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Tuscany the land of yearning:
since centuries the former European cultural center holds its many
visitors spellbound. Most tourists however, visit only the famous
and much traveled region between Florence and Sienna. We on the
other hand traveled into a vastly unknown, wild and remote Tuscan
region: the Maremma.
"Maremma
maiala" damn Maremma - curses the Butteri riding in front of me,
as the white long-horned cows once again attempt to fleedown the
hill. The two Butteri, Tuscany’s very own version of the cowboy,
chase the renegades and bring the herd under control once again.
Real cowboys in Europe? In Maremma
Tuscany, a traditional horse country this is still a daily reality.
We are on the huge Filetto farm where in a project sponsored by the
Italian agricultural ministry Maremma cattle is bread on a large
scale. As breeding, this many hundred years old species of cattle,
is not economically viable in times of agricultural mass production,
the government has invested in the preservation of this tradition.
Glued deeply into their heavy working
saddles the Butteri gallop all around our group. Apparently not only
to control the herd of cattle but quite evidently, in another
age-old tradition, to impress the blond girls riding just ahead of
me. Being forewarned by our guide Marco, to always keep an eye on
the potentially aggressive Maremma cattle I have eyes only for the
long and very pointed horns.
Marco is urging us to get moving this
morning. Yesterday we all learnt what it means to spend five hours
in the saddle riding through the Alta Maremma, low-hanging branches,
dense brush of petty whin and juniper . Today we are prepared:
sunscreen on our noses, long-sleeved shirts to protect against the
blackberry brambles, comfortable hiking boots and chaps instead of
polished riding boots.
Huge centuries old chestnut, oak and
pine trees verge our path. Nature has recuperated the ancient paths
once the only connection between the very few villages in the area.
A large fallen tree forces us to plunge into the dense and thorny
bush which flanks the path. Suddenly the bush opens up to a clearing
covered with red poppies. After several hours in the dense bush it
is a great feeling to be out in the open once again. The horses
shaking their manes are obviously just as happy to leave the
restrictive bush, immediately galloping to the far side of this red
ocean.
 The
dense chestnut forest recedes and the landscape changes almost
imperceptibly at first to low scrubs, heather, overgrown fields and
old orchards. After riding for hours through a vast, apparently
deserted area it is only at midday that we encounter the first signs
of past settlement. The ruins of an old farmhouse, a mighty oak tree
grows out of the former kitchen and a few piglets run around the old
courtyard. Further along the way a shepherd crosses our path with
his herd of sheep, the fact that we are riding through this area on
horses for the pure pleasure of it has him shaking his head in
amazement. Really just for the fun? The traditional use of the horse
for labour is deeply rooted in this area. He tells us of the old
times as most people in this area still earned their living in one
or the other of the many mines. Since the Etruscans silver, copper
and zinc had been mined in the area. In the past decades more and
more mines where closed, large proportions of the population were
forced to move away. The numerous deserted farms and villages are a
silent witness to better times. Listening to the shepherd is stories
- transplanted into a former time - we rode on in a slightly more
pensive mood.
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