Molise Might Be Italy’s Most Underrated Region

Located along the Adriatic Coast in central southern Italy is the quasi-anonymous, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it region of Molise. Encircled by the regions of Lazio, Abruzzo, Puglia, and Campania, it’s about a three-hour drive from major cities like Rome and Naples. Few have ever heard of it, and even fewer have visited. 

For such a small destination, Molise packs quite the punch when it comes to geographic diversity. It has the Apennines shawled with snow, rolling green valleys, and a stretch of pristine coastline that’s home to some of Italy’s best and most underrated beaches. Its small size, while often overlooked, is also the region’s superpower. If you’re up to the challenge, you could spend the mornings in its mountains, pause for lunch in its valleys, and watch the sunset on one of its beaches, all in the same day. Aside from natural beauty, the area is also ripe with cultural and historic gems, some of which are older than the Colosseum in Rome and the Duomo in Florence. 

Yet, somehow, the region is hardly even a whisper in international travel circles. When mentioned, it conjures quizzical brows and blank looks. It lies on the fringes of most people’s consciousness, even in Italy, where the running joke “Il Molise non esiste,” or “Molise doesn’t exist,” is the closest most come to even talking about it. 

To some degree, this anonymity is understandable. Molise is the second-smallest region in Italy after the northern Aosta Valley, with a total population of under 300,000, mainly composed of the elderly. That number is quickly dwindling due to depopulation—some towns have not experienced a birth in more than a decade. In most areas, it’s more common to see vendesi (for sale) signs fluttering above rusted balconies and pasted over boarded doors than it is to see people. Public transport is generally lacking and woefully underfunded, which makes travel to, from, and within the region difficult.

Despite these pain points, Molise is arguably Italy’s last great frontier, the country’s proverbial Wild West. It’s a respite from the often crowded hot spots like Rome, Venice, and the Amalfi Coast—a return to the Italy that almost no longer exists. 

I know this because my father is from the region. Although I’m from Rome, I grew up visiting my grandparents on their small, rural farm in Molise, clambering up trees to pick blood-red cherries the size of my fist in the spring and helping my grandfather make olive oil in the fall. I’ve watched my grandmother grill ropes of sausage and racks of lamb beneath the stars over a small fire on the ratiglia (a handheld folding grill net), surrounded by wild cats and snow-white Maremmano-Abruzzese sheepdogs. 

My aunt and her family still live in the region, in the town of Poggio Sannita, and I try to visit them when I return home from the United States. My visits, as is the case in many Italian households, revolve completely around locally sourced foods. Starters are usually plates heaped with chunks of the teardrop-shaped caciocavallo cheese and thick medallions of soppressata. Then comes the first course—a bowl of the oblong-shaped cavatelli pasta soaked in a rich tomato sauce and sprinkled with a heavy serving of pecorino cheese and freshly clipped peperoncino. The meat follows next—either lamb, sausage, steak, or sometimes all three—with a simple side salad of lettuce leaves the size of my head and bone-white strips of fennel.

And last but not least, there is, of course, the digestive espressos, seasonal fruits, and pastries like ciambellone (a ring-shaped cake) and crostata (a jam tart), either purchased from a neighboring bakery or baked by my aunt, if she has the time. We eat in her home with a view of towering hills surrounding a valley peppered with hay bales that glow like molten gold in the sun. It’s a bucolic landscape that can be best explored at the rugged National Park of Abruzzo, Lazio, and Molise, one of Italy’s oldest national park.

Established in 1922, the park covers more than 300,000 acres of thick beech forests, lakes, rushing rivers, and the rounded peaks of the Apennine Mountains. It stretches across three regions and hosts some of the country’s richest biodiversity: There’s the Apennine chamois and the Apennine wolf, the golden eagle, and the critically endangered Marsican brown bear. And perhaps unexpectedly, there’s also the yellow lady’s slipper, a rare yellow-and-black orchid that only blooms between May and June. Outdoor enthusiasts can choose one of the park’s 25 towns (like Pescasseroli, where I learned how to ski as a child) as a base to explore the area and engage in year-round activities like trekking, cycling, skiing, water sports, and wildlife viewing—just to name a few.

