The Bottom Line Up Front: Matera is the greatest comeback story in Italian history. In the 1950s, it was declared the “Shame of Italy”—a Dante-esque hellscape where peasants lived in caves with their livestock, ravaged by malaria and poverty. The government forcefully evacuated the entire city, leaving it a ghost town for decades. Today, those same caves are 5-star hotels, and Matera is a UNESCO World Heritage site. Visiting Matera isn’t just about pretty views; it is about witnessing the astonishing resilience of a city that refused to die.
In my 15 years planning Italian itineraries at krbooking.com, I have never seen a destination explode in popularity quite like Matera. Ten years ago, clients would ask “Matera where?” Now, it is the request I get most often after the Amalfi Coast. But walking through the polished stone streets today, it is hard to imagine that my own parents’ generation considered this place a national embarrassment. You need to look past the boutique hotels to see the scars.
To understand Matera, you have to peel back the layer of modern luxury. The city consists of the *Sassi* (Stones)—two districts, Sasso Caveoso and Sasso Barisano, carved directly into the soft calcareous rock of a massive ravine. People have lived here since the Paleolithic era. It is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world, alongside Jericho and Aleppo. But by the mid-20th century, this ancient history had turned into a modern nightmare.
In the 1940s and 50s, Southern Italy was suffering deeply, but Matera was in a league of its own. The writer Carlo Levi was exiled to the nearby region of Basilicata by the Fascist government. In his famous memoir, Christ Stopped at Eboli, he described Matera not as a city, but as a tragic schoolbook on poverty. He wrote about children with swollen bellies from malaria and dysentery, with flies crawling on their eyes. He described families of ten living in a single cave room, sleeping alongside their donkeys, pigs, and chickens to share body warmth in the winter.
There was no electricity. There was no running water. The sewage system was essentially the street outside the cave door. The infant mortality rate was shocking—some estimates suggest nearly 50% of children didn’t make it to adulthood. It was a medieval existence in the middle of modern Europe. When the politician Palmiro Togliatti visited in 1948, he famously labeled the Sassi the “Vergogna d’Italia” (The Shame of Italy). It became a political imperative to fix it.
In 1952, the Italian government passed a special law mandated by Prime Minister Alcide De Gasperi. It wasn’t a renovation plan; it was an evacuation order. About 15,000 people were forcefully removed from their ancestral homes. The state built new, modern apartment blocks (the “Piano neighborhoods”) on the plateau above the caves. For the first time, these farmers had windows, running water, and toilets. They were happy to leave the squalor, but they were also heartbroken to lose the tight-knit community (the *vicinato*) that defined cave life. For the next 30 years, the Sassi sat empty—a silent, crumbling ghost town inhabited only by stray dogs and drug addicts. It was a dead zone that nobody wanted to talk about.
When I visit today with clients, I take them to the “Casa Grotta” museum. It recreates the living conditions of the 1950s. Seeing the bed next to the mule trough usually silences the room. It is a stark reminder that the “romantic” cave hotel they are sleeping in tonight was, within living memory, a place of desperate survival.
So, how did a malaria-infested ghost town become the face of luxury travel in 2025? The turnaround began in the late 1980s and was driven by a mix of counter-culture students, filmmakers, and preservationists who saw value where the government saw only shame.
After the evacuation, the Sassi were legally state property, but they were abandoned. In the 70s and 80s, groups of young people—artists, hippies, and squatters—began to move back into the empty caves. They saw the architectural genius of the place. The Sassi wasn’t just a slum; it was a masterpiece of bio-architecture. The caves were designed to maintain a constant temperature (cool in summer, warm in winter). The cistern system used to collect rainwater was an engineering marvel. These new inhabitants began to lobby the government to save the city rather than bulldoze it.
The turning point came in 1993, when UNESCO declared the Sassi di Matera a World Heritage Site. This was the validation the city needed. It wasn’t a “shame” anymore; it was “heritage.” This opened the floodgates for funding. The government began offering 99-year leases to anyone willing to pay for the expensive renovations required to make the caves habitable again. Architects flocked to the city, figuring out how to install WiFi and sewage pipes into solid rock without destroying the aesthetics.
Then came Hollywood. Matera looks like Jerusalem 2,000 years ago—more like Jerusalem than Jerusalem does today. In 2004, Mel Gibson chose Matera to film The Passion of the Christ. The movie was a global sensation, and the backdrop was unmistakably Matera. Suddenly, the world saw this stone city on the big screen. Later, James Bond raced an Aston Martin through the piazza in No Time to Die. The cinematic appeal put Matera on the bucket list of millions.
The climax of this resurrection was 2019, when Matera served as the European Capital of Culture. The city received massive investment for infrastructure, museums, and events. I remember being there for the opening ceremony—the pride in the eyes of the locals was overwhelming. The older generation, who had been shamed for being “cave dwellers” (troglodytes) in their youth, were now watching the world’s elite pay €500 a night to sleep in those same caves. The narrative had completely flipped. The badge of shame became a badge of honor.
