Travelling through the spine of Italy, we felt dwarfed by the majestic high mountains of the Apennines all about us and awed by the long tunnels that we drove  through – some a couple of kilometres -blinking back into the sunlight. There were fruit and veg roadside stalls as soon as we came down from the mountains selling plums, tomatoes, peppers and huge peaches. Our first glimpse of the Adriatic Sea was a gorgeous glittering  turquoise in the distance just south of Pescara.

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The road from here hugged the coast and we used Google search to find any campsites.  One looked promising, direct access to the beach, good reviews and not too far away as we were flagging despite the caffeine stops. La Foce campsite was a big shaded area – slightly dusty and run-down – but was deserted apart from two camper vans, a few cats asleep in the sun outside the office and pomegranates falling from a tree near the shower block. A woman finally appeared, welcomed us saying that we could put our tent wherever we liked -Italians are so expressive that we find ourselves understanding the language (in context at least). The campsite bar and pizzeria were closed for the season which didn’t bother us too much as we (meaning me) concocted a one-pot pasta dish using the fresh veg that we had bought by the roadside (feeling thrifty and healthy – we’re going to make this lump sum and pension last!!)

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If you look at the map of Italy, there’s a pimple (or a spur) on the east coast called Promontorio de Gargano or just Gargano. We had heard great reports of this region so we went in that direction but as we drove along a flat soul-less area without villages or houses where prostitutes were on the road looking for business_ at noon_ from the many truckkies barreling along the road (at first we thought the women might be fruit sellers but their dancing to attract attention soon left us in no doubt).

The scenery improved as we drove along the early northern part of the peninsula by the salt water lagoons with their pinky flamingos and olive groves and the mountain shadows of the interior. But on this gloriously sunny day in late September, it was like a ghost area  with hotels, campsites and holiday homes boarded up for the winter_ padlocked gates, shuttered windows, waterslides wrapped in tarpaulin. The few open campsitess we didn’t like – too deserted, too neat, too like a holiday park. We needed to get less fussy and luckily, that was when we found Isola Bella campsite. Caoimhin bargained so hard with Giuseppe, the manager that we even got a little bungalow for not much more than the price of camping😜 We went in search of somewhere to eat but everywhere in both directions were closed so no option but  to cook – how sad in a country renowned for its wonderful food🙄  In the campsite, we met a lovely Kiwi couple who were intrigued by the Irish number plates on the Guzzler. They were cycling around Europe with a tent (much madder than us) and were almost at the end of their three months. They would have to spend two weeks in a hotel isolating back home. They were actually lucky to get the hotel slot  – there was 2400 people on a waiting list looking for a hotel slot to get back into New Zealand.

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The Gargano lived up to its promise – we discovered gorgeous ‘proper’ towns further along the peninsula – San Manaio, Peschici and Vieste – with people and bustle and also  ATMs – everyone wanted cash in Italy (unlike Spain) and funnily enough, card machines were rarely working.  We turned inland, climbing high to the magical heart of the peninsula with its ancient forests spending a day, hiking in the  Foresta Umbra in woods of oak, beech and holly.   It was cooler than the coast but with gorgeous dappled light, silent except for birdsong, the crackling of twigs, leaves falling. There was a lake with little turtles sunning themselves on rocks, sliding into the lake waters with soft ripples when they sensed us  Honestly, a real  ‘Good for the soul’ place.

Talking of souls, we visited an amazing cemetery in the mountains – we had driven past cemeteries before but this one was so huge, we had to stop. It resembled a real town but with more flowers and no washing. Sometimes in the narrow streets of Italian towns, the predominant smell was the fabric softener/detergent from all the washing shrewrn over balconies. In the cemetery, the multi-story rows of concrete vaults were so like the apartments blocks that in life and death, Italians occupy similar buildings. Of course some vaults were bigger and more ornate than others and some had entire sections vaults dedicated to a particular family but dust to dust…

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Before we left Gargano, we booked our ferry to Greece going from Bari to Patras in Greece _there were so many ferry routes from Italy to Greece that it was hard to decide. But booking six days in advance is very forward planning for us.

Down the coast Barletta  seemed like a convenient stop for one night.  We booked a room on Booking.com about an hour before we arrived – Villa Helios – and stayed in a very comfortable green room – even the clothes hangers were green. It was great to be staying in a town for a change and Barletta was full of restaurants and history – the Carthaginians and Romans did battle here (Hannibal emerged victorious), there’s a huge Norman Castle – had its heyday at the time of the crusades, and the last Protestants were burnt at the stake here in 1866 (we were shocked by the date).

  Breakfast was included – a token for a local cafe that got us a coffee and a cornetto (Cornetto in Italian is  a croissant -we thought we were getting ice cream!) Maybe not the healthiest way to start the day but when in Rome (or Barletta)….

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The power of a photograph lured us south (past Bari) almost to the heel of Italy to Grotto del Poesia  (translates as Poetry Cave), a natural swimming hole in a karst limestone region in the Salento Coast. How could we resist such a name? Caoimhin was determined to swim in its turquoise waters once he had seen its image online. The Poetry Cave was more than a swimming hole, it was also on an archaelogogy site – and there was a charge of €3 to go into the area. We had to produce a green pass – a first. The ironic thing was that the man asking us for the cert wasn’t even wearing a mask.

 Booking.com found us a place to stay nearby although it was a Saturday afternoon – a lovely one-bed apartment with a huge veranda on an olive farm. Fernando, the host, was so welcoming, gave us  tomatoes, chilli peppers and a bottle of his own olive oil. We used the complimentary bikes to cycle through the olive groves to the beaches and to the pub (well to the beach bar to watch the sun go down_ this is Italy after all).  

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The entire Selento coast was unexpectedly gorgeous with hundreds of little coves, fabulous coastal walking, the clearest water that I have ever seen and also the gentlest with only soft ripples. The water was also shallow – great for nervous nellies like me who get panicky when out of their depth. And there was good snorkeling.

And the stunning coast wasn’t the only attraction. We stood outside the cathedral in Otranto in the blazing sun waiting for it to open…and we weren’t alone. The attraction? 800 skulls in glass cabinets behind the altar, martyrs who were beheaded by the Ottomans in 1480 for refusing to give up their Christian faith. 

                                    

A visit to a disused bauxite mine with its ochre earth and emerald green water was a photo op that Caoimhin couldn’t resist🤣

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And then there was dazzling Lecce,  sometimes called the Florence of the south, a town that we had never heard of until this week.  This was a town  with  a spiders web of streets and a riot of extravagantly decorated  buildings (Baroque on steroids), made from the local soft creamy limestone. The town’s motto could have been – enough is never enough. And then there were the little old ladies of Lecce, local women who wanted to chat and welcome us. We asked a waitress to take a photo of us and a passing old lady stopped to wish us luck and chat about her life – see photo above.(I know that I’m almost a ‘little old lady’ myself but these women were a great template for sprightly, confident old age)

And almost before we wanted, it was time to leave Italy – our phones had already given us ‘Welcome to Greece’ messages even while we were still in Italy. We will miss it – the stunning scenery, the olive groves, the dusty sun baked-ness of the south, the warmth of the days but especially the warmth of the people. Just time for one more gelato (not to be confused with a cornetto)…..