, a short drive from the hotel, is open to the public free of charge, but with no amenities for changing clothes. It was fun paddling in the stream with giggling children and mamas, then sitting precariously on smooth stones, letting the thermal waterfalls rush down our backs.

There were a few American tourists at the hotel. But during our entire stay in the Maremma, I never felt the crush of tourists. It may have been the end of the season or the simple fact that the area is not really promoted and hardly advertised. Hotels, with the exception of deluxe properties, serve mainly Italian or European clientele.

We devoted the following day’s excursion to the villages of Saturnia, Sovana and Pitigliano, all little towns of Etruscan origin. Little is known about the Etruscans, who lived eight centuries before Christ and dominated what is now Italy, from the Po valley to Naples. They were arms dealers, processing iron and making weapons that their ships carried to all the ports in the Mediterranean. They were culturally sophisticated and, like the Egyptians, buried their dead in fantastic necropolises.

The tiny medieval town of Sovana is built on the ruins of an Etruscan settlement. When we were there, the place was quiet, airy and mysterious. One needs a local guide to visit some of the temple-style tombs--with columns, niches and bas-reliefs--carved into the rock. The most famous is the tomb of the humble monk Hildebrand who became Pope Gregory VII.

We went a few miles farther on a tortuous road to the ancient fortress of Pitigliano, situated high above the cave-riddled cliffs of the Lente valley. Jews settled here in the 15th century, fleeing persecution from papal Rome, and Pitigliano’s maze of medieval streets includes the architectural remains of a small Jewish quarter, although no Jewish community.

I wanted to visit the synagogue and taste kosher wine in what used to be called “little Jerusalem,” but I was already overwhelmed by so much richness and we chose instead to savor the magic of the town’s old rock-and-brick-patterned streets while sipping glasses of fine Bianco di Pitigliano at a cafe. A local told us that to age this wine, caves and ancient Etruscan tomb chambers have been converted into wine cellars.

I was looking forward, the next day, to meeting my friend and interpreter Elisabetta, and it took us less than two hours to drive from Saturnia down to Ansedonia on the coast, even with frequent stops.

We had booked rural accommodations in advance through the Grosseto office of the reservations service Agriturist-Toscana, sending faxes from home and receiving replies in English. We had reserved a two-bedroom functional apartment with a kitchenette on the farm-estate of Signora Grazia Cantore in Ansedonia.

Agriturist is a government effort to give small farmers a supplemental income while at the same time providing rural accommodations for visitors. Lodgings might be part of a country house where the owners farm or raise cattle, horses, pigs or poultry. It might be a residence with only a few guest rooms available. Some owners offer meals, or only breakfasts; others provide small apartments with kitchens. Prices differ according to the amenities, but generally range from $40 to $125 per day, per room.

Ansedonia, on a small rocky headland fronting the sea, is another convenient base from which to explore the Maremma. Populated by landowners’ families with old money and long regional traditions, it has an air of distinction that has attracted Romans to build vacation villas (a number of houses and residences with apartments can be rented when the owners are not occupying them). Our hosts, the Cantore family, raise deer, pigs and wild boar. Just after we arrived, they invited us to climb into a Jeep to watch the frenzied feeding of the animals. That some of them might end up on our dinner table was a fact I was unaware of at the time.

We spent the evening in nearby Capalbio, an ancient village dominated by a castle built on terraces, complete with arrow slits, guard walks and walls emblazoned with the crest of the Medicis. We dined at the Ristorante La Porta--simple, quiet and full of locals. Elisabetta ordered and we ate. First there was crostini (chicken liver pate), then acquacotta, a celery and tomato soup served on a slice of garlicky bread and topped with an egg. This was followed by pappardelle al cinghiale (pasta with a sauce of wild boar cooked in white wine, tomatoes and herbs). For dessert, a familiar tiramisu and a glass of superb Brunello di Montalcino from the Chianti vineyards. It was typical fare: robust, tasty and unique to the region.

*

Our hosts took us to the ruins of Cosa, also nearby. There is very little left of this once-flourishing Roman city, but the small museum was interesting, full of perfume bottles, terra-cotta coins, a great mock-up and rendering of the Acropolis, and an impressive head of Mater Matuta, Divine Lady of Fecundity. I kept coming back to gaze at her; she looked both powerful and tender. Behind the remains of the Temple of Jupiter, on the crest of a hill, we all stood in the wind to drink in the panorama of miles of black sand beaches and the Tagliata Tower.

It was in this tower that Giacomo Puccini composed his last opera, “Turandot.” According to legend, the artist devoted himself not only to music but to love affairs. Ah, if only those walls could talk.

The farm provided horses, and we rode through many-hued hills around the Cantore property, then drove to beautiful Monte Argentario, a promontory that was once an island but is now connected to the mainland by three narrow sandbanks that create a lagoon. In the middle of this lagoon stands the unspoiled little town of Orbetello, a mini-Venice with a charm of its own.

