Yours trulli

Alberobello was a must see en route back and I for one was super excited!  Before leaving the UK we'd watched a few episodes of Italy Unpacked with Giorgo Locatelli and Andrew Graham-Dixon and this picturesque little town had been on their itinerary.  A trullo, plural trulli, is an ancient circular stone dwelling with a conical roof, sometimes adorned with symbols of mystical or religious significance, peculiar to this part of Puglia.  We'd read different stories about their origins, although it seems that they've been around for many hundreds of years, primarily as farm dwellings to begin with, and were easy to build and adapt into groupings when the need arose for more space.  They certainly have a startling effect on the landscape when seen en masse, and Alberobello has the highest concentration of them.  Many are still inhabited, or used as businesses, although few of the existing ones are any more than a few hundred years old and some recently built or renovated.

As we drove into the area, we began to see the occasional trullo by the side of the road, some as individual buildings and some incorporated into bigger houses.  This area is lovely, with many other villages to return to.  We drove through Martina Franca, then passed by Locorotondo,  a confection of a tiered white village which looked beautiful, and we had also heard of Ostuni nearby as a place to wander.

For us though, time was marching on and after the somewhat stressful day of brake replacement we were looking forward to a bed for the night! Again, we were lucky and found a lovely little campsite, Bosco Selva, a walkable 1km up the road from Alberobello.  The camperstop in the village proved to be a tad pricey at €18 to park in a tiny unshaded carpark for 24 hours with the only facility being a refill/drain for water and waste wheras for just €20 we had a lovely shaded pitch in the woods, a modern sanitary block with hot showers, free wifi and a free map of the village.  We'd definitely recommend this site if you're visiting the area.

Walking around the trulli next day was magical, and although the village is obviously a tourist attraction it's very low key, and none of the invitations to look inside a shop feel pressured in any way.  In fact I'd say go in and take a look, as some have terraces with wonderful views across the town and the owners will tell you about the history of their individual trullo.  We were extra fortunate in that it was market day too and for lunch we sat outside with our takeaway stuffed foccacias, followed by the inevitable gelato, and watched the world go by.

Our final stop in Italy was to be a beach treat, and we'd chosen a stretch of coast near the Gargano peninsula.  This area looks very picturesque but with an imminent departure we'd decided to stay on the straight stretch near Manfredonia.  We made more food discoveries en route, including a ricotta in jars called ' Ricotta Forte' - my mouth took a while a recover from that one - this is ricotta allowed to spoil, under controlled conditions, and then sold as a delicacy.  It certainly packed a punch!! Less challenging were the pale green round cucumbers, barattieri I think they were called, around the size of a small melon and pale green in colour - picture below - any more info on these appreciated as the little I've found online; a couple of pictures and recipes/information, is all in Italian. And of course, more figs, some of the best we'd ever tasted, which we bought at the campsite shop. 

The site we chose, Camping Lido Salpi ticked all the boxes, small, good facilities, the promise of a peaceful night's sleep as it was well away from the road and any houses, and an ACSI bargain at €12 a night.  The beach was pretty decent too, with a well run concession, clean and not too busy but again a good illustration of clean in front of the site and a mess just beyond. . . . . .

This campsite also has parking for the lido/concession and gets pretty busy with the locals at the weekends, which may be why the dinner dance on the Saturday night went on until past 1am . . . Warning bells rang when a coachload of revellers turned up at 10:30pm!!  Ah well, Friday night was quiet.

Next morning we headed off, suitably sunned but a little bleary eyed, ready for the long trek north into France.

J.