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Moving on from Matera

As hard as it was to leave Matera, we had places to be. We would be staying in Italy for a while yet, and it would entail catching a plane across the water. The last week or so has seen us exploring Puglia and, with Matera, scratching the surface in Basilicata. Both these regions have exceeded expectations. And we hope to revisit both, at some time in the future. 

If you are thinking of exploring Southern Italy, I would suggest you move it up the travel backlog. Right now, Puglia remains free of the hordes of tourists you see in other places around the world. It won’t stay that way for long. The place is too beautiful, and the food too good.

Arriving in Sicily

Knowing how much we enjoy the food of Italy, it is great to know that for the second leg of this trip we will be exploring Sicily, a short flight from Bari airport on the mainland. If thinking of Sicily has you immediately thinking of The Godfather movies, I am here to tell you that it offers so much more.

Sicily has a very storied history, and this explains why it can often feel very un-Italian. It was merged with the Kingdom of Italy as recently as 1861, and whilst it is the largest region within Italy, you can taste, smell, and feel the very distinctive culture of this Mediterranean island. The largest in fact.

La Cosa Nostra

Many peoples have passed through Sicily over the years, making various claims. In the 8th century BC it was colonised by the Greeks. And at various times the Romans, the Muslims, the Vikings, the Normans, the Spanish and the British have populated the island of Sicily. Reunification with the Italian mainland brought its own problems, with the Sicilian locals protesting against the attempts of the “North” to industrialise the island.

It is partly as a result of this unrest that gave the world the Mafia. Local networks, going by the name Cosa Nostra, became a part of the Sicilian social structure. Using violence to impose their “law”, the mafia had created a foothold that would last up to the present day. Emigration saw local mafia bosses move to the United States of America, and ever since, the “mob” has been glorified on TV. This came full circle when Francis Ford Coppolla shot scenes from his Godfather franchise here on the island. There is even a small town called Corleone, perhaps the inspiration for one of the most iconic movie characters we have seen.

In the shadow of Mt Etna

Whilst the mafia still exist today, you wouldn’t see any obvious signs of this, especially as a tourist. Sicily remains a very popular place for people to visit, and our visit was to start in Catania, on the east coast. Catania lives permanently in the shadow of Mt Etna, a very active volcano. In the days before our arrival it had erupted, with lava seen exploding out of the top. By the time we arrived, this had calmed down, and all we saw were plumes of smoke and lots of volcanic ash in the street.

I suspect Catania is not top of most tourists’ “must visit” list whilst in Sicily. We only spent one night in the city and managed to see a lot, including the famed fish market, views of Mt Etna, and much of the famed Baroque architecture Sicily is famous for.

Taormina

Our second stop in Sicily couldn’t have been more different. We took the bus along the coast to the beautiful town of Taormina. Perhaps a little too beautiful, judging by the vast increase in tourist numbers. Having spent time in Puglia, then Catania, this was the first time the vast hordes of tourists felt a little overwhelming. The narrow main street in Taormina was packed with tours from the visiting cruise ships. Little flag waving tour guides traipsing tourists up and down the main strip.

The location of Taormina is stunning. Perched high up on a hill, overlooking the Ionian Sea, with vistas stretching as far as the eye can see. One day we foolishly took it upon ourselves to walk down to the beach. It took 30 minutes downhill. And a little longer coming in the other direction. With a stop half way for a cold beer to ensure that I didn’t die on the way back.

Meeting a real life Nonna

Our bed and breakfast felt a million miles away from the hustle and bustle, yet, we found out that we could walk there in a matter of minutes. The host, a quintessential Italian nonna, had lived and raised her children in the same house, so knew all the shortcuts. We could go from our silent balcony with views across to Mt Etna, to greedily eating cannoli in the main street in Taormina in under 15 minutes. Bellissimo.

