Slipping south in Italy: Coast, Parkruns, Trulli houses, olive groves, and cave dwellings.

4th Oct – 13th Oct 2024

With the rain finally having eased and blue sky visible again we headed back to the motorway and onwards to Rimini. This was a sleepy sand dune bit of coast until the mid 19th century when it was developed as a beach resort and by the end of the 20th century had morphed into a throbbing mega-resort well known for its boistrous night-club scene. Just what we were looking for, she lied.

The old town, situated slightly back from the beach, has an impressive Roman history, and the film director, Federico Fellini is the city’s most famous son. We stopped for just one night here achieving the following (in chronological order):

Laundry.

A 20 minute walk to the old town. Destination ‘Nud e Crud’, a cafe in the old fishermans’ district of Borgo San Giuliano that does gourmet piadine (toasted flatbread sandwiches) as recommended by Lonely Planet. Delicious.

A walk around the French themed market that was set up in the square. We caved and bought chocolatey marshmallow treats that ended up being less tasty than they looked.

A cycle out to the beach to view the mega-resort. It was very quiet and all the beach clubs were closed and packed up for the season. Unfortunately the mini-golf was closed too. Tragedy.

Sleep. Despite the din of more heavy rain overnight.

Rimini Parkrun. This was back near the lunch spot of yesterday and had the impressive backdrop of a 1st century Roman bridge. The rain had stopped but it was cold and quite squelchy underfoot. The small field of 24 was half British and I didn’t come last! Nick was a bit of a popsicle by the time I finished.

Rimini market. A weekly,sprawling affair offering mainly clothes that we navigated through on the way back from the Parkrun. I found a stall selling pre-loved knitwear and am now the proud own of an over sized, hand knitted Bolivian wool jumper that spent two days in the freezer before being allowed in the cupboard. It will need to be subzero before I can consider wearing it without risking hyperthermia.

From Rimini we headed south down the east coast, putting in a relatively long day on the road for us. It was motorway all the way and we passed through the region of Marche and into Abruzzo. The further south we went, the more olive groves there were. We stopped for two nights in a random coastal town called Cologna Spiaggia in which we found a small cheap beachfront camp in amongst the large expensive beachfront camps. This was overseen by an old chap called Fransisco who spoke no English and who took some money from us, but, in retrospect, I don’t think enough. The place had a comfortable unkemptness, bordering on the shabbby, but all this was forgotten when looking at the sea and listening to the waves. The sun was shining and the cold dankness of the past few days melted away. We spent our time sitting, reading, walking and chatting to neighbours. It was tempting to consider not moving for a week but we managed to drag ourselves away and continue south.

Another longish day on the road brought us through the region of Molise and into Puglia. Here we stopped at the coastal town of Trani, another reasonably randomly selected spot that entirely fullfilled the remit. It was a coastal town not far off the motorway with a pretty harbour, a few impressive old buildings and a cheap, secure camper park a short walk away from it all.

We strolled to the waterfront in the mid afternoon, the day still hot and sunny, appretiating the seafront fortress, the enormous church and the slightly faded, ornamental park along the way. Only about half of the harbourfront eateries and bars were open and as the sun disappeared in the west the rest were cast into a rapidly cooling shade.

There was one bar on the harbour wall that clung to a slither of fading sunlight and we beetled there for a sundowner apperitif before heading home. It seems that only a short time has passed since we were seeking shade when sitting outside. In October we are like lazy cats, basking in any pool of sunshine that we can find. As dusk settled in we walked back along the harbour’s edge and discovered the low-key fresh fish market. The fishing fleet had returned and was directly selling its catch from the dockside. It looked amazing, but we had to resist any purchases. Small space and messy/smelly fish cooking not ideally suited. Better in the BBQ era of this trip.

