Undiscovered Europe: Hiding away in Cilento, the secret corner of southern Italy

By CHRIS ANDERSON

Idyllic: Cilento is packed with small towns and villages, such as Santa Maria di Castellabate


We're such a blase, well-travelled bunch these days that most of us have long given up on Europe's ability to surprise us. The truth is, though, that there are pockets of even our most tourist-trampled neighbours - France, Spain, Italy - that remain thoroughly and unexpectedly pristine. And quite delightful.

Take Cilento. Never heard of it? Neither had I. But now I've experienced it, I shall definitely be going back there - again and again.

To explain, Cilento is a protected Italian region - much of it a national park and Unesco world heritage site, no less - that sits not far south of the teeming holiday centres of Naples and the jet-setting Amalfi coast. Its interior is all sun-baked hilltop villages and majestically undulating, tree-clad mountains - harbouring, it is said, eagles and wolves. Its coast is of the crazily twisting Mediterranean variety, adorned by riotous bougainvillea and dreamy little resorts.

It is all wonderfully authentic - but with just the right amount of visitor-friendly infrastructure - and uniquely enchanting.

We went, my wife and I, for a week. Our first base was Le Favate, a stately farmstead hidden within the green folds of interweaving valleys that roll back from the blue Mediterranean. It's part of the agriturismo chain, a nationwide affiliation of rural estates that also provide impressively upscale hotel accommodation; its buildings - stylish, spacious and chunky - date from the very early 17th Century and are as natural to the ancient terrain as the surrounding olive groves.

The views to the haze-shrouded coast are bewitching. It's an almost hypnotically peaceful spot. The high sun, ablaze even in May, holds the place in a kind of trance; the nights are silent, inky black. You sleep like a child.

The place is popular with walkers - a rather earnest lot, we found - who spend their days criss-crossing the hot green slopes and their evenings sitting outside their apartments obsessively cleaning their expensive-looking boots. That wasn't really our thing, so we got in the car and explored.

Although these days Cilento might not be the name on everyone's lips down at your local travel agent, the ancient Greeks and Romans were quicker on the uptake than us: both civilisations fell headlong for the region's charms and left their traces everywhere.

Down near Ascea are the remains of Velia, an astonishing, mazy ancient metropolis dating back to 535 BC, stretching over a few acres and up a hill; just a couple of euros to get in, no one telling you what and what not to do, and no crowds. If it were anywhere else, it would be thronged with T-shirt sellers and probably have its own airport.

Actually, Pompeii itself is within comfortable striking distance of Cilento. But leave that for another day and go to Paestum instead (it's to the north of the region). This is the Pompeii for the cognoscenti - much less overrun, just as striking. Huge, wonderfully preserved temples - a whole high street of them - rise magically into the sky, changing colour in the afternoon sun.

Then it's back to Le Favate, perhaps stopping for a Peroni in one of the villages nearby, watched by an inscrutable benchful of leathery pensioners and with the obligatory dog asleep in the road.

Part of the charm of driving around here is wondering exactly when a farmer, still aglow from lunch, will come swinging round one of the blind corners in his one-seater Piaggio truck and into your hire car. We nearly came to grief on a number of occasions. But, thanks to our cat-like reflexes, we survived.


Rome was here: The ruined city of Paestum is Pompeii without the crowds


At the hotel there's a pool and more of that fabulous, tranquillising stillness, and pretty soon it's time for an aperitif; on the terrace in the dying sun, watching the lizards scuttle in and out of the masonry, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world.

And then dinner. It's a set menu every evening, devised and prepared single-handedly by Le Favate's cheerful cook, and it's the real deal: authentic, gutsy, faultlessly executed, richly satisfying. The olive oils and the wines come from the hotel's own estate - in fact, from the dining room you look out on to the very trees that the olives are harvested from. Stupendous.

A few days of this and we were blissfully rested and refreshed - and ready for a bit more action. So we headed for the seaside.

Our home now was to be San Marco di Castellabate, one of a number of unassumingly pretty resorts along the Cilento coast. We stayed at La Corallina, a gracious, pink-hued building right on the seafront, and clinching evidence that the days of those grubby, lizard-in-the-bidet Mediterranean hotels of our youth are over for good. La Corallina was a simultaneously unpretentious and swish place, excellently appointed, confidently purveying all the comforts of international travel from supercool air-conditioning to jugs of kiwi-fruit juice on the breakfast buffet spread.