Taormina is unlike many small Italian towns. The number of high end luxury shops immediately tell you that this town is targeting a certain demographic. Those with fat wallets. This takes a little of the shine away, in my opinion. You don’t need to come all the way to Taormina to go shopping for a watch that will set you back as much as a small car.

We did a lot of exploring of the side streets and found a little Italian grocery selling cold beer at a price I am very comfortable with. Perched on the supplied stools outside the store, using a handily placed bottle opener, we were far away from the madding crowd. The simple life that I so adore Italy for.

Passeggiata time

The evenings quietened down a little, as people headed back to their cruise ships and coaches. We had two very enjoyable evenings taking our evening passeggiata and pre dinner Aperol Spritz. It was in Taormina that we had our fastest ever pizza served. We ordered from the staff, who entered it into a handheld device. We also ordered an entree to nibble whilst our pizzas were being cooked. 

No sooner had the waitress walked away than two pizzas arrived. 

“No, no”, I said,” these can’t be ours. We have just ordered.”

Quick check, and yes, these were indeed ours. I was told that they only take a few seconds in the very hot wood fired pizza oven. That said, the pizza chef must have been adding toppings even as the order was coming through. We had almost finished our pizza by the time the entree turned up.

The Greek Theatre

One of the highlights of any trip to Taormina, perhaps even the whole of Sicily, is a visit to the Greek Theatre. Dating back to the 3rd century BC, the theatre remains stunning. What a backdrop. Sat in the seats, looking out to the ocean, it is hard not to imagine the people that have passed through this most impressive of sights.

Our thoughts turn to Cefalu

Strolling back to the bed and breakfast, we were still a little incredulous as to quite how fast the pizza arrived. Unfortunately, the days seemed to be going just as quick. Already this was night three in Sicily, and tomorrow was time to move on again.

We had a train booked to Cefalu. A place we were very excited about visiting.

Dolce far niente

Leaving Gallipoli was hard. It is the sort of small Italian town that you could lose yourself in for months. The slow vibe. Easy pace of life. And how vibrant it feels when the sun goes down. No expectations. High rewards. Dolce far niente. Picking up a sentence or two of Italian each day. As your “buon giornios” start to connect with your “come stais?” one day you find yourself thinking in Italian.

Leaving Puglia for Basilicata

Isn’t that the dream? It is certainly one of mine. That dream will have to wait. Today we were headed out of Puglia. Although, I didn’t realise this when we booked the trip. Basilicata is a close neighbour of Puglia and is home to one of the oldest cities in the world. A city that stops you in your tracks. Takes your breath away. Has you entranced and almost hypnotised.

Matera is truly magical. It looks like no place you have ever been. It looks uninhabited, and rather eerie. This is until you get up close and discover how wonderfully the people of the city have maintained the history whilst converting many of the stone cave dwellings into bed and breakfasts and restaurants. This bereft looking town is actually a hive of activity. 

Arriving by car in Matera

With no private cars allowed into the old town, once again, we parked some distance away. And from arriving into the newer part of town, with no glimpse of Matera in sight, we could have been, and indeed were, in any small nondescript Italian town. Nothing against Italian towns but many do look rather uninspiring. Buildings that looked perfunctory rather than perfect. Architecture from the 60s and 70s. Could we really be close to the magical Matera that I had seen and heard about from television programmes?

As seems to be common in Italy, we had been sent a homemade video from the host of our accommodation, directing us where to park. With Victoria driving and me trying to match the video to the streets as they quickly passed me by, it took us a couple of attempts before we got our bearings. The tension was eased somewhat by the running commentary of our host, in broken English.

“Here on the left. Parking. Possible. Here, also. Possible. There, by blue lines. Not possible.”

Having found a space that was indeed possible, we trundled our bags over the cobbled streets, turning a corner, and literally realising we were there. Right there. A low wall offered us views right across a valley. A valley of stone. And if you looked really carefully, focused your eyes, you could see little doorways and windows cut into the stone. How many thousands of years had Italians enjoyed the very same view?

