Prologue

Karen and I haven't been to Italy since 2001. Since that time, we very much wanted to return. Our last trip in 2001 was in northern Italy; Tuscany, Bologna, Cinque Terre. This time we wanted to explore a different region of Italy. Our research dug up Puglia, the heel of Italy which sticks out into the Adriatic Sea and Ionian Sea. We thought it would be ideal as it is off the beaten path and has few American tourists. Puglia is known as a world class wine region and proudly serves "peasant food" featuring local vegetables and homemade pasta.

We did our research and booked our trip. Four days in Puglia and three days in Rome. Karen was being a good sport since she had been to Rome twice before but I wanted to see the sites in Rome at least once. We would leave Oct 30th, right after the close of the Richmond Farmers' Market.

As the trip grew nearer, Karen and I read a bunch books about southern Italy. Guidebooks like Lonely Planet and Rick Steves' Rome guide gave us a basic understanding of the major site seeing attractions we would want to hit and helped us flesh out an itinerary. Other books like Stolen Figs, the story of a New Yorker trying to connect with his southern Italian roots gave us a feel for the culture of the area. My favorite book was Carlos Levi's "Christ Stopped at Eboli." Levi told the story of how he was exiled to Basilicata as a political prisoner by the fascists. The book was made into a movie in 1979 and won an Oscar as best foreign film. Mel Gibson was inspired by the movie and shot "The Passion of the Christ" in Basilicata. After seeing "Christ Stopped at Eboli" I learned that Puglia has a fine cinematic tradition. But, films are shot in the native Puglian dialect and when released in Italy, use subtitles. We were going to a region where even Italians didn't understand the locals!

I pretty much gave up studying Italian after learning this, but Karen pulled out her Italian textbooks and studied for several weeks leading up to our trip. But, then another project took over her time; dual citizenship. Karen can trace her family roots back to the hill towns outside of Naples. The Italian government allows individuals meeting certain criteria to apply for dual citizenship. People with dual American/Italian citizenship can easily travel throughout Europe for extended periods and even work in the EU.

Day 1 - Getting There

The first leg of our trip is a non stop flight from Boston to Rome. Most transatlantic flight from the US are red eye. You lose 5-6 hours flying to Europe and the flight time is 7-8 hours, so if you leave at 6pm you will arrive sometime around 7am the next morning. The key is to sleep on the plane so you can stay awake the next day and not fall into a jet lag cycle where you are exhausted by 8pm and can't go out at night an enjoy a late dinner with Europeans instead of a 5pm dinner with tourists.

On the plane, Karen slept like a baby while I could not. I read my book "Christ Stopped at Eboli" and was enlightened by all the things that were in the book but not the movie. Once in Rome, we head to the passport checkpoint. Americans expect lines and order at our official checkpoints, but lines, like using your turn signal in Rhode Island, are merely a suggestion in Italy. The phrase "every man for himself" comes to mind. Dazed from no sleep and a backpack to weigh us down, we were pushed and shoved every minute of the 1 1/2 hours we waited to get our passport stamped.

Once through the checkpoint, we head to our connecting flight to Brindisi. Luckily, the gate number is on the ticket as none of the departure screens list our flight. While waiting for our flight, I notice several your men wearing identical track suits with the crest of the Lecce Futbol (Soccer) Club. Some call Futbol the national pastime of Italy. National obsession is more like it. This futbol frenzy was well rewarded in 2006 when Italy won the World Cup. Karen and I have enjoyed watching futbol since the '02 World Cup and really became fans when we visited Spain and saw the excitement surrounding Barcalona FC. Their best player, Ronaldhino, was the '05 FIFA Player of the Year and you couldn't go more than 50 feet in Barcalona without seeing something for sale with his image on it. Everything from coffee mugs to refrigerator magnets to women's underwear were plastered with his perpetually smiling face. Ronaldhino rewarded people of Catalonia that year with a Spanish Championship and a European Championship.

Knowing we were going to Italy during Futbol season, we brushed up on our Seria A Futbol (the top league in Italy). Much to our delight, Ronaldhino is now on AC Milan, though injuries had slowed Brazil's best player in recent years. Leaving Barcelona had left Spanish fans bitter, saying he only signed for the money (think Roger Clemens leaving the Red Sox to play for Toronto) and was a traitor (how could he be a traitor when he was Brazilian, not Spanish). Many Spanish fans feel vindicated by Ronadhino's perceived struggles since leaving Barcalona, but every time I have seen him he is still his same smiling self, obviously loving just to play the game.