San Marco manages to be different things at different times: a true-tolife fishing village in the mornings, an agreeably drowsy sun-trap in the hot afternoons. Then after nightfall you'll find just enough funk at its handful of bars and restaurants to keep the evenings interesting.

There's a pleasant walk, too, along low cliffs and a wide sandy beach all the way to its larger neighbour, Santa Maria di Castellabate. Here you will find more restaurants - some of them excellent - and intriguing shops.

One overcast morning we drove inland for the steep, steep mile or two that links these friendly little resorts to indomitable Castellabate itself, the fortified medieval town atop an ascent that seems to stretch halfway to the clouds.

We had planned only to stop for coffee. We ended up spending hours getting happily lost in a labyrinth of rising, looping alleyways, hidden recesses, and teasing dead-ends. It's a tremendous place: splendidly preserved, full of secrets.

A number of things struck us, all of them joyous. First off, we could not only park, but we could park easily and safely and for nothing. And although the town was very clearly and justifiably aware of its history and its magnificence, it remained a working community rather than a touristic treadmill.

Best of all, there was a cherishable absence of trippy dross - the trinket shops, the living statues, the useless pavement artists drawing the same useless likenesses of Michael Jackson.

We really should see and celebrate these places - Castellabate, Le Favate, the whole of Cilento - while stocks last.
Yes, Cilento's great - but how to get there? Well, by air into Naples, obviously, which was how my wife travelled. But if at all possible, try doing what I did - and go by train. Of course it's a long way, and of course you need the extra time.

But it's all great adventurous fun, an unparalleled way of really getting under the skin of our own continent, and a clever way of having what amounts to two holidays for not that much more than the price of one.

It was made possible for me by an InterRail Global Pass. The one I got - there are various types, catering to different requirements - allowed me unlimited travel on ten days (of my choosing) within a period of 22.

You get official-looking documents and maps, not to mention a rather smug and altogether enjoyable feeling of freedom. Actually the only problem with the scheme is that you have to decide where not to go.

InterRail encompasses 30 countries. A glance at the map reveals routes stretching from Portugal in the west to Norway or Finland in the north, and then all the way east through Serbia, Bulgaria or Turkey. In fact, you can go right up to the Iranian border. And on top of that there are the ferries chugging around the various european seas - there are a surprising number of them - and these are often included in the deal.

I should mention that attached to the pass is a quite complicated set of conditions and surcharges, and you really do have to do your homework properly before taking the plunge.

Phew. But I had to go down to Naples, so my outward route was relatively straightforward - Paris (on the excellent Eurostar), Lyons, Milan, Naples. I did it over five days.


Leisurely: The pace of life is unhurried in the villages of Cilento


And because part of the joy of the idea, at least for me, was the room it left for spontaneity and improvisation, I made unplanned overnight stops at Brig up in the Alps, and then beautiful Stresa overlooking Lake Maggiore.

The trains were clean and fast and as punctual as the devil. I was lucky enough to go first-class - the Swiss compartments being as rarefied and antiseptic as a Harley Street waiting room - but the second-class accommodation is perfectly comfortable too, even long-haul. And nothing - really, nothing - prepares you for the miraculous beauty of your journey through and around the Swiss mountains and lakes.

On the way back, I mixed things up by stopping at Milan and Geneva. Two unforgettable cities - particularly Milan, which the very night I was there celebrated its success in the Champions League in as berserk a fashion as possible.

I ended up drinking toast after toast in a backstreet restaurant with a man who happened to be the poker champion of northern Italy.

How lucky I was to be at the party, I thought - rather than flying, crabby and bored, six miles above it.


Travel Facts

Sunvil Discovery (020 8758 4722, www.sunvil.co.uk) offers a week's holiday in Cilento from £591. This includes return British Airways flights from Gatwick to Naples, three nights' B&B at Le Favate, four nights' B&B at La Corallina and seven days' car hire.

An InterRail Global Pass costs from £324 for adults, £216 for youths, £291 for seniors and £162 for children. It entitles you to ten days of rail travel in a 22-day period. Call Rail Europe on 0844 848 4070 or visit www.raileurope.co.uk.


source :dailymail