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Leaving Lecce

When we last spoke, I was sharing our love for Lecce. The “Florence of the South”, located in Italy’s Puglia region. And in common with all our travels, when we fall in love, we move on. Who knows what the open road will offer up to us? Over the crest of the hill. Around the next corner. The anticipation pulls us forward, exploring the world, one town at a time. Today, with our bags slung in the back of the Fiat 500, we were headed to Gallipoli. Right now, just a name on a map, (to me, Mrs C had done extensive research), but soon to be another destination that grabs a piece of our heart.

A better grasp of Italian wine than the language

With the sea in sight, and less than 10 minutes outside of Gallipoli we had a planned stop. We were in Italy. How could we visit and not taste some of the wine that the region is famous for? You know the answer to that one. We simply couldn’t, and we found ourselves driving down a dusty road, turning right through imposing gates, signalling the home of Cantina Coppola 1489. Whether they are related to the very famous Francis Ford Coppola we will never know. Duolingo can only take you so far. It is little help when talking to a local.

Thankfully, when it comes to wine tasting, this was not our first rodeo. And, with the wonders of the internet, we had pre-booked the tasting that we wanted. What also helped was the fact that the place was deserted, so the English speaking tourists, with only a rudimentary grasp of the Italian language must be the ones these two wine glasses were laid out for.

Cantina Coppola 1489 – A bit of Apulian history

Cantina Coppola has been in the family since 1489 and has been passed down through 15 generations. The vineyard and cellar door that you see today was built in 2004, built as a “cellar door with a village around it”. The cellar door has a small museum attached and we were fascinated to see the family tree painted on a large canvas, tracing the lineage of the various family members over the long and storied history of Cantina Coppola. We left that day better understanding the role that wine has played, and continues to play, in Italy over a vast stretch of time.

Gallipoli

Our instruction from the bed and breakfast host was to head into the large paid parking lot, and take your chances. We had seen people in these car parks driving around in interminable circles trying to find a free slot. As with our arrival in Monopoli a few days earlier, the car park gods must have been smiling down on us. Driving in the general direction of the paid car park, we slowly approached a car park that was completely free. Twenty four hours a day. And would you believe it, at that very moment, a car reversed out ahead of us, leaving Victoria to simply swing the car in. We gave each other a slight look of disbelief. Did we manifest it?

It is all Greek to me

Gallipoli is a very small town, located on a limestone island and connected to the mainland by a narrow bridge dating from the 16th century. Believe me when I tell you that Gallipoli is beautiful. Located on the west coast of Salento, the sunsets over the Ionian sea are stunning. If it looks a little Greek you won’t be surprised to learn that it was once a town in Greater Greece, and in 265BC it suffered defeat in a war with the Romans, leaving Gallipoli to be relegated as a Roman colony.

Accommodation in Gallipoli

It was in this old Roman colony that we were staying. And our accommodation was a gem. A short walk from the car park (did I mention it was free?), and we were at Cortepatitari B&B. As beautiful as these bed and breakfast places are, they are old. Which means they weren’t built for travellers in mind. Unsurprisingly, our bedroom was up three flights of stairs. With no elevator. Gasping in the heat, on reaching the third floor we were met with a beautiful room and immediately I breathed a sigh of relief. The air conditioning was strong. The heat in Puglia continued to be oppressive.

The room was very compact, as most of them are, and maintained beautifully. Seeing us with our purchases from Cantina Coppola the host called back up to our room, dropping off a corkscrew and two wine glasses. Giving us a smile. Priorities are important in Italy. Exploring the accommodation we discovered that breakfast would be served on the rooftop. Each morning we would start with a leisurely Italian breakfast and listen as the local fruit and veg man plied his wares.

Find me a better pasta dish

The way to combat the Southern Italian heat is obviously a cold drink. Am I right? Not long after leaving our bags at the B&B we strolled through Gallipoli. Being only a small place this didn’t take us long. Ergo, it didn’t take us long to find that cold drink. What is an acceptable time to have an Aperol Spritz? I am just asking for a friend.