Futbol has several levels in Italy like minor league baseball in the US. Unlike baseball, players don't move up the levels in Italian Futbol, teams do. So, for example, if a team wins Serie B one year, they play in Serie A the next. For years, Lecce had been mired in Serie B, but this year they were playing with the big boys in Serie A. In fact, in the 80 plus years of Serie A play, Lecce had only completed in Serie A 14 seasons. For 2010-11, Leece sits in 16th place out of 20 teams and is in danger of dropping back to Serie B next year. Lecce fared poorly in the game we watched in the states, losing 4-0 to the high powered offense of Juventus.
Seeing a top futbol team, waiting in the terminal and flying economy class, taking the same puddle jumper to Brindisi seemed strange. Imagine sitting next to Tom Brady on a flight from Chicago to Boston after he just threw three touchdowns to beat the Bears. Even though Lecce had just lost to Roma (one of the top teams in Serie A) kids still posed for pictures with their heroes while their smiling fathers worked the camera.

I had felt a little queasy landing in Rome, but attributed it to airline food and lack of sleep. By the time I got on the connecting flight, I broke out in a flop sweat and started to shake from chills. The plane was still on the ground, but I asked the flight attendant if I could use the bathroom, knowing the answer. I had to wait, he apologized. Apparently sensing my discomfort, he moved me to a vacant row and handed me a stack of airline sickness bags (how much vomit did he expect to come out of me?) and napkins. Momentarily settled, I fell asleep.
Upon approach, the plane hit turbulence and, try as I might, I lost my lunch in one of the heretofore provided airsickness bags. Every drop in the bag, I wiped my mouth and tried to fold the bag as neatly as possible and placed it on the unoccupied seat next to me. By now, the plane is stopped and passengers are deplaning. We waiting until everyone got off the plane, I got our bags and left the plane apologizing to everyone who met my gaze, including the pilot.

Day 2 – Lost in Lecce

Getting a car rental in Brindisi was fairly easy. Karen had made the reservation in the US saving us a lot of money and I only had to show my passport and US driver’s license, not the International Driver’s License I bought at AAA. Karen had smartly purchased and international GPS for our trip. We plugged in our location and sped off. Luckily, twenty years of driving in Rhode Island prepared me well for the many roundabouts in Italy. I didn’t see any speed limit signs on the Autostrada, so I kept it at about 120 kilometers per hour. For some folks that was way too fast so I passed them at a speed that must have looked like a blur. Other drivers came up on my tail out of nowhere doing well over 90mph. Just like home, except Italians only use the left lane for passing.

We encountered our first problem when the GPS told us to take an exit several miles before our town of Lecce. Not questioning the all knowing GPS we did as we were told and promptly found ourselves in the middle of nowhere. Turning left and right, mindlessly following technology, we stumbled on our first great find in Puglia. A castle. Following a dirt road and parking for a moment soaking in the crumbling castle, beer bottles are stacked on the façade and weeds have overgrown the grounds. This is a forgotten spot. Leaving, we tried to find out hotel with no success. Frustrated, I pulled out the guidebook and saw that our hotel was on Via Lombardia, not Via Lombardi.

Arriving at our hotel, it is locked up tight. The sign said check in is not until 4pm, three hours away. Karen and I decided to walk to the old town of Lecce with no idea where we are going. Baroque Lecce as it is known, has the most ornate architecture you’ve ever seen. More about that later. But, all these buildings were constructed using the local limestone. It is very soft, which makes it easy to carve. But, that also means it is susceptible to deterioration. Just running your hand over the limestone, you can feel the dust on your fingers.

The center of most Italian medieval towns is the Duomo. In Lecce, the Piazza del Duomo has a huge belltower and the church at the piazza has a fantastic façade. Inside, there are at least six alters but you can’t take pictures so you will have to take my word that the interior is amazing. Confession takes place almost in the open where the sinner kneels in plain sight and confesses his sins to the priest hidden in a box.

We grabbed lunch at a café on the piazza. Our waitress was a blonde woman, probably a student at the local university, who was very unsure of her English. But, she spoke well and reminded us twice that they could make anything on the menu “vegetariano” for us. We each had a Panini with local Primitivo wine. When paying our bill, we talked to the owner who spoke no English. We told him we saw the Lecce futbol team on the plane and he said the whole of the town was depressed due to their loss to Roma.

