Puglia is Trulli Magical
Stepping into our breakfast room this morning was like walking into the pages of a Vogue Living magazine. Everything was in cute little baskets and jars with hanpainted brown paper labels tied on with string. It was just beautiful (and tasted good too!)
Sad to leave our little oasis amongst the olive trees, we piled out bags into our little car - affectionately now known as “Zoe”- to explore more of the Puglia region.
Once again, I had my gun navigator onboard as we followed the map, around way too many back-to-front roundabouts, to the little town of Ostuni. The speed limit was just 50km/h for most of the trip and signs warned us to watch out for cows on the road. Most of the other warning signs were a bit cryptic, with colours and Italian writing, we had no idea what we were being warned about but just remained on high alert for impending obstacles. It’s hard to not automatically give way in the wrong direction, constantly having to remember that turning right, you’re not crossing traffic. (Molly was good at reminding me!) I also found I was using my left side mirror much more than my rear-vision mirror, only because I’m used to the mirror being on the left.
Nearly all the houses in Ostuni are painted white and the main streets are lined with pink oleander trees and pots of colourful flowers everywhere. They had some great shops to browse; the town set on the side of a hill. Every street on the low side of town had wide, white steps leading up to the top streets. It was such a cute place.
Next, we drove to the very unique UNESCO heritage listed and Instagram famous village of Alberobello, the home of the fairytale trulli houses. The white, squat, round houses with their grey, pointy rooves, that look like little Noddy hats, are so cool. Walking the streets feels almost surreal, like a movie set for a kids’ movie about fairies or trolls. If you had a hankering for a souvenir of your visit, you’d be spoilt for choice. Literally every second hut was filled to the brim with magnets, key rings, “My dad went to Alberabello & all I got was this lousy shirt” t-shirts and other tacky keepsakes. Amongst the cheap and nasty though, were some real artisans, making gorgeous hand-painted ceramics, hand-sewn crafts and clothes. We met larger-than-life (but tiny) Maria, who had been working the loom, creating beautiful linen for 61 years. Maria’s shop also had the largest collection of hand painted whistles in the world, shelves of brightly coloured creations numbering in the 9000s! At first, we were wondering where all the whistles were but then when we turned everything around, a little blowhole in the back of each of the little statues was revealed. The tiny, grey haired Italian matriarch, stood in the doorway giving whistle-blowing demonstrations, twittering like a bird and delighting the onlookers. She was a character.
Another local we met was little Louis Flavio, a preschooler munching on a tomato. He had a little toy sports car he was hooning around in while his protective Nonna watched on. He and Molly really hit it off after she rescued his dropped tomato from rolling down the hill.
After Alberobello, we took Zoe for a spin towards the coast to our destination for the night, Polignano A Mare. We thought we were staying in a hotel but the address took us to an unmarked building with green shutters on the windows. A quick call to our friendly host Antonio, confirmed we were in the right place and he was there in a jiffy to show us around, arm us with a detailed map and give us the rundown on everything we needed to do and see. His enthusiasm for his village was infectious and he certainly loved a chat. Antonio informed us that different coloured lines along the kerb indicate who can park where. As it turns out, I’d parked in a locals-only car spot so Antonio told us he’d grab his “moto” and “explore where you cann-a park-a”. Sure enough, a helmeted Antonio promptly puttered round the corner on his Vesper and beckoned us to follow him until he’d found us the perfect place to plonk our little car. Talk about going above and beyond. The temperature nudging 30 again, we were keen to get wet, so we suited up and made our way across the bridge and down the steps to the rocky beach tucked between two cliffs below. Antonio had warned us not to expect soft sand and that the large pebbles were “not comfortable”. He was spot on. Wearing my thongs all the way to the shore line, I “outch!”-ed my way across the bumpy rocks into the water. Molly obviously has tougher tootsies than her mum, making the whole process look like a breeze. The water was divine; clear and aqua blue ripples washing over us as we glided over the mossy stones below. I couldn’t see any fish but didn’t have my glasses on. Molly assured me they were present and accounted for.
Polignano is known for its spectacular cliffs and caves and we had the coolest experience, swimming through a big cave -in one side, around a corner and out the other. I have swum in a couple of caves before but not like this. It was a huge expanse; a fair dinkum room in the sea. We were getting in touch with our inner mermaid. It was incredible! It was a case of ‘sun’s out bums out’ at this cliffside beach. Molly and I felt a tad overdressed in the bottom department, our two derrières possibly the only ones fully clad, at least on this stretch of the Italian coast.
It seems the whole village of Polignano A Mare comes out of the woodwork at night. The joint was jumping. For a Wednesday night, we were astounded at how many people were out and about. Lots of residents, particularly older women, pop a plastic chair on the footpath outside their houses just so they can watch what’s going on and chat to passers by. We had some tasty pizzas seated outdoors in the wide marble-tiled piazza, where groups of men, of all ages, gathered to chew the fat. It was so nice to see. A big impressive archway leads into the old town, filled with fairy lights, buskers and street artists. All the shops were open for business and doing a roaring trade.
Strolling to the cliff edge tonight, we were greeted by a worried crowd, lined up along the railing, gazing below to a boat that seemed to be stuck. The wooden vessel had eight passengers onboard, including kids, and the captain was shouting up to everyone in Italian. We all watched on eagerly as the drama unfolded with Police Rescue guys showing up. After a lengthy wait, the boat’s motor shuddered into action and they disappeared into a cave below the bridge, out of view. People were all chatting animatedly about the incident but unfortunately it was all in Italian, so we were none the wiser about what eventuated. Hopefully they were all OK.
We love that in Europe, all the church doors are left open for people to have a peek inside. The church at Polignano A Mare was suitably ornate inside with numerous paintings and statues adorning the walls. The little cherubs all had golden private parts and curiously, a skull and cross-bones was painted on the floor. Maybe buried treasure lies beneath?
The great singer Domenico Modugno, whose claim to fame was his famous song ‘Volare’, was a "polignanese", this town’s local hero, who was able to export the music, along with the proud culture and traditions of Italian music to the world. They truly love him here and not only is there a huge statue of the great man, an entire street is dedicated his world-wide smash hit - the lyrics of ‘Volare’ strung across the street in neon lights.
As we wandered around, enjoying the atmosphere of the warm night, strains of ‘Volare’ could be heard in different streets, on sax, piano accordion and piano; revellers singing along loudly in accompaniment. As we hit the pillow tonight, it hummed in our heads - that song will forever remind us of this magical place.