From Trani we continued south for a while then cut inland into the Itria Valley. The landscape was rocky with softly rolling hillsides, covered almost exclusively in olive groves. This whole swathe of Italy is groaning with olive trees, as far as the eye can see. Unfortunately, there was another unexpected and disappointing thing that Puglia is groaning under the weight of, and that is litter. This beautiful countryside is cursed by fly tipping and every layby, roadside, and ditch is full of rubbish. Often this is bagged up, or spilling out of a bag, making it obvious that it has been deliberately dumped rather than carelessly discarded out of a car window. It was depressing and infuriating. There seems to be an apathy here about changing the situation. The authorities not investing any manpower into doing clean ups and the people not making any effort to tidy up their own imediate environments. I think they are all blinded to the situation now. It is a shame.

Our first port of call was Alberobello, a small town with a big drawcard. Trulli houses. The whole area is dotted with them but Alberbello has the biggest concentration in one place. Apparently about 1500. A trulli house is a small round limestone building built in dry stone construction with a conical shaped roof. They are often in adjoining clusters, each one forming a room of a dwelling or a farm building. They look like charming hobbit houses and it is impossible not to take photos of them.

We managed to stay close to the centre of the town in a place that was part car park, part olive grove run by a chap that looked like a southern Italian version of a young Alexei Sayle. It was only a short walk from here to the trulli house/tourist trap area so no time was wasted before we were able to imerse ourselves in the crowds. Most of the trulli are now converted into tourist tat shops/retaurants/bars but some entrepenurial owners were just opening their propertiesfor tours, either by payment or ‘donation’. They are all interconnected by narrow walkways and passages and (commerce aside) the whole place was quite magical. The place was crawling with ‘Insta-ready’ young things, fully made up with flowing tresses, flouncing around in neutral tone garb, pouting and photographing the sh!t out of themselves. (Next stop a lavender field in Provence, darling!) We were bemused, as usual, as to the world of social media and its driving forces, reduced to quietly mocking them all for our own personal entertainment. Perhaps that is its point!

We spent a day a’bike, cruising through the country lanes of the area, visiting another couple of noteable and scenic towns along our way, Martina Franca and Locorotondo. Both were situated on hills and both had handsome old towns with mazes of narrow lanes and impressive, ancient old churches and predominantly white or pale buildings. We had lunch of a meat platter and burrata salad washed down with a couple of glasses of chilled Pinot Gris in Martina Franca and chocolate ice creams with a view in Locorotondo. Like a progressive dinner. But for lunch. On bicycles. Our little, suspension-free, electric bikes are not the perfect machines for long distance cruising on uneven roads but they do the job and it was (mostly) a very enjoyable 40km in the saddle.

On our onward journey from Alberobello we stopped at another very scenic, hilltop, white, ancient village, Ostuni.

A brief hour and a half’s wander was sufficient to appretiate its charms, including sampling its local, sweet, custard-filled delicacy, Pasticotti. It was very warm (27 dec C) and rather than staying here for the night, we decided to escape the hoards and the heat and headed to the nearby coast.

Here we found a beach side, free parking spot in a small faded seaside resort called Specchiolla and had what was probably our final sunbathe on the beach/dip-in-the-sea experience of the season.

This was slightly marred by an unpleasant interaction with a mother and young daughter who not-so-subtley sidled up to our bag on the beach whilst we were in the water. Their complete incompetance as thieves gave me opportunity to dash out of the water like a charging hippo and confront them before they could make off with Nick’s phone and my underwear. Their feeble ‘what us?’ expressions and whatever the f**k bullshit Italian excuses they mumbled not convincing me as to their innocent intentions. We moved a significant distance down the beach and kept our beady eyes on them. This has been our only disagreeable experience with people in 6 months, so not bad going.

The next day we made our final push south towards the town of Lecce, into the heel of the Italy’s boot. We didn’t make it all the way there, feeling that we probably had seen plenty of old and beautiful towns for the time being, instead heading for a place in the middle of nowhere. Parco Naturale Regionale Bosco e Paludi di Rauccio. This was not a random destination. This was Friday and the place was the site of a Parkrun tomorrow morning. The road here took us through many more olive groves that looked different from the others. The fat-trunked, elderly, ‘grandfather’ olive trees had all been cut back, removing all the branches containing foliage. Some had had time to resprout, others were still naked. Scattered amongst these groves were newly planted ones. I found out later that this pollarding was to try and salvage trees affected by disease. Sometimes it works, sometimes the trees succumb and need replacing.