Back to our hotel, check in, siesta. Exhausted, we slept for three hours. When we woke up we thought it was the next day, but it was only 7pm. Perfect! We can go to dinner. From our research, we had a bunch of restaurants we wanted to try. With our GPS in pedestrian mode we found that many restaurants in Lecce are closed on Sunday, just like in the US. So we went to Divinia de Providencia a couple of doors down. Divine Providence, this must be a sign. Walking downstairs a flight of stairs to what must have once been a wine cellar or cantina but is now a fine dining restaurant. About ten tables are in two dining rooms. A waitress greets us in Italian, speaking far too fast for us to understand.
“Parle Ingles?”
“Poco”
“Due”
She sits us down and gives us each a menu. I struggle to translate the menu. Rucola is arugula but is there any meat in this dish? Karen, meanwhile is sailing along.
“There’s bacon in that.”
“How do you know?”
She pointed to her menu. It was in English. We ordered from her menu.

Puglia is best known for two food items. Orichetti pasta and pecorino cheese. Orichetti or Little Ears are small discs of pasta with dents in the middle. Karen and I lovingly call them “hats.” Pecorino is a salty sheep’s milk cheese that I love but Karen finds too strong.

Karen ordered the orichetti with rucola and I ordered the linguini with porcini mushrooms and chestnuts. The pasta is homemade. With the wine, perfect. And the portions are just right so we have room for dessert. Ricotta pie with dried fruit for me. Like an American fruit cake, only good.

Tonight is Halloween in America, and we didn’t think they celebrated this holiday in Italy. But, walking to the restaurant we saw several children dressed in costumes. Teens were wearing devil horns and other simple costumes. I’m curious about whether kids go trick or treating to celebrate Halloween. She answers me by telling me where to buy our costume and writes down the address of a local Halloween party.

Day 3 – Italian Fashion

Today is a holiday in Italy. All Saints Day. Government offices and most businesses are closed. Today is our day to explore Lecce, take in the sights, crazy architecture and people watch. We bring our handy GPS and start out. Along the way I see many examples of the baroque architecture that made Lecce famous.

Did you ever wonder why almost all of the Renaissance art is Biblically inspired? Due to the complete power of the church over government during the Renaissance, religion held total sway over art and artists. Church leaders like the Pope and bishops commissioned much of the famous art of the period. When the church is your patron, your art will be what the church wants. Biblical scenes were painted and sculpted to educate an illiterate population. These biblical scenes are on display throughout Lecce on the façade of churches and castles and inside as well in the form of sculptures and frescoes.

Fashion is a more secular pursuit and the Italians practice this with a passion. On our last visit to Italy, eggplant haircolor was all the rage. Two years later, American women copied this trend. By 2010, only a few grandmothers have eggplant head, but a new trend has taken over. Boots. Every woman in Lecce wears boots. We’re not talking little dainty boots.
Big leather biker boots tucked into their jeans. Boots going past their knees with mini skirts to make them look like strippers. We went to the Piazza Sant’Oronzoto get some gelato at Gelateria Natlae and people watch. Every woman was wearing boots. Not just young, single women, but moms pushing strollers, preteens and grandmothers all wearing biker boots. I joke with Karen that next year the trend will be biker’s helmets to go with the boots.

While people watching on the piazza, a police car drives up and stops in the middle of the road. One policeman and one policewoman get out of the car and start chatting on the piazza. About 15 minutes later, the policeman wanders over to a care and starts talking to the driver. He was going to write him a ticket for parking illegally since his car was directly under a no parking sign. The driver disagreed and pointed out that there were at least 40 other cars illegally parked on the same street. I guess he’s questioning why he’s being singled out. Watching this discussion, Karen and I are mesmerized. After an hour, no ticket is written, the conversation is ongoing, and we leave for our siesta.

Southern Europeans are known for eating late. Once in Spain, we were in a restaurant eating a late dinner. As late as midnight, families with toddlers were sitting down for dinner. But, since we had missed lunch, we were hoping for an early meal. Most places in Spain and northern Italy were open early for the tourists. No so in Lecce. Restaurants don’t open until 8pm, so we have some time to kill. We walk the passeggiatia, an evening stroll where the whole town (literally thousands of people) walks and chats before dinner. It is quite a scene with young families and teenagers, grandparents and couples out and about. This is one of our favorite aspects of Italian life. Chatting with the neighbors, walking around town, it all seems some civilized.

