A narrow silent street in central Bari. A large open terrace on top of an old building. It was midnight already and a huge full moon was lighting the sky of this night in the end of July. At the round glass table with six seats, I was having the purest Italian fest: freshly baked sfogliatelle from the miraculous near pasticceria Fittipaldi, still warm and crunchy, with their tens of layers in cinnamon flavor and full of cream. I was making my eyes busy trying to decide which balcony on the building in front was more beautiful. My God, for moments like this, how I love Italy!
The one hour spent earlier that evening in front of the building, trying to find a way to enter using the smart lock that was apparently stupid that time, assisted on the phone by two Russian girls, didn’t even existed anymore. Nor the pain in my feet, from the so damn silly idea of wearing high platforms on that day back home, at work and after, going straight to the airport and then all the long walk to find my B&B. It didn’t matter.
I was in Italy again, the second time this year, after Venice in February, and that’s more than I could ever thank for.
The long night walk in flip-flops through Bari, on the promenade by the Adriatic Sea, watching the people, the discussion with the Italian guy about how he saw more of my country than I and I saw more of Italy than he so far did, and of course the long walks on all the streets of the old town, again and again. All these were hints of a great trip just happening.
The next day, the moment I opened my eyes I was already excited. Wonderland was my destination. I grabbed some hot pastries with tuna and mozzarella from a random coffee shop in the station. It sent me straight to the heaven of taste, so surprisingly good it was. After 1h40 I put my first step in Alberobello, a place made in fairytales that I so wanted to see since the first photo of it came before my eyes, years ago. And there time has stopped. I have no idea for how many hours I walked the tiny streets among hundreds of trulli, the whitewashed stone huts with conical perfect roofs made of grey, flat slate-like stones matched together, bearing white signs of mystical origin, christian or primitive, dating back to old times and cultures venerating the sun. Today, still believed to protect the house from demons or just for good luck.
I entered the small shops with colorful local craft products, pottery, jewelry, embroidery, I stare in front of so many trulli I lost any track of time, I had a huge delicious and creamy italian ice cream, I spent minutes to take each photo to avoid the crowds and I long enjoyed a 360 top view on the roof of a local shop.
A short summer shower made everybody disappear in the tiny restaurants around. All I wanted was a glass of red wine, bread and fresh olive oil.
I left Alberobello only after I was fully convinced that I walked every street at least two times.
I spent the evening walking the limestone streets of the old town in Bari, just randomly, so I could enjoy every sight found by chance. From the lively Piazza Mercantile to the quiet streets around Basilica Di San Nicola, where old neighbours were having long and loud conversations sitting on wooden chairs in front of their doors, under windows with hang-drying clothes. It smelled like good home cooked food and it felt like a happy life.
I choose my dinner by the number of people in front of La Tana del Polpo and the seafood was great, in a very warm Italian atmosphere and with talkative hosts. Was a perfect day and another one was to start in the morning.
I was planning to get to Polignano a Mare, one of the pearls in Puglia. And as pearls are expensive, the accomodation there was too. So for a 2 euro train ticket, it seem a better deal to stay in Bari. But sometimes the plans in the station don’t match those in the train. Sometimes… As far as I knew, the trip was about 1h. After about 15m, we stopped in Monopoli. This was the station after Polignano. Ups! The Italian girl next to me who spoke very little English confirmed.
No one asked for tickets, the train was full, there was 1h20min to Lecce. While the girl was making conversation, I decide to continue the trip to Lecce and of course to rick a fine.
I got to Lecce with no budget injuries. After more than 30min waiting in a bus station where no bus to the center stopped and another 60 in a local bus that surrounded the city, stopping for 30min at the last station, I finally arrived in the centre, pissed off, thirsty and with zero interest of seeing the city. It was very hot and dry, very few people around, empty terraces and quiet. I walked a little feeling that I should be some place else than the heel of the boot. I took the next train to Polignano.
Polignano a Mare
The whitest streets with the most beautiful balconies are in Polignano a Mare. Since it has taken me so long to get here, all I needed was a good swim. The famous Lama Monachile Beach, a small area with white stones, surrounded by cliffs with cubic buildings built on top was more beautiful than any photos I’ve seen of it. But painful. First, was packed with people. I finally found 1m free to lay my towel quickly before it gets occupied too. And took a deep breath to have the courage to start walking bare feet the other 3m distance to the sea. Walking on those round white stones can be classified as torture minding my still injured feet from the high platform sandals, plus the last two days of nonstop walking.
But when I finally could swim, I felt a huge relief resting my feet. The view was amazing from this point, inside the cliffs around the beach were deep caves where people entered swimming and where a couple was kissing. I swam further until the noises from the shore got lost and replaced by those of the waves hitting the cliffs. I could see the entire cost of Polignano.
Getting out from the water was torture ep 2. Plus I was all dirty because of something in the water. Hopefully rotten algae. It didn’t matter.
I wandered the streets letting myself lost in that place and I got right in time to enjoy the sunset in the best point. The orange in the sky was reflected on the limestone houses, leaving the sea darker now. Close to me was a fisherman. But the sea was at at least 50m down.
That evening in Bari I went to try Al Pescatore, the most famous seafood restaurant in town, recommended by everybody. No tables, it was full with people dress nice and looking fresh. I wasn’t going to wear something else but flip-flops no matter what. After all that walking was a matter of survival. I finally got a table and had an amazing dinner while all the other guests were going crazy for some football players arriving there. I’m more into fish and wine than football. I ended a nice day with a huge ice-cream, gazing at the blood moon total eclipse.
I could walk the little streets of Monopoli in a summer day forever. White houses with colorful windows and balconies with flowers, competing one another for the most beautiful balcony title, little shops, churches and olive trees. The Porto Marzano Beach though didn’t convince me to go for a swim. It was a sandy beach but I had more masochistic taste. In Porto Vecchio I couldn’t find a boat to take me to Polignano. Or maybe they didn’t understood me. I left by train, feeling a bit tipsy. My late breakfast just earlier that day was olives and many types of cheese, salami, prosciutto and red wine. On holiday all is permitted.
This time Polignano spoiled me with the clearest blue water of the Adriatic Sea, as a farewell to remember. I took a last walk on those nasty stones on the beach, a long swim and a last look at this place that has now become one of my favourite beautiful places. I said my goodbye to that deep blue of the sea from the top of the famous Grotta Palazzese restaurant.
After Taormina in Sicily, with its red oranges scent and salted lemonade, the Ligurian coast with the so chic Portofino, Rapallo and Camogli, Amalfi and Positano with their lemon perfume, the sophisticated Capri where everybody drinks champagne and the restaurants have views to the blue Med and white pianos, the breathtaking views of Cinque Terre with my beloved Manarola and Vernaza, Tuscany with those dreamy landscapes and incredible wines, it is hard to decide what to see in Italy. How about all? In each of these places, when I was there, I thought that was the best in Italy. And this July, for me, Puglia was the best in trully la bella Italia.