The last 2km of the road was gravel with deep pot-holes, giving everything in the cupboards, and us, a good old rattle. There may have been some expletives from the ‘non-Parkrunning’ member of our contingent as we bounced down the track. It was worth it though, when we arrived at the deserted parking area which was in the middle of a peaceful swathe of olive trees and scrub land. Nearby was a lesser used picnic area with a few overgrown facilities and initially it felt a bit like the setting for the opening scene of an episode of CSI where exploring teenagers make a grizzly discovery. The reality was that this was a supremely peaceful spot that we only shared with one other (distantly parked) camper that night. There was a beautiful sunset, lots of wildlife noises, and aside from a few pesky mosquitos, was one of our favourite camping spots of the trip.

It was also the location for mainland Europe’s most southerly and most remote (ie furthest from another Parkrun) Parkrun. The start line was a very convienient 10 metres from where were were camping and although it was 11 km from the main civilisation of Lecce, it attracted a field of about 12 people, half of which were British/Irish tourists. This was a gem of an event run by the very friendly Saverio, with his mum as the only other volunteer and official cake baker. The after-run breakfast of cakes and pastries was fully attended by the participants as barcode scanning did not happen until after we had all assembled and had a plate of sweet treats in our hands. One British couple have a second home in Italy 110km away and come every week they are here to do this run, supplying baked goods too. An Irish, Parkrun-committed, holidaying couple paid a taxi driver to bring them here from their accomodation 50km away, to wait for them and take them back again. Got to admire the passion!

At about 11am, with blood sugar levels running high and much post-run chat under our belts we said our goodbyes and headed off. Our day’s journey took us past the port-city of Taranto and into the region of Basilicata where it was immediately obvious that the attitudes to litter and the investment into keeping the place tidy were very different than in Puglia. It was a relief. Our next destination was the ‘jewel’ of Matera.

Noteable not just for the fact that it was a set location for an epic car chase in the most recent Bond movie, No Time To Die, this is Italy’s oldest, and possibly the world’s third oldest, continuously occupied settlement, there being evidence of habitation here since about 7000 years ago. The original people made their homes in natural limestone caves in the sides of the gorge of the Gravina river and countless subsequent generations dug more caves, embellished and elaborated original caves and created a village clinging to the gorge sides, complete with cave churches, homes and businesses.

The caves, or sassi, were mostly single room dwellings and the living conditions of the people occupying them into the middle of the 20th century were dire compared to the improving standards of modern life. They were deemed to be the ‘Shame of Italy’ and the sassi dwellers were removed from their homes.

Recent decades have seen the gentrification of the sassi areas and such was the turn around in its fortunes it is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site and a magnet for those hunting an achingly beautiful and intensely interesting place to visit and stay.

It is a very special spot that is difficult to do justice to with our snaps. Search out better ones on line, or even better, come here yourself. Avoid the summer months and definitely stay for sunset. It was even more beautiful as the light fell and the lights came on. Around every corner there was another view, a busker playing beautiful music and a narrow lane leading to another set of steps and another view. It was gorgeous.

There was the expected crowds of daytrippers and but we found a very stylish little hotel bar away from the mêlée for a sit down and a drink. Initially this was on their terrace and then we moved inside as it cooled down. The small foyer/breakfast room/lounge area was a renovated, white-washed cave dwelling no longer displaying any of the poverty that was of such concern in the 1950s. We were quite taken with the space and decided that it would be a perfect spot for a private party.

As we travel around Italy we are building our fantasy future itinerary. Where would we return to if we were to fly in and travel around in a convertible hire car? So far Venice was the only place firmly on the list. Matera has just been added.

And to finish off, a few other random snaps to share…