Whilst waiting for my second Spritz to arrive, my lunch was served. Not sure what to order, having had a lot of the orecchiette that the region is famous for, I chose a dish that I had never heard of before. This is not an uncommon approach of mine. But, this decision rarely pays off quite as spectacular as that day.

The description just does not do it justice. It was a pasta dish. With a rich cheese sauce. But not too much sauce, of course, this being Italy. And in the dish were large, plump, fresh from the sea, mussels. Mamma mia! Some moments, if life were to end at that very second, you know that you will leave this mortal coil happy. That was one such moment. If you find yourself in Gallipoli, head to Buena Vista and order their scrigini cacio e pepe con cozze. Thank me later. 

Beach Days in Gallipoli

Our days in Gallipoli included time at the beach. Our travel schedule had us moving around quite frequently, so we loved the opportunity to stick a parasol in the sand, throw down our towels, and join the holidaying Italian masses on a beach day. Italians do beach days well. Often making a whole day of it. And with all the family. There is an energy and a buzz that you don’t see on many beaches in other countries. As I was laid there, something kept catching my attention, in the corner of my eye. What was that moving up and down against the sea wall?

It turns out that it was a delivery system. With people on the beach, at the foot of the very high wall, shouting up to a drinks and gelato vendor on the street above. Once the order had been shouted up, the vendor would lower a bucket attached to a long rope, to the waiting customer on the beach. The thirsty beach goer would put money in the bucket and it would make its return journey up the wall. Ingenious.

The Sunset in Gallipoli

Also ingenious, is the way that the bars of Gallipoli utilise the walls around the small town. Facing west, each evening gives you one of nature’s most amazing shows. Unrestricted views of one of the best sunsets you are ever to see. Grab yourself an aperitivo, and wait. Our first evening saw us at Cafe del Mar, Aperol Spritz in hand, nibbling local olives, and enjoying the “show”. It was a very popular way to spend the evening, and being one of the towns that is very popular with Italian tourists, Gallipoli was busy.

The Unglamourous Side of Travel

Travel is not all about beach days and Aperol Spritz. If only. Travelling for any length of time, and relatively light, we have to incorporate one of our favourite days. Laundry day. For those that followed our travels around the world, you will know how much fun we have carting our dirty smalls high and low trying to find a laundrette. Then, trying to find enough actual cash to feed the machines. And then, trying to decipher in the local language how to use the hulking machines. When we finally do, it is a thumbs up all around.

With clean clothes once again we had a final night in Gallipoli. We were back on the road tomorrow, heading out of Puglia to a very special place. One that I had seen many times on TV and was very much looking foward to exploring. BUt, that is for tomorrow. For tonight, we would be a lot closer. We headed across the small bridge, into the new town. I had my eyes on a pizza joint.

Grateful for Gallipoli

A very popular pizza joint it turns out. As someone who is normally in bed for 9pm, sitting down at the table at 9.30pm felt very strange. It was worth it. The pizza was delicious. Sat on the open rooftop of the bustling restaurant we raised our beers and spoke our gratitude for another amazing day on this wonderful planet. Not even a power cut could dampen our spirits. For what seemed an eternity, but was probably only 15 minutes or so, the restaurant lost all power. People resorted to eating by the lights of their mobile phones. We thought it all very romantic. Not the phones, but eating under nothing but the stars.

With the power back on, and thinking the restaurant would be wanting to close, what with it being so late, we didn’t hang around when paying our bill. Imagine my surprise when leaving, seeing a massive queue of people waiting to still enter the restaurant. This is bed time people, what are you doing? We strolled back across the bridge, to the old town, and I closed out another day with my usual whisky nightcap.

Gallipoli had been wonderful, somwehere we would definitly return to. Once we have been everywhere else in the world.

Ciao!

The Bel Paese

Leaving Ostuni, we reflected on how different this part of Italy was from what we have travelled through in the North. The land is drier. The coastline is more dramatic. The air smells cleaner. A different Italy. Yet, still the bel paese. The beautiful country. An Italy we love as much as we love the rest of the country. These reflections brought a smile to my face. A smile that only a vacation in Italy can bring. A smile that I taste in the local food. In the wine of the region. And in the people we see as we travel throughout the South.