Has Djokovic moved to Matera?

Our host, an uncanny Novak Djokovic lookalike was on the balcony, waving across to us as we crossed the piazza, looking confused at the Google Map on our phone, trying to work out which direction we should be walking in. Novak came down and took one of our bags as we climbed three flights of stairs. Hard work, and worth it, seeing the balcony the accommodation had, with unhindered views across Matera, towards the stone hills that look as though they have dead black eyes, staring right back at you.

“Novak” was a very friendly chap, and was happy to hear that as a result of his very helpful video, it was “possible” for us to find a free parking spot for the next 3 days. In what appeared to be a pattern on this Italian trip, we were checked in by our host, given some information, and they quickly departed. Never to be seen again. A few hours later, over a cold glass of Soave, you could be forgiven for thinking that Novak was an apparition.

The “shame” of the Sassi

As recently as the 1950s, Matera was dubbed the “shame of Italy” as a result of the overwhelming poverty in the town. Some 16,000 people were forcibly moved out of the Sassi (stone buildings) and into new housing. “Modern” apartments that can still be seen close by. They look like an aberration. And this left Matera as an empty shell.

It would have stayed this way. Perhaps forever had it not been for some enterprising locals. Seeing the opportunity offered by this they created a local group, intent on restoring and maintaining the history of a town that gets to play ancient Jerusalem in films. When Matera was listed as a UNESCO heritage site in 1993 they knew that a corner had been turned.

Fixer Uppers in Matera

With the government offering 30 year leases, at minimal cost, for people to purchase a “fixer upper”, there are now over 3000 locals living in the Sassi. This number swells as the word continues to seep out amongst tourists, with Matera starting to become a little like the gold rush of years gone by. The town was one of the busier ones of our travels around Southern Italy and I couldn’t help wondering if there is a tipping point for towns like Matera? The effects of over tourism on small Italian towns would soon become very evident to us during a visit to Taormina in Sicily.

The tightrope walk of tourism

Having the “right” amount of tourism is a fine line to walk. The town relies on tourists. They need to be drawn in. And Matera alone is enough of a draw. As the secret gets out, and spreads further, as happens exponentially quick in this age of social media, the risk is that you are dealing with another Santorini. Lines of people queuing up to get the perfect shot. Aggressive influencers asking you to move as you are “in their shadow of the photo”. Yes, this actually happened to me in Santorini. I will let you decide whether I moved for them or not.

That said, as travellers, we definitely benefit from social media. For large parts of this trip, Victoria had been doing Insta(gram) research. The fruits of which do find us in some spectacular places. In Matera it was Zipa cafe bar. Cut into the rocks, high up in Matera. We found a bean bag and had a drink amongst the rocks.

Maintaining our traditions in Matera

Right now, the town did not feel over touristed. Puglia, and as now in Basilicata, still felt a little under the radar. We were able to stroll around Matera through the day, and then come out for dinner in the evening without a reservation. We followed our Italian ritual of the passeggiata before the customary Aperol Spritz.

Each evening we became cave dwellers, the restaurants cut deep into the rock, and down flights of stairs. The effect was a restaurant not affected by the intense heat of the day. A restaurant where we got to sample some of the cuisine the region is famous for, cucina povera. Cuisine of the poor. I particularly enjoyed the bread soup. Using stale bread in a rich tomato broth. Delicious.

Strolling back through the dark streets of Matera we reflected on the amazing history of this place, and how, had things been different we would not have Matera to marvel at. There was a suggestion, which sounds incredulous with the passage of time, to concrete over the whole town back in the days of “shame”. Serenaded by a guitar strumming singer in the piazza, I am very grateful that Matera will be here, to be enjoyed, for generations to come.

Our last night on the mainland of Italy. What a trip. Now, our thoughts start to turn towards Sicily, tomorrow’s destination.

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!