Everyone says to me Maremma Maremma,but for
me it’s been a bitter Maremma.
The bird which goes there loses its feathers,
I lost a person dear to me there.
My heart always trembles when you go there,
because I’m afraid that you’ll never come back.
Cursed is Maremma Maremma, Cursed is Maremma
and he who loves it.
So sang a melancholy old folksong when malaria infested the swamps, mowing down victims among the seasonal workers who went to Maremma to reclaim the bogs and marshes. Today, after the great reclamation of land carried out by the Lorena family, as was already mentioned in the introduction, the malaria has been defeated, albeit at the cost of many human lives, and Maremma, the southernmost part of Tuscany, has been transformed into a fertile plain that seems to have been painted by the brushes of Giovanni Fattori or Telemaco Signorini, the most celebrated of the Macchiaioli, perhaps the most important Italian artistic movement of the second half of the 1800s.
Fascinated by the gentle harmony, by the warmth and at the same time the refined essence of both nature and rural life in the magical part of Tuscany, called Maremma, in order to paint it, the Machiaioli painters spent long periods in the countryside, in the “macchia” in fact, as is called the low and exquisitely perfumed bush along the coast, and from which the artistic movement took its name. Their work, which is a faithful reflection of rural life in Tuscany at the end of the 1800s, can be admired in the Gallery of Modern Art in Palazzo Pitti in Florence, which possesses a vast and very beautiful collection of Italian painting of that period.
As in their paintings, the ancient profile of the Etruscan hills blends into the plains with the warm colours of the ploughed land, with the gold of the grain and of the stubble, and the yellow of the sunflowers as far as the eye can see. In the distance graze herds of wild horses and wild cattle, similar to the African buffalo, their long horns silhouetted against the ball of fire of the sun that sinks into the sea.
Buffalo Bill must have seen it like this too, and it must have reminded him greatly of his Wild West, when, in the nineteenth century he crossed Maremma heading for Rome with his circus of Indians and cow-boys. Here he came up with the naive idea of challenging the “butteri”, the local cow-boys who still today tend the livestock in some of the oldest farms of Maremma, ...
Every year, the butteri reenact this historical challenge a few kilometres south of Grosseto, capital of the province, at the headquarters of the Maremma National Park, whose recent creation has made it possible to preserve intact a vast area of Mediterranean bush, beach, swampland, the last trace of the Maremma of once upon a time. A habitat populated by, apart from the horses and cows which roam free, an incredible wild fauna: wild boar, deer, foxes, herons, storks and many other birds native to the swamps. It’s well worth a visit, especially in May when you can enjoy the perfume of the bush in flower and the magic of the swamplands still covered by water. In June and July the waters retreat and the landscape is transformed into a sort of African savana.
Further away, on the hills, the rows of cypresses that line the roads seem to be spirits of ancient Etruscan warriors arrayed to protect their cities: Roselle, Vetulonia and, further south, Pitigliano, Sovana, and Sorano. These last were built on outcrops of tufo rock, resistent but at the same time soft enough to carve into, so that it looks like a slice of gruyere full of holes, caverns and galleries, utilised at one time by the Etruscans as tombs for the ashes of the dead, and today as henruns, stables for the animals or cellars for the excellent wine of the area named ”Bianco di Pitigliano” These three cities were joined to each other by secret roads, the so-called “vie cave” (carved roads), just wide enough for a cart to pass, cut deep into the rock, with high walls rising above them like canyons.
Not far from Pitigliano, at the foot of the hill where another Etruscan city, Saturnia, stands, a sulphur-rich spring of warm water with a temperature of 37° gushes out at about 600 litres a second.
The hot springs have been well-known and frequented since the time of the Romans, who dug a series of small pools under the small waterfall that at a few hundred metres from the spring, between the smoke and vapours with an infernal smell, create a fantastic natural open-air hydromassage.
A unique spectacle, an unforgettable experience. In winter, when the outside temperature perhaps drops below zero, you might however find it more comfortable to use the hot pools of the Hotel Terme of Saturnia, built right around the spring where the water is much wamer.
But Maremma is also and above all the sea: beautiful beaches with high dunes of white sand and marine pines, wild islands like Giglio and Montecristo, small ports like Port Ercole, Talamone, and Castiglione della Pescaia, fortified to defend themselves against the incursions of the Saracen pirates who were the scourge of the Tuscan coast right up until the end of the 1700s, plundering all that they found.
Today fortunately the only boats that arrive from the sea are those of the fishermen, who unload their fish onto the jetty amongst small crowds of curious onlookers. And sitting in the small bar of the port, intoxicated by this smell of the sea, of fish, of the colours of the sunset and by a good glass of wine, those of us who were born in this land find ourselves ever more bewitched by its charm and we forget the old song that cursed anyone who loved Maremma.