Here, Elisabetta ran into some friends who insisted I should sample Orbetello’s traditional cuisine: anguilla fumata, smoked eel. It was excellent as long as I didn’t focus on the idea of eating snake.

The town is surrounded by massive polygonal walls, harking back to Etruscan times and highlighted by beautiful porte (doors or gates). The lagoon is a natural wetlands, the only one of its kind in Italy, and an oasis for migratory and wading birds. And because seawater seeps through the two sand banks surrounding it, the water is never fetid or stagnant.

Elisabetta had planned our itinerary with a few days excursion to the island of Giglio. This did not allow enough time to drive north to visit the Maremma National Park, but her description of the park conjured up romantic images. The locally-famous Maremma cowboys, the butteri, are lords of this special animal kingdom, breaking semi-wild horses and branding cattle. If you are interested, park rangers will give you a chance to see them at work.

*

The park’s Uccellina Mountains are covered with the typical wild and thick evergreen vegetation of the Maremma that provides cover for nocturnal animals such as boars, foxes, wildcats and porcupines. There are ranger-led walks, ruins of towers with legendary tales, and caves to be explored. I filed the park away for our next trip, with plans to contact the park visitor center in Alberese well in advance.

To get to Giglio, we drove a short distance to the little port of Santo Stefano, where the ferries depart for the island. The boat was full of people enjoying the breeze or lost in thought as the bow cut through the jade sea. Children raced up and down the stairs, lovers gave each other full mouth kisses. Italy was on vacation!

Elisabetta shouted happily over the cacophony, “I’d love to be in Giglio for my moonlight!” Sweet friend, this visit won’t be your honeymoon, but please keep using your colorful English.

The Bar-Gelateria in Giglio became our observation post. We sipped refreshing drinks of mint and sherbet, and gazed at barely-clad olive-colored youth as they strutted along the passeggiata.

We met the family of Bruno Caponi, an artist who paints smiling fat fishes; Fercioni, one of Italy’s master tattoo artists, and his anthropologist wife, Paolo; a Roman lawyer who was always involved in political discussions between dashes around the port searching for his wandering little poodle; and Beppe, an entrepreneur who started as a boat builder and now owns several ferry companies.

During the Roman Empire, the pretty horseshoe bay of Giglio was the favorite resort of the very wealthy. And over the last 10 years, the little port has seen busy summers. We swam in secluded coves, went on boat rides, exchanged thoughts with a lot of Gigliesi. On the last night we had a delectable dinner with a number of our new friends at the restaurant Arcobalena in the fortified citadel, built in the Middle Ages to protect the vulnerable islanders from slaughter by the marauding pirates of Constantinople, now Istanbul. As we boarded the return ferry, we were moved and sad. There on the dock, we left behind Bruno, Beppe, Paolo and his dog, all came to bid us farewell.

Reflecting on Southern Tuscany, Henry James wrote: “I wouldn’t for the world not have been there.” Nor would I.

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

GUIDEBOOK

Rustic Italy

Getting there: Alitalia, Delta, TWA and US Airways have direct flights LAX-Rome; round-trip fares begin at about $850. From Rome or Pisa, frequent direct trains make the 1 1/2-two-hour trip to Grosseto or Orbetello; fares $18-$42. Auto-Europe and Avis have car rental outlets in Siena and Grosseto; tel. (800) 223-5555.

Where to stay: In Buonconvento: fattoria (farm estate) Pieve a Salti. Farm-estate with fishing lakes, horses, restaurant; tel./fax 011-39-577-807-244. Daily rate: $120 double with bath and half-board. In Saturnia: Terme di Saturnia is an elegant resort hotel with fitness classes, horseback riding; tel. 011-39-564-601-061 or (800) 525-4800, fax 011-39-564-601-266. Daily rate: $260-$325 double. In Ansedonia: Grazia, the estate of Signora Grazia Cantore, apartment with kitchen; tel./fax 011-39-564-881-182. May require one-week stay in high season; October to May, minimum two nights; $125 per night. Rural accommodations: Agriturist-Toscana, tel. 011-39-564-417-418, fax 011-39-564-421-828; Terra Nostra Toscana, tel. 011-39-564-24453, fax 011-39-564-20009.

On the Island of Giglio: Hotel Monticello; tel. 011-39-564-809-252, fax 011-39-564-809-473; $120 per double with bath. Pardini’s Hermitage Hotel; tel. 011-39-564-809-034, fax 011-39-564-809-177. Access via speedboat from ferry landing in Giglio-Porto. Rate: $170 double.

For more information: Grosseto Tourist Office, tel. 011-39-564-488-207, fax 011-39-564-28063. Italian Government Tourist Board, 12400 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 550, Los Angeles, CA 90025; tel. (310) 820-0098, fax (310) 820-6357.