Puglia is happening. Almost. And therein lies its charm. "Almost" means it is not yet overrun. Life goes on here, at the heel of the boot of Italy, as it always has—an idyllic snapshot of bella Italia, where the older generation of men still sit on park benches, like cats finding a spot of sun, play boccie and then gather in cafés at dusk. People here have time. Shops and churches close at 12:30 P.M. and don't reopen until 4:30 or 5:00 P.M. Although it's just an hour's flight south from Rome to Puglia's capital, Bari (which is perhaps why fashionable Romans are buying property there like mad), or about four hours' drive across the country from Naples, Puglia feels a world apart. Only recently has it taken a place in the travelers' pantheon of discoveries.
Unlike green and sensuous Tuscany, Puglia's landscape is stark and chiseled. It is agricultural, with vineyards, fields of grain and secolari, those magnificent hundred-year-old olive trees, planted in perfectly straight, long lines across the terrain. Puglia's other distinctive landmarks are the trulli—conical, drystone buildings used for both living space and storage—which lend a fairy-tale quality to the countryside, and the sandy beaches and grottoes, which shape the coastlines.
For ten years, friends of mine had been telling me about the 200-mile-long peninsula that skims the Adriatic on the east side, where Greece is practically within earshot, and the Gulf of Taranto on the west. They extolled the beauty of the fortified architecture, which reflects the various invaders, from Greeks to Normans. They raved about the hearty cuisine, the wide choice of hotels and, above all, Puglia's enduring authenticity. Finally tempted to see this intriguing land for ourselves, my partner and I devoted several weeks one recent autumn (summer is too hot) to unearthing Puglia's secrets. Dividing our time into a "home stay" and a road trip, we used the Newport, Rhode Island–based agency Wimco (800-932-3222) to rent a house near Cisternino, a small town in the center of coastal Puglia that was ideal for day excursions, and plotted our drive to Il Salento, the southernmost region.
Our house was a restored trullo set among olive groves, less than an hour from either Bari or Brindisi, two of Puglia's airport gateways, and the town of Cisternino itself was typical of many in Puglia, with a centro storico (historic district) that, alas, was encircled by unattractive new buildings. As temporary residents, we established simple habits that helped integrate us into local life, such as having our evening aperitivo at Bar Fod (5 Piazza Vittorio Emanuele; 011-39-080-444-8546) or a casual dinner at Macelleria Demola Vincenzo and Arrosteria del Vicoletto (2–6 Via Giulio II; 011-39-080-444-8063), a butcher shop with an adjacent grill, which may have been my favorite meal of the trip. Not knowing the gastronomic ground rules, and having just eaten a simple green salad, I asked for vegetables as a side dish to my main course. The waiter responded with: "Vegetables? Vegetables, signorina? We don't have a kitchen—we only roast meat."
During our ten-day stay, we wanted to explore the handful of hamlets surrounding Cisternino. We tried to plan around market days, when vendors selling everything from olives and roast chickens to underwear and frying pans would set up temporary shop in one part of town—be it a particular street or a square. Of the villages we visited, the most beautifully proportioned was Martina Franca, studded with Baroque and Rococo architecture. We stopped at the Basilica di San Martino and saw the frescoed rooms at the 17th-century Palazzo Ducale, a visit we capped off with spaghetti and wild mushrooms at Ristorante ai Portici (6 Piazza Maria Immacolata; 011-39-080-480-1702). Two miles away as the crow flies, Locorotondo's centro storico charmed me with its tiny lanes of whitewashed buildings and the fragrance of simmering tomato sauce wafting out over balconies hung with laundry. A wine merchant introduced me to Locorotondo's whites made from the Verdeca and Bianco d'Alessano grapes.
We made the requisite pilgrimage fifteen minutes away to Alberobello, the UNESCO World Heritage site famous for its dense concentration of trulli. The old quarter was, indeed, one trullo after another, though most were souvenir and craft shops. (To explore real residential trulli, we walked ten minutes to the other side of town, called Aia Piccola.) In the center of Alberobello we ventured into the tiny La Cantina restaurant (9 Vicolo Lippolis; 011-39-080-432-3473). It was a typically Italian pleasure to overindulge in the variety of focaccia and tagliarini al pomodoro.
