MARATEA, ITALY: Leave the cares of the world behind

Jun 28 2008 by Ben Schofield, Liverpool Daily Post

Ben Schofield goes soul searching in a converted nunnery and finds the sisterhood knew a thing or two about inner calm.

THE only thing that’s loud in La Locanda delle Donne Monache is the artwork. Its walls and alcoves are strewn with technicolour exhibits – from a clay sun and his family crammed into a speeding car, through abstract Murano glasswork and on to racy oil canvases.

But the whitewashed walls of this former nunnery will bring a hushed silence on every conversation.

It’s not that you want to be raucous and aren’t allowed. On the contrary, the 18th-century home of the Visitandine nuns, set half way up a valley side, eases on the brakes as if life outside Maratea no longer exists. In fact, it feels like the slower you walk along the hotel’s terracotta-tiled cloisters, the faster you leave your worries behind.

Maratea, on Italy’s Basilicatan coast, is a tiny, ancient town about two hours south of Naples by train. It clings to a steep-sided valley and is cut through with scooter-wide alleys.

There’s a modest square in the centre, off which run narrow streets lined with shoebox-sized shops. The convent sits anon- ymously, as it always has, among the cream walls of the town’s buildings, and, during a breathless romp up through the town, only keen-eyed trekkers would distinguish the four- star accommodation from churches or maisonettes.

But regardless of its unassuming poise, the 27-room hotel strikes the ideal balance between quiet seclusion and impeccable, personal service.

Its five suites are individually decked out and come with their own quirks. There’s the one with the bath carved into the mountain’s rock; the one with the private garden; and the one with the large terrace.

Our capacious deluxe room had a king-size bed, immaculate bathroom, reading area with Moroccan wood furniture and a private balcony – overlooked only by the 22m Cristo Redentore statue that stands immovable at the top of one of the valley’s peaks. While He kept an eye on us, we were able to peer over the rooftops of the entire town, such was the commanding view.

Crane your neck to the left and there was also a view of the hotel’s large swimming pool and sun terrace.

It was there, amid the bird song and lemon trees, that a buffet breakfast was served – leisurely – until 11am each morning: cold meats, fresh fruit, croissants, homemade cakes and the shortest, bitterest coffee I’d ever tasted. The sort of fare that sets you up perfectly for a day of poolside relaxation.

Between the balcony, sun loungers, on-site masseuse, fine dining and – above all – tranquillity, there was everything to keep us within whispering distance of the concierge.

It’s a deliberate ploy, says Vincenza Lamagna, Locanda’s effervescent manager. She’s designed the hotel with couples wanting a slow-paced hideaway in mind.

But, with a slice of Southern Italy beckoning us, the urge to explore was too much to resist.

We asked Vincenza what activities there were nearby. Changing gear, she rattled off a barrage of options – a boat trip, paragliding, bread and pasta making, scuba diving, a hike to the Cristo statue’s 644m summit. In fact, she added, the best way to experience Maratea is to hire a scooter.

Before we could claim inexperience – and sheer terror – should bar the two of us from negotiating Italian mountain traffic with just 50cc between our thighs, our mount was booked.

Tottering round on a scooter was immense fun and a great way to sample the craggy, mountains-meet- sea countryside. We rode down to Porto de Maratea, where impressive yachts bob next to fishing dinghies, and on to the slightly larger town of Castrocucco for lunch.

The bike also took us the 6km to the hotel’s private beach; more formal transport is laid on by La Locanda each morning and evening.