Florence of the South

Still smiling, we drove to a place we had seen called the “Florence of the South”. Quite the moniker. Would it live up to its billing? Spoiler alert. It did. And then some. Having visited, I wonder if it should be the other way around. That Florence is the “Lecce of the North”. Lecce was a revelation. Such a stunning city. If you haven’t visited, start making your 2025 holiday plans. 

Our Lecce plans would start at our accommodation, which was a typical Italian bed and breakfast in the city centre. What is a “typical” bed and breakfast in an Italian city? You walk down a residential side street, cars haphazardly parked, at least I think they are parked, on either side of the street. A street full of dated apartment buildings. The usual cafes and bars, with groups of men sat around drinking espresso. You arrive at a nondescript large door, with a number of brass calling buttons. 

This is where we are staying? On our holiday! I used to doubt myself when arriving at such places. Are we at the wrong address? It doesn’t look like there would be any bed and breakfast here. In this building? Often, even getting through the big door, I am still unsure. Nothing suggests that after going up three floors in an old rickety elevator, and entering the door that is subtly advertised with the name of the bed and breakfast, a beautiful space opens up. 

More on that elevator. This particular one looked so old, that Victoria refused to get in with me. Oh yes, she was happy that I got in, and risked my life. With the bags. I could hardly close the old doors. It was a tight squeeze. There was a lot of rattling. Victoria turned and left me struggling. She would see me, hopefully, in a few minutes once she dashed up the stairs.

Duolingo and a bit of sign language

We both made it. And entering the apartment that obtained the bed and breakfast, we did indeed see a beautiful space. The space being a large room dominated by a perfectly laid out dining table. I knew where breakfast would be in the morning. We were met by a very friendly host. A host that spoke very little English. My Duolingo practice only got us so far. Smiles and body language got us the rest of the way. With our Fiat 500 safely tucked away in the underground garage for a couple of days, it was time to head out and explore Lecce.

Exploring the baroque architecture of Puglia

And where better to start than the old town, a 10 minute stroll from our accommodation. Entering via one of the four very imposing Roman gates that circle the city. Ambling through Porta Rudiae, we had discovered, as we had very early in this Puglia adventure, not much happens in the middle of the day in these parts. And Lecce, despite being a major city, was no exception. At times it felt like we had the city to ourselves. Turning a quiet corner we found ourselves awestruck. Stood staring at the ornate, and very beautiful Basilica di Santa Croce. This, my friends, is why Lecce often gets compared to Florence. Buildings of such beauty. There are some of the finest examples of Baroque architecture that you will find in the whole of Italy.

The Piazza del Duomo is breathtaking. We have seen a lot of piazzas. And not just on this trip. The one in Lecce is stunning. We also have the Roman Amphitheatre. Then, the Roman Theatre. Yes, Lecce has both, and I was also confused about the difference. Simple explanation is that a theatre has a one sided view of the stage, and an amphitheatre has all round views of the stage. Both are worth checking out and it is stunning to think that the amphitheatre was hidden, and not known about until the early 1900s as workers were excavating for a new Bank of Italy building.

Museo Faggiano

A very similar story can be found not too far away. At the Museo Faggiano. In 2001, Luciano Faggiano was undertaking some work to fix a broken sewer pipe. In preparation for his planned trattoria on the site. Through this work, and over several years, he ended up with a museum, not a restaurant. It turns out that his property was a Templar home from 1000 to 1200. And, up to 1600 it was a Convent of Franciscan Nuns. The excavation work brought to light tombs, cisterns, a well, templar frescos, an ossuary, underground escape ways, more than 5000 archaeological finds and other incredible things. A wonderful place to explore for the paltry cost of 5 euros.

Cooling down in Lecce

Exploring done for a while, we needed to sit down. And have a cold drink. Not as easy as it sounds when everything closes between the hours of 2pm and 7pm. We did find a cafe open, and the customer service suggested that having a monopoly on the afternoon trade was something that he took for granted. Sipping up swiftly we decided it was time for our siesta.