Karen and I made our way to the public garden in the north end of town. We sit on a bench for some prime people watching. Besides boots, the other fashion statement in 2010 Italy is the puffy coat. Think the ski jackets stuffed with down we used to wear in the 70’s. It has been over 70 degrees both days in Lecce, but to the Pugliese this is bone chilling as they are wearing winter coats. When the summer temp regularly goes over 100 degrees, I guess 70 seems cold. Karen and I sit in the park and count puffy coats. I get a point if a man is wearing a puffy coat and Karen gets a point if a woman is wearing a puffy coat. The score is 7-7 when we leave for dinner.

I’d been looking forward to dinner at Osteria degli Spiriti. Great reviews online and highly recommended in Lonely Planet. We start with a bottle of the local Primitivo. The waiter recommends the antipasti platter which is the best we’ve ever had. Fried mushrooms, pickled eggplant, spinach crepes, stuffed peppers, and zucchini. This could have been a meal in itself. I tell the waiter this is like Italian tapas with the small portions, but he didn’t understand me. For pasta, I order orichetti with rapini since I didn’t have orichetti the night before. Karen orderes the spelt spaghetti in marinara. But when our entrees arrive, Karen’s has pecorino cheese on it, so we trade.
A good trade, but I still want homemade orichetti before I leave Puglia. After all, Puglia is renowned for it’s orchetti. This will be the meal by which all other meals on our trip will be measured. Sheer perfection.

On the way home, we wander by a bar and Karen said “They’re playing country music.” I can’t hear what they were playing because we were outside, but see a guitar player in a cowboy hat, so we walk in. They are playing a hillbilly version of “Walk of Life” in heavily accented Italian. The college kids in the bar are drinking beer from the bottle (something I have never seen in Italy) and going nuts for the music. The bouncer is dancing and singing along. I turn to him and say “Dire Straits.” He stares back at me blankly.

Day 4 – Sightseeing in Salento

Today is the day we drive around the peninsula of Salento. We plug our destinations into our GPS and drive to Galatina, only ½ hour away. Galatina is part of an area called the Greek Salentine. Puglia was controlled by the Greeks long before the Romans and there are Greek ruins throughout Puglia. No ones knows why why the Greek Salentine retained its Greek heritage in this tiny corner of Italy, but it is known that Greek monks fleeing the rule of Emperor Leon in the early part of the 8th Century settled in the area. More arrived after the fall of Constantinople in 1453. There are some areas on the Greek Salentine that still speak Greek and traffic signs are in both Italian and Greek, but we didn’t see any.

Our mission is the Basilica di Santa Maria Caterina d’ Alessandria. Again, no pictures allowed inside, so you’ll have to trust me when I say the frescoes we came to see are breathtaking. Every inch, it seems, is taken up with a magnificent fresco.

Walking back to the car, we stop at a small deli to get some bread for our lunch. The shop sells meat and cheeses and I see a pig’s leg on the meat cutter behind the counter. The proprietor looked like a stereotype of an Italian butcher. After selling us our pane, Karen noticed a handwritten sign taped to the wall. The deli is for sale. No price is listed, but looks like the butcher is ready to retire. What a nice life to run a deli in Puglia. But, Karen and I keep walking; we could not sell meat.

Next stop, Otranto on the Adriatic coast. Most of the Adriatic side of Puglia has a rocky coastline and is undeveloped. Ontranto, because of its port, is the exception. In the summer, this is a resort town, hopping with sun worshippers. We are there during the offseason. We drive to the main marina and park just outside where the road curves to lead out of town. Three months earlier, no doubt, this was bumper to bumper with miles of beachgoers vying for their little scrap of sand on which to set their towel. Today, Karen and I are alone. It’s very windy, so we sit in the car and have a picnic and watch the waves. Karen lets me have her leftovers from last night so I finally get orichetti. It’s worth the wait!

Next stop, Santa Marad di Leuca. The very tip of the heel of the boot of Italy! Just a short trip down the coast and our GPS only leads us astray a couple of times (how lost can you get when you are following the coast?) We first stop at the lighthouse and I look down at the town and the marina and look at where the Adriatic and Ionian Seas meet. It looks like treacherous waters and Steve later confirms that this is the case. Heading down to the town, which is another tourist resort, it is deserted. We are utterly alone walking along the boardwalk. It’s like Watch Hill in the dead of winter.