By the end of the first week, lured by tales of two spectacular places, we headed north about an hour to the Adriatic coastal town of Trani. Along the way (and throughout Puglia in general), it appeared that every town had a church or a cathedral worth pulling over to see. But Trani was unusual in that its cathedral was simple yet spectacular, set on a tiny peninsula jutting into the sea. We drove inland another forty-five minutes, since we were already halfway there, to see one of the region's great wonders, near the towns of Andria and Ruvo di Puglia: Castel del Monte. Built in the 13th century by Frederick II, Holy Roman Emperor, king of Germany and king of Sicily, Castel del Monte is considered one of Europe's best-preserved medieval buildings. From afar, it rises like a monolith on a hilltop above the fields, and its unusual architectural plan includes eight octagonal towers. Whatever the explanation for using the number eight, and there are many—it's a symbol of the crown, an astrological configuration or even a coming together of God and man—the vast, empty interiors instilled a powerful sense of quiet.
Sorry to leave our routine in Cisternino but eager for new vistas, we officially began our road trip in Savelletri di Fasano, on the Adriatic coast, spending a few nights in two hotels with traditional architecture but modern amenities. Masseria Torre Coccaro (doubles from $343; 8 Contrada Coccaro; 011-39-080-482-9310; masseriatorrecoccaro.com), a restored 16th-century farmhouse with thirty-three rooms, had an easy, unpolished feel: stone floors, rough-hewn furniture, antiques in the junior suites. Masseria San Domenico (doubles from $476; 379 Strada Litoranea; 011-39-080-482-7769; masseriasandomenico.com), just five minutes away, felt more like an aristocratic manor house, with forty-eight rooms and gorgeous grounds—olive groves, a sprawling pool, a golf course, a thalassotherapy spa. The main restaurant was set inside a stone farm building and emphasized local dishes like potato-and-artichoke soup.
We then headed south about an hour to the Baroque village of Lecce, which could be described as a mini Rome. Its main square, Piazza Sant'Oronzo, even has the well-tended remains of a Roman amphitheater, and much like that larger city, Lecce is made for walking. For lunch, we strolled to Alle due Corti (1 Corte dei Giugni; 011-39-0832-242-223; alleduecorti.com) for a sample of the local dish ciceri e tria (half-fried, half-boiled chickpeas and pasta) and couldn't resist the more familiar pasta, oven baked with mozzarella, eggplant and basil. In the evening we watched as Lecce lit up with extravagantly illuminated churches and squares. Stores stayed open late, and people cruised the pulsing Via Vittorio Emanuele II well into the night or sat, deep in conversation, at bars and restaurants. When we'd had our fill, we went by foot to our room at the Patria Palace Hotel (doubles from $298; 13 Piazzetta Riccardi; 011-39-0832-245-111; starwood.com)—modern and efficient but certainly not a palace.
Thirty minutes farther south, we checked into the Masseria Montelauro (closed from November 7 to April 1; doubles from $211; Strada Provanciale, Otranto; 011-39-0836-806-203; masseriamontelauro.it), a comfortable Moorish-style hotel, and had lunch at the Osteria degli Amici, in nearby Giurdignano (13 Piazza Municipio; 011-39-0836-813-001), where a seventy-five-year-old woman hand-made our orecchiette, Puglia's signature pasta that looks like little ears (hence the name). My favorite "larger" town was farther south still: Galatina, a wine-producing center since the Middle Ages. Its 14th-century Basilica di Santa Caterina di Alessandria, whose centerpiece is the religious narrative depicted on the frescoed ceiling, is a rare example of Gothic architecture.
Nearing the tip of the heel, with just two days left on our journey, we overnighted at Il Convento di Santa Maria di Costantinopoli, in Marittima di Diso (doubles from $476, including breakfast, lunch and wine; Via Convento; athenamalpas@yahoo.com) . The former monastery is filled with the fabulous, myriad collections of art—from Aboriginal to Indian—of the owners, Alistair McAlpine, who was once treasurer for Britain's Conservative Party under Margaret Thatcher, and Athena, his wife. Bookcases and tables overflowed with objets and magazines, and each room had an ethnic theme. Staying at Il Convento was more like being at a house party than at a hotel, especially when guests gathered for meals at the communal table in the dining room or in the garden.
On our last day, we followed the coast to Marina de Leuca, the end of the peninsula, and on to Acquarica del Capo, a town famous for hand-woven rush-and-reed baskets. They aren't for sale commercially, but the owner of a hardware store where I happened to inquire said that his aunt still made them. He got into his car, and we followed him to her house. Bent over with age and effort, she welcomed us into her garage and proudly brought out her remaining three straw-colored, basket-weave tote bags. I bought all three.
LOG-IN TO POST A COMMENT
POST A COMMENT