But, not before fulfilling a tradition I started many years ago, in a country I can no longer remember. With a final check of Google Maps, I discovered that where I needed to be was actually on the walk back to the B&B.

Mission accomplished…

The evenings in Lecce might just be perfect. The temperature is a lot more comfortable than the searing daytime heat. The numerous baroque buildings are lit up. And all the bars and restaurants have opened. There are more people. Lecce now feels busy. The streets actually look different.

“Didn’t we walk down here today?”

“Yeah, and every building looked empty.”

“Where did these dozens of restaurants appear from?”

Apparently, we weren’t the only people having a siesta this afternoon. Now, we were spoiled for choice on where to have our apertivo. And our biggest problem would be to narrow down the dozens and dozens of restaurants to just the one we were going to eat at tonight. Taking a chance on a place that looked quiet, but had the all important local dish, Orecchiette con cime di rapa, we took a seat. As we raised our wine glasses, chilled Pugliese local wine from the cute little carafe on the table, we said a hearty “salut”, and shared the three things that we were grateful for that day.

Reflections of Lecce

And as I tucked into my pasta dish of broccoli tops and breadcrumbs, I reflected that we had a lot to be grateful for. Lecce had been a revelation. Another highlight to add to our growing list of places in Puglia that we would definitely like to return to. We still had another day to explore Lecce, and a night to try dinner somewhere new, and I knew that it was another place that I would be sad to leave.

We will miss the Florence of the South.

Moving on from Monopoli

Our first taste of Puglia had been magnificent Monopoli. And leaving was hard. Part of my travel strategy has always been to leave a place before you really want to. Before you get complacent and feel like you are ready to leave. It was also some of the best career advice I received, many many years ago. “Leave a party whilst you are enjoying it the most”. This way, you will always hold on to those magical moments, and perhaps long for a return.

OK, maybe not to an old job, but definitely to places you visit. We had spent two days in Monopoli, wandering the old historic centre, soaking up the slow life of Southern Italy. Even at a distance of several weeks, we certainly want to return.

Driving in Puglia comes at a cost

But life moves on, and so do we. After a visit to Alberobello, we made our way to Ostuni. Victoria in the driving seat, me navigating, we were soon parked up in a large dusty car park on the edge of the city. Having a car to explore Puglia is essential. And it comes with a price. Quite literally. Two nights parked in this dusty field, with no security cost us 30 euros. Crikey, almost $60 to park in a field.

Mumbling about the cost, and dragging our cases over very uneven streets and cobbled pavements, my mood didn’t improve when I saw the steep hills we had to climb to our accommodation. Following the video we had been sent by the bed and breakfast host (which seems to be a thing in Italy), I was soon sweating in the mid-day Italian heat, desperate for an Aperol Spritz.

Checking into our accommodation my mood immediately picked up. Our bed and breakfast was cut into the rock face, meaning that the exposed brick walls perfectly insulated us from the oppresive heat. With a large, very comfortable double bed, modern shower, a fridge, and a kettle for me to brew my morning coffee, all was good in the world.

La Citta Bianca

Ostuni is known as the “la citta bianca”, the white city. And it is easy to see why. Perched high on a hill, fortified walls keeping the city safe from the regular invaders, everything is an almost perfect white. Very reminiscent of Mykonos in Greece, with narrow cobbled streets, and white paint everywhere you look. Sunglasses in Ostuni are more than just a fashion accessory.

I have previously mentioned how we find many of the places we want to visit through videos and pictures we see shared on Instagram. Ostuni was no different and Victoria had one “must do”. A bar that has the perfect location, perfect cocktails, and perfect view of the sea. OK, the sea was quite a distance away, but you get the picture. And would you know, as we left our accommodation, strolled along the narrow street, and turned a corner, voila! The very same bar was mere steps from where we were staying.

Calling back later in the evening, it was already starting to get busy. Walking up the steps of the bar, which was located across three levels of outdoor stairs, we spied one free table and immediately pounced. It was only a little later, sipping our Aperol Spritz and nibbling the cheese from our aperitivo, more on that in a moment, that we noticed the bar has a queuing system. With many people waiting patiently at the top of the stairs, scanning for a free table. Whoops.

