Puglia

What now? Not Genoa after all, even though that had been the plan? Nope. Something different for once, as if that was not what I usually do anyway. And yes, I have been to Puglia before, more precisely northern Puglia: Foggia, Vieste, Manfredonia, Peschici and the Gargano National Park. Back then by bike. Afterwards I turned west, towards Naples. It was March then, and even back then I was already enchanted by the villages and the picturesque little towns. If you want to read about it again, you can find it right at the beginning of this blog. Back when I still thought I was a happily married man taking some time out on a bike trip, only to return home and live happily ever after with his wife. A lot has happened in recent years, and slowly it is time for me to start behaving in a way appropriate for my age. I mean, the celebrations for my fiftieth birthday have now been going on for one and a half years, and the most substantial midlife crisis should slowly be coming to an end. A question, though: where is the damn Porsche a man is apparently supposed to get?

Anyway, my life would be nothing without the turns it has taken over the past few years. I have rarely been bored, and I have learned a lot. So, Puglia? How did I end up with that idea? The story starts a little before the last blog post. I was standing at the Colosseum, two days after my birthday, with the Palatine behind me, waiting for sunset. I was taking pictures of people taking pictures of themselves. Street photography, really. I was having fun until a young woman suddenly asked me in English whether I could, or would like to, take a photo of her. So I did. Very happily, in fact. And when I look at those pictures now, I have rarely taken more beautiful ones in my life. It was the subject.

We started chatting a little, and the chatting lasted for hours. Down through the Roman Forum, up the Capitoline, across the Circus Maximus, along the Palatine and then by metro back to Termini. Dinner at La Matriciana, then back to the Colosseum. All while the final was on. The 1:0 in extra time? Please. The sparrows had been singing it from the rooftops long before the final whistle. I did not watch a second of that spectacle. Shortly before midnight, we were standing in front of the Colosseum again, and because it would be her birthday in a few minutes, we stayed a little longer. I will not tell other people’s stories here, but I think she is perhaps as sad as I am. Maybe she deals with her loneliness better than I do, at least from time to time. We have the same hobbies, photography and travelling, although she does both of them much better than I do, so there was plenty to talk about. The next morning, early, very early, she was going on to Puglia, more precisely to Bari. I walked her home, and before I headed back to my accommodation at two in the morning, I had her phone number.

The next morning, after just a few hours of sleep, I actually wanted to go to Genoa. But at Termini I booked a train to where? Well, where do you think? Bari! And since I rarely go unnoticed, I got a message quite quickly after posting something on Instagram. “Sooooo, you’re in my region.” My dear colleague Anna, who now works back home in Bari, got in touch almost immediately. That made me really happy, and we arranged to have coffee the following day after work. Her work, not mine. Back then, Anna was the only person in our incompetent bunch who knew what she was doing. If only they had supported her more, instead of forcing her into something else. Suddenly, I was really looking forward to it. I like it when people see that I am in their part of the world and write to me. I would never do that myself. I do not want to impose on anyone, but if somebody comes to me like that? Absolutely!

Isn’t it nice to be welcomed like that? So appreciated! That is why I will spare us the story of accommodation so filthy that even I rejected it, the search for somewhere else, and the walk through Bari’s old town. One thing is a must, an absolute must: le nonne, the grandmothers, or rather the women of Bari Vecchia, who make and sell orecchiette outside their houses on Strada delle Orecchiette, Via Arco Basso. And somehow I was exhausted. I am not getting any younger, after all, so I made myself a little plan. Monopoli tomorrow, then a day in Bari, then on to Naples via Matera. That was the plan.

One WhatsApp message later, I was sitting down to dinner at ten the following evening with the woman I had met in Rome, after my visit to Monopoli and meeting Anna in Bari. Spaghetti all’assassina, another Puglian speciality, or is it really a Bari one? Thank you Anna! My plan? Well, what can I say? The following morning, i walked through Matera, an incredible city of rock caves and, you know, a great many stairs. Since I am fitter again, the 35 degrees Celsius were annoying, but I spent the whole day taking pictures. And of course, we took the bus there and back. Then, believe it or not, i continued on to Alberobello to look at trulli and all that. After two days in this little town, all I can say is this: I am so grateful that someone pulled me out of my usual Italian routine and dropped me right in the middle of Puglia. It is absolutely enchanting here, and I am really enjoying the time.

In that sense.