It was probably about ten thirty in the morning when I had finally reached the other side of the ravine. Gasping for air, not from the October heat, but from my climb to the top of the hill. Yet, I beamed at my accomplishment, ignoring the older experienced hikers who had made the trek with far greater ease.

It did not matter. I was here – right where you find yourself now, dear traveller.

Another worldly wonder in its own right. It is truly a nowhere place, devoid of all sophistication and luxury. In fact, it very much resembles an open quarry, often compared with an inferno, and rightly so when there is even a hint of warmth. In Autumn, the chance of rain is slim and the steep dusty slope towards the bridge would seem almost treacherous to anyone in the wrong footwear.

Yet is it not such a surreal serene chunk of rock and turf?

Recalling is just enough for me to see myself right there with you. I could almost take you by the hand around the Sassi. And although the history would be lost on me, I could at least be there, sharing in your excitement.

Do the rocks and tufts of wild grasses and flowers not remind you of Donegal, of the bogland? It reminds me of Slieve League or Glencolmcille, if either place ever experienced a drought. Dainty little pink and white flowers, so lovely that you would not believe they could grow in such a place. Then birds of prey, falcons I think, dancing high overhead, scanning the territory for rodents.

I could marvel at the funny Flintstone-like caves all over again, endure the late morning sun baking our faces, hold my nose against the ammonia and rotting excrement in the heart of some of those caves.

Ah yes, they do not really mention that in the vlogs, do they?

Even in this paradise there is poverty, and these long-abandoned homes are not quite abandoned yet.

Though the best thing about this place is not what you might think; not the distinctive layers of houses and churches, like historic milestones in the town’s life, not the abundant history or culture nor the wildlife, but the silence.

Yes, dear traveller, like me you must have thought about that too!

You had planned out your trip well and came off-season when even in a place once scoffed at for being hellish, you might hear a voice from heaven.

And though this is my last day here, and tomorrow I will be back at work – business as usual, I know that simply the memory of standing at this exact spot with you, just before the peak hour, will be enough to heal the heartbreak of leaving.

And before I go, dear traveller, there is one thing I would ask you to do with me – greet the other side of the ravine.

Yes, you have read this correctly – if you are here in Matera now, or will soon be there with me again, it is highly recommended that you break the morning silence with a proper greeting.

Go ahead! We will do it together. So, when I count to three, we are going to say either “Hello!” of “Woooh!” then await an answer from the other side.

Okay, ready?

One, two, three!