Aperitivo time

Just a quick word on “aperitivo”. The word, loosely translated, means “to open up the appetite”. And, traditionally is quite small. Similar to the pinxtos you get in San Sebastian, or the tapas throughout Spain. With this in mind we ordered an aperitivo with our drinks at Borgo Antico. What arrived was a full meal. So much so it ended up being our dinner.

Exploring Puglia with our stomachs

Exploring Ostuni, or pretty much anywhere we visit, inevitably involved food. A great passion whilst travelling is trying as many of the local foods as possible. One such food was “pucce”. A Pugliese style sandwich. A panino of sorts, but slightly more expensive and a lot more tasty. I will just put it out there but THE best pucce in Puglia can be found at Crumb35. We also got to try more variations of the local pasta speciality, orrichiette. These little ears of pasta can be found on every menu across Puglia. And alongside the orrichiette, on those menus, who can go past burrata and local meats?

Something else we discovered in Ostuni was what we came to strart calling “little coffins”. Strolling past a pastry shop we were lured in and ended up buying our first ever Pasticciotti. They weren’t to be our last. Remember when we were in Porto and became obsessed with pastel de natas? Well,, this was a similar situation. For 2 euros each we had a coffin of deliciousness filled with creme.

Hotter than hell

I would love to say that we walked off the calories, and we tried. We really did. The key was trying to escape the intense heat of the day. Morning walks and then an evening passeggiata, hunting down a cold Menabrea beer. Each day so far we had temperatures that were up in the high 30s. With little air conditioning in places it was hard to stay cool. There is only so much gelato that you can eat. Maybe coming to Southern Italy in August was not the wisest decision.

We had a wonderful couple of days exploring La Citta Bianca, meandering and getting lost in a maze of cobbled streets. Finding the kind of book stores that I could spend hours exploring. Why is it I always come home from holiday with more books than I went with? I also added to my collection of classic Fiat 500 photos. A tradition we started some years ago. Trying to find one in every Italian town we visit.

When not looking for old cars, we were looking for old buildings. At times it was fascinating to stumble across a piece of history, such as the old church we saw, the remains of which have been built around as the city has grown. Down many laneways we saw grand archways framing outsize doors, adorned with dates going back as early as the 1400s. 

The Florence of the South

Such a short visit, and we packed up knowing that this wouldn’t be the last time we see Ostuni. But the road called. It was time to trundle back to the world’s most expensive car park and collect our Fiat 500. We were heading further south, to the Florence of the south. Our next Aperol Spritz would be in the city of Lecce.

Ciao.

But first, coffee

We woke to a strange feeling. A real dichotomy of emotions. Elation, knowing that we were in Puglia, waking to the gorgeous sunshine of Monopoli. We had days and days stretched ahead of us to explore this beautiful part of the world. Yet, deflated remembering the football result from last night’s Euro Final.

I prepared fresh coffee, putting thoughts of football firmly behind me, and we sat out in the early morning sunshine, under a cloudless sky, making a plan for the day. For many weeks, possibly months, these small towns in Puglia were simply something from the pages of Instagram. Places we discovered through social media and immediately added to our “must visit” list. However, this resulted in a list that was long enough to support a whole year in the region. We had three weeks. Life is a compromise, and travel is no different.

Breakfast in Monopoli

The first day of these three weeks started well. With a fresh, and still warm, slice of Puglia’s famous focaccia for breakfast. Served with “un cafe”, a delicious shot of espresso. Our AirBnB was situated right in the old town of Monopoli, amongst so many bars and cafes, and mere steps from the very inviting blue waters of the Adriatic Sea. A sea that we would find ourselves swimming in before too long. Monopoli is a beautiful town. Situated some 500 kilometres  from the nation’s capital, Rome, and just across the Adriatic sea from Croatia and Albania it had a distinctly different feel to the places we have visited in the Italian north. 