However, no resurrection is without its cost. The rapid transformation of Matera has brought wealth, but it has also brought a fierce debate about gentrification and authenticity. As a travel consultant, I have to be honest with my clients: the Sassi today is largely a tourist zone, not a residential one.
When the government encouraged renovation, it wasn’t the original inhabitants—the poor farmers—who moved back in. They couldn’t afford the massive restoration costs. Instead, it was investors, hotel groups, and wealthy foreigners. Today, walking through the Sasso Barisano, almost every door is a B&B, a souvenir shop, or a high-end restaurant. The “Vicinato”—the communal neighborhood life where women chopped vegetables together in the courtyard—is gone, replaced by tourists sipping Aperol Spritz.
There is a bitter irony here. The people who suffered in the caves were kicked out to the suburbs. Now that the caves are valuable, they still live in the suburbs, coming into the Sassi only to work as waiters or maids in the hotels that occupy their grandparents’ homes. Some locals call it the “Disneyfication” of Matera. They worry the city is becoming a hollow shell, a museum backdrop rather than a living, breathing town.
Yet, without tourism, Matera would likely still be a ruin. The money brought in by visitors has saved the physical structure of the city from collapsing into the ravine. It has provided jobs for young people who previously had to emigrate to the North to find work. The University of Basilicata has established a campus there, injecting some youthful energy that isn’t just transient tourism.
When you visit, it is crucial to understand this tension. I encourage clients at krbooking.com to venture up to the “Piano” (the flat, newer part of town above the Sassi). That is where the real Materans live. Go to the market there. Eat at the pizzeria where there is no English menu. By doing this, you acknowledge the living city, not just the historic stage set. Matera’s soul is still there, but you have to look harder to find it amongst the luxury suites. It is a city that has survived millennia; it will likely survive tourism too, but it will change in the process.
In the post-war era of the 1940s and 50s, Matera became the symbol of Southern Italy’s backwardness. While the North was industrializing (Fiat, Olivetti), Matera was living in the Stone Age. The “Sassi” (cave districts) were overcrowded and unsanitary.
The primary reasons for the “Shame” label were infant mortality and living conditions. Malaria was rampant. Families lived in single-room caves with no ventilation, sharing the space with mules and chickens. There was no sewage system. The poverty was so extreme that when Prime Minister Alcide De Gasperi visited, he was reportedly moved to tears. The label stuck after Palmiro Togliatti called it a “national shame,” leading to the special law in 1952 that forced the evacuation of the Sassi.
Yes, but the demographic has completely changed. After the Sassi were evacuated in the 1950s, they stood empty for decades. In the 1990s, the government allowed people to return, but strict conservation laws meant that renovations were incredibly expensive.
Today, the “caves” are modern dwellings with electricity, internet, and heated floors. Most of the Sassi district is occupied by boutique hotels, B&Bs, restaurants, and artisan shops. While there are some private residents (mostly architects, artists, or wealthy individuals), the original peasant population did not return. They remain in the modern apartments on the outskirts of the city. So, while the caves are inhabited, they function more as a hospitality zone than a traditional neighborhood.
Without a doubt. In my professional opinion, it is one of the most visually stunning cities on Earth. There is nothing else like it in Europe. The visual impact of seeing thousands of caves stacked on top of one another, clinging to the edge of a ravine, is breathtaking.
Beyond the views, the history is palpable. Visiting the Rupestrian Churches (rock churches) with their faded Byzantine frescoes is a spiritual experience. The food is incredible (try the Peperone Crusco—dried crunchy peppers). It is a UNESCO World Heritage site and was the 2019 European Capital of Culture. It offers a depth of history that makes even Rome feel young. However, be prepared for crowds, as its secret is definitely out.
Many tourists make the mistake of visiting Matera as a day trip from Puglia. This is a disservice to the city. I strongly recommend spending at least two nights.
The magic of Matera happens at night and in the early morning. During the day, the white stone reflects the sun and it can be blindingly bright and hot, and the streets are packed with tour groups. At sunset, the city lights up like a nativity scene (*Presepe*), and the atmosphere is silent and mystical. You need one full day to explore the Sassi (Caveoso and Barisano), visit the museums, and wander. You need another half-day to hike across the ravine to the Murgia park to see the city from the other side. A rushed visit misses the haunting atmosphere that defines the place.
This is a critical question. Unfortunately, Matera is not very accessible. The ancient city is a vertical maze. The streets are often staircases carved into rock. The pavement is uneven, slippery stone (“chianche”).
There are very few roads in the Sassi where cars can drive. If you have mobility issues, you can stay in the upper town (The Piano) which is flat and offers great views looking down into the Sassi. There are also “Ape Calessino” (Tuk-Tuk) tours that can navigate some of the main roads. However, truly exploring the winding alleys and visiting the cave churches requires a good level of fitness and the ability to climb many steps. I always tell my clients: leave the high heels at home and bring high-grip sneakers.
Matera is complex. Booking the right cave hotel (one that isn’t damp) and navigating the ZTL (traffic zones) can be stressful. Don’t let logistics ruin the “City of Stones.”
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