Next, up the Ionian coast to Gallipoli. The Ionian coast has many sandy beaches and is dotted with condos and resort towns. Steve’s boat is docked here and he later told us that the sunsets over the Ionian Sea are not to be missed. Of course, we missed it, wanting to get back to Lecce.

We find a parking spot near the old town of Lecce (most cars are not allowed inside the old town walls) and walk to the B&B Prestige. We had forgotten to confirm our reservation. But, Renata, the proprietor, is gracious and checks us into our room. Renata and her boyfriend Steve map out Lecce for us and we chat about the town’s history and travel (Steve has worked in over 20 countries). Renata lets us sample some of her family’s olive oil they make from their own olive trees. Deliciouso!

We take a short siesta (we’re really enjoying this lifestyle of napping in the afternoon) and then head out for our pasagiatta. Did I mention how much we love the pasagiatta? See and be seen, stroll and talk. Lovely.

Dinner, unfortunately, is a disappointment. Karen’s rapini is salty to the point of being inedible. My pasta, while ok, is nothing special. Dolce is a lemon curd cake and is the meal’s standout. Our waiter, however, is a great guy. We talk with him about music and he points us to a concert which we never got to. I won’t tell you the name of the restaurant. In this age of the Internet, negative comments last forever and I am inclined to always give the benefit of the doubt and chalk it up to an off night.

Leaving, it is raining and the streets are deserted. Heading to Joyce, we walk in and are the only patrons in the place. The walls are filled with pictures of Miles Davis, Louis Armstrong, Bob Marley, U2, Rolling Stones and more. We sit at the bar and order our beers from Claudio. We talk futbol and I tell Claudio my story of sharing the flight from Rome to Brindisi with US Lecce. He points to a photo tacked to the wall, a good looking young guy in e US Lecce uniform. It was Claudio! In the 80’s he was a famous soccer player for US Lecce. Later, we talked music. I show Claudio my card for One Love Farm with the Rasta colors on it and he popped in a CD of Bob Marley. First up, “Redemption Song” my favorite song! Another couple who had come in sway to the music and the waitress bops to the rhythm. Could anything be more incongruous than Americans sitting in an Irish Pub in Lecce basking in the glory of Bob Marley? I try to ask the waitress why she likes Bob Marley, but we could not communicate past the most simple idea of “I like good music.” I do know that reggae is very popular in Puglia, to the point where there are Italian reggae bands in Puglia. One theory is that reggae is the music of the oppressed. And, certainly Puglia knows from oppression. Poor and repeatedly conquered by outsiders “got no time for mental slavery.” We walk home in the rain soaking wet and happy.

Day 5 – Wine Country

Karen got up early to go looking for new shoes. Our clothes are still wet from the night before, but they would dry. Her shoes, on the other hand, are ruined. I teased Karen that she would come back with the thigh high boots that all the fashionable Italians are wearing. She came back with a nice pair of relatively sensible shoes.

No time for breakfast at the Prestige (a decision we would later come to regret) because we have to meet Cinzia outside the old town walls for our wine tour. The rains from the night before had caused extensive damage, flooding and downed tree limbs. Only a couple inches of rain that fell last night, but I think there was so much damage due to the fact that there is a bed of limestone just a few feet below ground. The water simply cannot be absorbed into the rock bed.

Cinzia drives us in her Alfa Romeo to wine country, only ½ hour from Lecce. On the ride (and detours due to road flooding) I see many olive groves and vineyards sitting in flood waters. Who knows how this will affect the vines (the grapes have already been harvested for the year) but I’m sure the olive crop will be damaged since this is harvest time Cinzia is perhaps the most knowledgeable wine person we have ever met. With an MBA from Harvard, she worked in investment banking before returning home to Solento in 2005 to start a cooking school with her sister.

Cinzia has consulted wineries in the area, so she does wine tours as well. Talking and driving, Cinzia tells us about the major grape varieties in Solento, Primitivo and Negromonica. When I suggested Primitivo is similar to Zinfindel, she said that it is similar, but growing conditions, wind, sun and soil are so different that you cannot compare the two. After stopping to asking directions (we were detoured several times due to flooding) we were told to go two blocks, turn right and ask someone else. When we got to Candida Winery, we were greeted by Francesca, who works in marketing and is in charge of exporting. Unfortunately, there is no current importer for this winery in the US. But Francesca is looking hard to find one. If Francesca hadn’t apologized for her English, you would never know she is uncomfortable with the language. She speaks quickly with near flawless pronunciation and an accent that sounds closer to British than anything. Francesca told us that Candida produces 2 million bottles a year. The wine is aged in French oak and stainless steel. Depending on the variety, the wine may spend no time in oak or three months, up to three years in the barrel. I’ve never seen such a clean winemaking process. Everything is spotless.