The Greek influence

We both remarked how much we were reminded of places like Dubrovnik and Korçula in the south of Croatia. A lot of this is down to the history of the region. The buildings are very white, much like you would see further south, and across Greece. Not very surprising when you consider that in around 8BC, Puglia became a Greek colony. The name Monopoli itself is Greek. Mono and polis, meaning unique and singular.

In the time since then it seems as though Puglia has been invaded by everyone, leaving a distinct character and cuisine behind. If it wasn’t for the ubiquitous Aperol Spritz you could be forgiven for forgetting that you were even in Italy.

The Aperol Spritz ritual

But in Italy we most definitely were. And drinking Aperol Spritz became one of our daily rituals. At home in Australia, it feels a little like a fad, seeing Aperol Spritz bars pop up through summer. Being in Italy it felt the most normal thing in the world. Having travelled top to bottom through this beautiful country I can confirm that Aperol Spritz is the number one aperitivo drink for all Italians.

In summer, when they are not drinking Aperol, the Italians are at the beach. Being coastal, Monopoli is home to a number of delightful small beaches. I use the term, “beach” lightly, as it seems that any small patch of land, however many rocks there are, between the land and sea is called a spiaggia (beach) and is taken over with parasols and sun loungers. And this being Italy they were all packed, people vying for a spot of sand/rock edging the crystal clear blue waters. Very inviting waters. With the mercury hitting the mid 30s it wasn’t long before we were in our bathers and having a dip. 

Dolce far niente

It may have only been day one but we were taking to Italy like a duck to water. Swim in the sea. Lunch with a cold glass of local wine. An afternoon siesta. Then out for early evening aperitivo. Yes, an Aperol Spritz. One thing that we noticed immediately is how seriously the southern Italians take their afternoon siesta. Shops and restaurants all (yes, all) close between the hours of 2pm to around 7pm. We struggled to find anywhere open in these sleepy afternoon hours. A full embrace of the famous Italian saying, “dolce far niente”, loosely translated as the sweet doing of nothing.

We adapted. Stocking up on cold beer before the shops closed, we had chilled afternoons, napping, reading and catching up on my travel journal. This left us fresh and ready for our evening passeggiata, an Italian tradition. Strolling through any street in Italy in the early evening gives you a real insight into how the locals live. Sat on stools outside their door watching the world go by. Sat with friends around a small table playing cards. Elderly couples walking hand in hand, probably as they have done for the last 40 years or so. The younger generation meeting up with friends in bars and drinking, you guessed it, Aperol Spritz. The dolce vita.

One thing we did notice, being this far south, was that many places were cash only. Coming from a country that is almost exclusively card (and phone) only, this has caught us out in the past. Memories of stomping up and down the (very) steep hills of Porto looking for an ATM still bring me out in sweats. Thankfully, Monopoli is a lot flatter, and smaller, and each day we were easily able to ensure we had some Euros in currency. And that we were able to afford that perfect pizza for dinner. I could write a whole blog on pizza. I once did. Suffice to say, in Puglia we found pizza just as good as the best from Naples, the spiritual home of pizza.

Bring out your skeletons

Enjoying the good life, we also got to reflect on life in general. And that we are not here forever. As is fairly common in Italy, Monopoli has a crypt. A place that skeletons get to call home. In the cathedral we saw the skeletons of monks from the 1700s. An eerie sight and one that you become accustomed to whilst visiting churches in Italy.  Momento mori.

From visiting the dead, to the sleep of the dead. All the travelling, swimming, and possibly all the wine, meant that as soon as my head hit the pillow I was out for the night. Waking early, and before we were ready to leave this gorgeous little town, it was time to pack up and see if our Fiat 500 was where we left it. It was. Two days in Monopoli left us yearning for more, and thankfully, we had more. Today our destination was Ostuni, 40 minutes south, with a detour. And what a detour.

Alberobello 

Alberobello is as hard to pronounce as it is to spell. Thankfully, it is easy to find. A short 30 minutes drive from Monopoli. If you don’t know why we were visiting, and why we were very excited, let me explain. Trulli. Lots of them. If you are not familiar with the name, I am sure you have at least seen a picture of them.

