springtime in Italy...love is in the air (crust)
In semi-honor of my birthday, and full honor of Ryan Air allowing us to fly from Valencia to Bari and back for €20, we hit up Puglia, the heel of Italy's boot. Billie had a few days off for a Mallorcan holiday, and I negotiated with the teachers that I work with to get a few days off, so we were able to fly out on a Thursday night and stay until Tuesday afternoon. We had actually been to Bari before, at the end of our travels following my last long trip to Spain, but this was a chance to see and taste more of the region. We arrived at 10.30pm, found our hotel with no problem, and the next morning awoke, killed some time, rented a car, and then went to the airport to pick it up. We were given the choice of two Fiats, the cumbersome and ugly Panda, and the fashionable and nimble 500 (pronounced Chinkwa-chento, with hand gesticulating furiously) By 3.30 we were on the road in what we'd soon call "The Pebble" -- small, round, and easy to toss around curves. And by 3.35 we were already having panic attacks due to the pressures of driving in Italy.
the Pebble, surviving the rain
In Spain, roundabouts are generally large in diameter, with one or two signs posted well in advance of the intersections to clearly describe where each exit leads. Once you enter the roundabout, the exits are labeled with large, simple, easy to read signs listing the major cities in that direction. In Italy, the fun begins about 20 feet before the roundabout. There, one finds a set of at least a dozen signs, arrows pointing in every direction, listing all of the local restaurants, hotels, bathrooms, gas stations, shoe stores, sidewalks, and mailboxes, complete with small icons and font effects. Of course, these signs are in the same color and shape as the real city signs. Immediately behind those signs (close enough to be obscured by them) are the actual signs for the cities/roundabout exits. But its not just one or two cities, nor just major cities. The entire region is listed on each sign, making finding your true destination (while traveling at 30 mph) impossible. Add to all of this the fact that it is all written in a language I don't understand, three people are honking, and apparently the driver's ed instructional video "how not to stay in your lane" is being filmed all the time, it was enough to make me want to do a few laps around the roundabout until I coasted to a stop in the center, softly pouting and moaning "Mamma Mia!"
Instead Billie took hold of the map and got us out of there in a hurry. In a few moments the dust had cleared and we were on our way to our first destination, the town of Matera.
Matera by night
Matera was pretty awesome. We found a "tourist information" office that was just a dude in a garage with some old maps, but he knew of a B&B that was a little pricey, but offered a nice room with a pretty amazing balcony and some delicious breakfast. The town was originally just a series of caves that were inhabited by the region's poorest families, and as the town grew bigger the caves began to be filled up, and eventually homes were carved into the gorges and cliffs nearby. The resulting village is an incredible mumble-jumble of streets and stairs, with the complete chaos of the layout juxtaposed with the uniform natural grey of the buildings themselves.
We spent the afternoon walking around and exploring, wrapped up with a delicious pair of pizzas -- a traditional margherita (mozzarella, basil, and tomato) and one of my favorites: arugula, parmesan, and proscuitto on tomato sauce and mozarella (pictured at the top of this post). The pizzas were delicious, as expected, and the night offered a different view of the city from on high. The next morning we hung out for a bit more, drove around the city, and then headed off.
We hit a few more towns up in the course of the day. Next was Alberobello, a town noteworthy for its abundance of trulli. Trulli, for those who don't know, are small rounded huts that for some reason are plentiful in Puglia. There was nothing else of note in the town, and the trulli themselves were only so interesting, so we moved on after about an hour of trulling/looking for a bathroom.
A cluster of trulli
After Alberobello we hit up another tiny town, Locorotundo. It was not notable for its trulli nor its horsemeat (generally a Puglian specialty) but instead just for being a nice little town. We struggled to find an open restaurant for lunch, and then walked around the town. The day's main event in Locorotundo was apparently a funeral, which (as fans of either the Godfather or southern Italian funerals would know) involves a little parade, led by a small marching band playing some of the most somber, mournful, moping little collection of ditties. Just looking at the trumpeter having a coffee afterwards made me want to cry rivers, although that would have been more useful in Spain, where the rivers all seem to be drying up. We took some pictures and hopped back in the car.
The next stop was the slightly larger town/small city of Martina Franca. We arrived in time for the B&B we had hoped to stay at to be full, and we were referred to a gentleman who led us to a dingy room with a tiny bathroom that he'd let us stay at for €40. Not a bad price, but we probably should have kept looking, as the dinginess didn't go away. Nevertheless, we walked around town for the rest of the evening, checking out the old city and watching the citizens take their strolls through the center. We killed some time before the restaurant we wanted to eat at opened, and we were the first ones in. A few hours later, and after a great meal (ending in a shot of grappa, one drop of which is probably strong enough to knock out a herd of buffalo) we headed to the dingy dormitorio. The next morning we got some breakfast and hit the road.
The Artist's Association in Martina Franca
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