Beach lovers can instead head to the coastal town of Termoli, a medieval fishing village with pastel-colored houses that’s encircled by ancient fortifications. Its beach, the Spiaggia di Sant’Antonio, boasts a Bandiera Blu, or Blue Flag—a coveted environmental status that signifies pristine water quality. The Spiaggia di Campomarino, which stretches for 1.55 miles just 15 minutes south of Termoli, is another Bandiera Blu beach.

For as much nature, there’s an equal amount of culture, too. The region was once home to the Samnites, an ancient Italic warrior people that fought the Romans for dominion before Rome became an empire. While they were eventually wiped out by the Romans, the remains of their civilization can still be seen throughout the region, none better than at the Samnite archaeological complex located just outside the stone town of Pietrabbondante. Here, in a valley of wildflowers more than 3,000 feet above sea level, visitors can meander through the ruins of two temples and the well-preserved remains of a half-moon amphitheater, complete with detailed statues and armrests sculpted into the shape of winged lion paws, that date back to the end of the second century B.C.E. (For reference, the Colosseum was inaugurated in 80 C.E.). Tickets cost less than $7.

The town of Agnone, located some 20 minutes from my family’s home in Poggio Sannita, has a history stretching back thousands of years. A recent finalist for Italy’s Capital of Culture for 2026 (an honor that instead went to L’Aquila in Abruzzo), the town is known for its ancient craft traditions. Visitors can tour the Marinelli Pontifical Bell Foundry, a 1,000-year-old intergenerational family business, likely one of the world’s oldest. Currently run by the 26th and 27th generation of Marinellis in a factory where light fractures into the most remarkable columns, bronze bells of all sizes are handcrafted using the same methods employed for centuries. For 5 euros, visitors can tour the factory and listen to an abridged version of the family history and the monthslong process of creating a bell by hand—and maybe even commission a personalized bell for themselves. 

Also not to be missed in Agnone is the ‘Ndocciata, widely regarded as one of the world’s oldest and largest fire rituals, which takes place every December to celebrate Christmas and the winter solstice. It’s a procession of fire in which more than 1,000 10-foot-tall handmade torches are set alight and paraded through the town. Some men even carry giant fan-like structures on their shoulders composed of up to 26 lit torches. Believed to date back to the ancient Samnites, the “modern” version of the ritual has been celebrated in earnest since the 19th century and is one of the region’s most important traditions.

While vendesi signs may plague the region’s towns, there are some historic buildings that are getting a new lease on life. Palazzo Cannavina is one of them. Built around the 17th century, it sits at the heart of Campobasso, the region’s capital. Once home to the noble Cannavina family, the property has been carefully restored over the years into a boutique hotel. In 2022, it earned the title of Molise’s best hotel in the popular Italian hotel competition television show 4 Hotel, hosted by chef Bruno Barbieri. Its seven suites are an eclectic mix of modern and historic. They feature contemporary art interspersed with original tiles, frescoes, and wooden ceilings that recall the building’s long history—in 1797, Prince Charles Emmanuel of Savoy allegedly stayed in one of the rooms with Italy’s first flag of independence. And for those seeking some R&R, there’s also a private spa, carved into an ancient vault of stone on the grounds.

There are so many other gems I haven’t mentioned, like Cvtà Street Fest, an annual dayslong international street art festival held in the medieval town of Civitacampomarano, organized to help fight against depopulation; the archaeological complex of Saepinum, a Samnite town that later became Roman, complete with an amphitheater, gladiator chambers, public baths, and more; and the unexpectedly beautiful World War II cemetery for fallen French soldiers in the town of Venafro. 

These are but a few of the treasures that await in Molise, the Wild West of my dreams. The region holds all the best parts of Italy—culture, nature, history, and food—and when I close my eyes, I am a child again, running through fields with wild sheepdogs and watching my grandparents coax the land into a rich meal. Molise does not just exist, but it resists, and it’s just waiting to be discovered.