Alberobello is home to hundreds of trulli. A World Unesco Heritage Site, Alberobello has been home to trulli since at least the 14th century. A very unique dry stone construction that is unique to this part of the world. Naively, I imagined that we would see a couple, here and there, as we made the 30 minute drive into Alberobello. Victoria knew otherwise. For this road trip she had done some meticulous planning and once we had parked the car she knew where we were headed. I’m glad one of us did.

The main street in the historic centre of Alberobello is lined with trulli. There are hundreds of them. They are quite the sight. Very impressive. And if this was anywhere else in the world we would have been surrounded by influencers. You know, those annoying people who tell you that you “are spoiling their perfect picture of the white churches of Santorini”. The last person that said that to me is now influencing nothing more than the bottom of the Santorini cliffs.

Here, it was relatively busy but nothing like we have experienced in other places in the world that are slowly being destroyed by Instagram tourism. Maybe this part of Italy is yet to be truly “discovered”. Maybe we are ahead of the hordes. This, I am happy with. 

A taste of Puglia

With a satisfied smile, we found a little osteria in a quiet square, and I had my first taste of orrichiette con cime di rapa, perhaps Puglia’s most famous dish. Little ear shaped pasta (orrichiette meaning ear in Italian), with turnip tops and a sprinkling of cheese. A dish of startling simplicity, of which the region is famous for. It wasn’t the last time I would have this delighful dish, and as we strolled back to the car, with our thoughts turning to Ostuni, I was already thinking about dinner, the all important Aperol Spritz.

Ciao!

The best laid plans

It wasn’t planned this way. Who would choose it? When we planned this holiday many months ago we didn’t even know when the final of the European Championships would be. Let alone that England would be playing. Yet, here we were, flying through the night sky, high over Europe, disconnected from the world as somewhere many miles below us, in Berlin, England were kicking off against Spain in their second consecutive Euros final.

In the dark

We land and all around us there are phones being switched out of airplane mode. No point in us doing the same as our Australian phones have no data. Suddenly I can hear commentary. Albeit, in a language that isn’t English. A small child across the aisle to us has the game on his phone, and just as we are about to ask the score, he cheers. The question is, who is he supporting? I have to find out. 

“Goal?”, I ask?

I get a nod. Nothing else. Come on, kid, give me something. 

“Who scored?”

I feel instantly deflated at his reply. We are losing 1:0, conceding not long after the second half resumes.

We shuffle off the plane and the night heat of Bari immediately hits us. The flight from Stansted airport was short and painless. A couple of weeks visiting family and friends in England had come to a close. It takes years for these visits to come around, and they go by in a flash. A blur of catch ups, lunches, and many drinks. And each time we meet, we are all a couple of years older. 

Collecting the hire car in Bari

I feel like I am ageing even faster as we make our way to clear customs and pick up a hire car. My phone is now connected to the airport wifi and now keep refreshing BBC Sport for updates to the football. I have a flashback to using Teletext on a Saturday afternoon to check the Division 1 football scores. We are still losing as we fend off Europcar’s insistent offer of roadside assistance and full insurance to remove all excess. I am tired, we are losing in the final, and no, I do not want to give you any more money. Grazie.

Just as the keys are handed over, I cheer. Not because we finally have a Fiat 500 to tour Puglia, but because Cole Palmer has just equalised. Game on.

Leaving the airport terminal we head left. Past the bright lights of the money exchange counters that make all airports look the same. It is dark as we enter the rental car park and it takes us a while to find the car. Parked at the very back. We enjoyed driving the Fiat 500 whilst in Provence a couple of years ago so we decided to book another. Thankfully, as we travel light, we could just about get all our luggage in. As we pull out of the car park, I see that I have lost wifi. And with it my hopes of following along to the conclusion of the football final.

Leaving Bari for Monopoli

Whilst Bari is supposedly a beautiful city to spend a couple of days in, we headed south. Our Puglia road trip started with a 50 minute drive down the coast to the town of Monopoli. Settling into the left hand drive, negotiating the very dark motorway and Italian drivers taking no notice of the speed limits, Vik was a picture of composure. Whilst everyone around her drove like they were in the midst of a great emergency, Vik calmly and confidently had us in Monopoli before midnight. It would have been slightly earlier but we misread Google Maps and ended up doing a tour around the outskirts of Monopoli. 