We go to the huge tasting room where Francesca decanted the wine. We sample two amazing varieties of Negromonica. Since Candida doesn’t ship to the US, we have to buy bottles at the winery and take it with us. This breaks our cardinal rule of never taking anything with you that you can’t carry in your backpack. Now we would have to look for a suitcase to carry all this wine!

On our way to the next winery, Cinzia told us about the pruning method for the Primitivo. This method makes the vines look like the old Zin vines we have seen in California. But the ages of these vines would put those New World vines to shame. Some are 70-100 years old. Imagine working the vines your great grandfather planted. Cinzia also tells us about the roofs of the vine. They dig deep into the subsoil and grab the limestone. This means the vines have access to the water between the rocks and rarely need irrigation. Cinzia says this can give the wine a pleasant mineral, almost salty flavor.

Cinzia has consulted at Castello Monaci. So, they know her well and tell her to show us around. The winemaker stops by and chats with Cinzia. Then we go upstairs to taste! Angelo pours the wine and Cinzia translates his description. The Primitivo was by far the best we have ever tasted. We thank Angelo and he gives us the name and number of their importer in the US. Don’t be surprised if you see a tractor trailer truck pull up in Hope Valley to drop off a few pallets. We buy a couple of bottles just so we are sure to have some. Cinzia drops us back at Lecce and we give her a bottle of her favorite Primitivo as a thank you.

A word about prices. Since we had not seen or tasted wines from these wineries before, Karen and I both tried to guess the price of the wines as we tasted them. In the states, we agreed, these would be $40-$50 a bottle. When we went to the warehouse, imagine our surprise when the wines cost 1/3 of that. For us, of course, that price goes up when we try to figure out how we are getting the wine home. The other thing is that Solento is an up and coming wine region. So, while the wine might be comparable to top flight wines in Napa or France, the prices do not reflect the quality.

After siesta (did I mention how I love the siesta?) Karen heads out looking for a bag for our wine while I read some more of my book “Christ Stopped at Eboli.” When Karen comes back, she takes me shopping (my favorite activity, note sarcasm here) for luggage. It soon becames apparent we are going to spend a lot of money. Duffel bags and soft sided cases, while inexpensive, will not do the job. We cannot risk breaking the bottles. So, we buy “The Beast.” El Beasto will fit lots of bottles. I manhandle The Beast up the narrow staircases of the Pretige and couldn’t help but think of how the heck I was going to get it back down the stairs stuffed with heavy bottles. Once upstairs, I pack the case and find I have a little extra room. Luckily, Renata is at the Prestige, so I ask if can buy 5 litres of her family’s olive oil. She says she doesn’t have any right now. My heart sinks. Renata gets on the phone, calls her mom, then her sister who arrives 10 minutes later with a huge jug of olive oil! Renata and Steve pack it up and I slide it into the case; perfect fit.

Karen and I head out to dinner. It’s raining and the streets are deserted. Passagiatta cancelled. Funny thing about rain in Lecce. People panic when it rains in Lecce like Rhode Islanders panic when it snows. Even a few drops or a little drizzle brings out a dozen umbrella vendors hawking their wares. They will aggressively approach you if you don’t have an umbrella with you. Tonight it is raining hard and nothing is open. We walk for an hour and everywhere we go, places are closed for the night. No one is out, so no reason to stay open. Finally, we walk to the only 5 star hotel in Lecce. Soaking wet, we ask the desk clerk if the restaurant is open. The very professional women behind the desk tries not to look at us askance, but it is easy to read her mind; “Who are these vagabonds?” We sit down in the restaurant and Karen goes to the bathroom to freshen up (there’s no hope for me). When she comes back, we are served some amazing rolls with sundried tomatoes and olives (pits not removed) baked in. No butter or olive oil served with the bread (it’s not needed). The vegetarian items on the menu were limited so Karen gets the pumpkin soufflé with back truffle while I get the pureed fava beans with sautéed chicory. Both dishes are out of this world, but I’m glad Karen shared her soufflé as it was truly an outstanding dish. For and entrée the waiter said the chef could make us some roasted vegetables with cheese, “maybe some mozzerella?” We decide to split the entrée and good thing. Tomato, mushroom, zucchini and more. The star of the show is what turned out to be a huge cheese plate. At least four pieces each of moz, grana padana, piave, gouda, and maybe a cheddar plus a couple pieces of brie. Three small bowls accompany the cheese. Honey, pickled onion and pomegranate jam. I tried every combination of cheese and accompaniment (honey and brie is my fave) and then mixed cheese and grilled veggies (zucchini and gouda, Yum!) and then bread and cheese. The mozz on the bread is so fresh it is sweet. Heaven!