Monopoli has an historic centre, like many of the towns across Italy. And we knew that we couldn’t take cars in the old town. The only information we had received from the host of the AirB&B was that we could park in the white lines for free, and in the blue lines with a paid parking ticket. Late at night, tired, and not knowing whether we were European Champions or not, this is a harder task than it should be. Some roads had no lines at all. What did this mean for parking? 

Will the car be here tomorrow?

As we were scratching our heads I saw a little car leave what looked like a car park, across the road from where we were. I frantically waved Vik across to the vacant spot. We looked around the area and could see nothing that would suggest it was for residents, or that there was a time limit on how long we could leave the car. We got our bags, locked up the car and walked to our accommodation. Would the car be there in the morning or would it be towed away. We were too tired to worry. 

It was time to sleep. And dream of the 2026 World Cup. The long wait since 1966 continues. Spain scored a late winner and broke all of our hearts. It’s time to take advice from Ted Lasso. It is time to be a goldfish.

Buona notte

Heading from Perth to Europe in search of sun

For those of you that have seen the photos on Instagram (explore_with_fran) and Facebook, you will know by now that we have recently been on our winter (from home in Australia) holiday. Heading up to Europe in the hope of warmer climes. It turns out that we had Italy to thank for the weather. England did the usual. Called itself summer and yet it was Autumn that showed up. Thankfully, we had managed to pack for all eventualities.

The world’s shortest trip to Bali

From the outset, it was quite the adventure. And this was only day one. In a quest to save money, and we saved a packet, we started our long journey back to the UK with a flight from Perth to Bali. A Jetstar flight was a small inconvenience considering what was to follow.  Why an inconvenience? If you are Australian you will be familiar with the “no frills” airline, Jetstar. If you are in the UK, think of Ryanair or Easyjet. You get the picture.

Bali is a short hop from Perth. Even closer than a trip to Sydney. Yes, by quite some distance. But, it did feel weird to us to collect our bags at Denpasar airport, scurrying past all the taxi hawkers, “taxi, taxi?”, and back into the airport heading for Departures. Our shortest trip to Bali by quite some margin. That said, we still had to have our visa on arrival (VOA) and our customs declaration form. A bureaucratic necessity that we will also had to do 5 weeks later. Bali also now has a tourist tax, but this was something we could skip this time as we were only transiting through the airport.

The heat and smells of Bali are so familiar to us. We were there at Easter trying out a new part of the island. The humidity hits you as soon as you get off the plane. You will never know how tempted we were to jump in a Grab (Bali’s version of Uber) to Canggu and spend a blissful 5 weeks in one of Bali’s excellent villas or hotels. Alas, we will have to save this holiday for another time. Xmas, perhaps? Right then, we had places to be. And right now, sweating in the heat of Bali, we were checking into our flight to Dubai.

Living as wolves

I should explain why we were in Bali. And why we were heading to Dubai.  Flying long haul is hard work. Hard on the body. And it gets harder the older I get. Being cramped in economy is no way to fly halfway around the world. So, this being our first visit to the UK in a couple of years we decided we were going to treat ourselves to business class. This was before we saw how much the prices had escalated in just a couple of years. Eye watering.

Then, rather fortuitously, a colleague of Victoria’s mentioned that if you flew to Bali and connected to a flight there you could make a big saving. We checked. And yes, the saving was indeed huge. So huge that we dropped a chunk of our savings on return business class flights from Bali to Europe with Emirates. It was to be our first experience of their business class offering. How would it compare to my all time favourite, Qatar? I will report back in part 2 of this travel blog.

I have previously said I would rather live one day as a wolf, than one hundred days as a sheep. It was time to be wolves. And as we landed in Manchester, after a very long travel day, and jumped into the Emirates provided chauffeured car for the drive to Halifax, we were happy, if tired, wolves.

Memento mori.