Day 6 – Leaving Lecce

Karen got up before me again. By the time I was showered and dressed, she was back. Karen had made several stops to get fruit and sweets for our trip as well as her morning espresso (with a shot of Sambuka!). Even though we are on a tight schedule, we have to get breakfast at the Prestige. Renada had an amazing setup set up with fig cake made by her mother and an apricot filled croissant made by Renada herself! We are so to leave, but we have to get Rome today. I muscle El Beasto down the stairs and load it in the car and we are off to Brindisi. Did I mention how stressful it is to drive in Lecce? We drop the car at the airport, take a taxi to the train station and and get on the train for the five hour ride to Rome. Last time we took trains in Italy was 2001. They were so crowded and filled with smokers. This time we were sure to reserve a seat and are so happy that there is no longer smoking allowed on trains.

Seeing the countryside between Brindisi and Foggia, I noticed the farms get bigger the further north we go. But we see very little of the wheat Puglia is known for. Most of the huge wheat fields are further north past Foggia. These farms were full of grapes and fennel and fall greens. There are hectares of freshly plowed red soil, ready for fall planting. Along the side of the tracks is a railroad worker carrying a rake to smooth out rocks and a basket. The basket is filled with wild greens he had picked along the railroad tracks.

After Foggia, the train backtracks a few miles and heads west over the mountains towards Rome. Grape vines are planted on the hillsides facing both north and south. There is also tons of freshly plowed fields, the distinguishing feature being thousands of white specs in the dirt. Rocks, rocks, and more rocks. While the soils looks fertile it is littered with rocks, surely making plowing a challenge.

Once in Rome, we only make one wrong turn trying to find our hotel. What I didn’t mention is that we are arriving in Rome a day early. We had sent an email to the hotel asking if we could stay an extra day, but didn’t have access to a computer to see if they had responded. We figured if we couldn’t get into our hotel early we were in Rome; how hard could it be to find a hotel room in Rome? Upon arrival, we found that there was no room at the Hotel IQ. But, they booked us into their sister hotel, Artemide. Valentino takes our bags to our room and shows us the amenities as I frantically search for a couple of Euros as a tip. No luck. I’m the ugly American.

After a quick freshening up, we head back to the front desk to get Internet access and book our tickets for the Vatican. I immediately get change for my 20 Euro note and tip Valentino. Crisis averted. After booking and printing our tickets (there are several layers of bureaucracy, even online) we head to the bar for a glass of complimentary Prosecco. The bar is full of Americans and Karen and I discuss our plans for the next day. We talk to the bartender about Italian wines and futbol. He tells us his wife is Brazillian so we talk about Brazil and my favorite Brazilian futbol player, Ronaldhino, who now plays for Milan.

Then, a gentleman comes up to the bar and orders an Irish Whiskey. I ask him if he is Irish and he says no, he is Norwegian. After a couple of glasses of wine (maybe more) we are introduced to his sons, son in law, wife, nine in all staying in Rome for several days to celebrate his wife’s birthday. I won’t tell you her age, but it has a zero in it, so it is a good reason to celebrate. I ask my new friend what he does for a living and he says he owns a wireless broadband company. What are the chances? All the way to Rome and I spend an hour talking about Towerstream, wireless broadband, 5GHz and the cost of building a wireless network.

It is getting very late so we paid our bill and head off to dinner. Of course our new Norwegian friends are at the same restaurant! We wave hello and chat briefly before getting our table. We order a half litre of red (below average) and pizza margarita (way too salty) and artichoke (way, way too salty) and rosemary foccacia (perfect). The meal doesn’t agree with Karen, so when we get back we open the window for fresh air and sleep like babies.