I start by saying my week in the southern end of Italy was beyond amazing. I saw some of the most unbelievable sights and met so many fantastic people that I believe the stars must have been aligned for my trip. It was perfect from start to finish!
The trip to Gallipoli was quite the adventure. Trenitalia does not go all the way to the southern end of the boot; it stops in Lecce and you have to take a “private” railway to go any further. FSE is the particular rail company that handles this portion of Puglia. I say company lightly. The train is more like a school bus on rails. It was hilarious to watch these guys. The conductor looked and acted like your average guy off the street; no uniform, no checking of tickets. In fact, since we stopped at every tiny little station known to southern Italian humanity, this guy would jump off the train and grab an espresso or have a smoke with another FSE employee while the rest of us waited on the non-air conditioned train. He could not have been bothered by a schedule; pretty glad I wasn’t either.
I stayed in the old city of Gallipoli, which is actually an island connected to the new city by a very long bridge. My hotel was right on the harbor and was adorable. It had huge rooms that opened off of a very Mediterranean like courtyard. The staff was nice or maybe I just decided that since no one spoke a word of English and I didn’t understand much of what they said to me. Either way, it worked.
My goal for my time in Gallipoli was to do nothing but lie in the sun and swim in the Ionian Sea; both of which I accomplished very well. The water is a gorgeous shade of greenish-blue and absolutely crystal clear. Both on the little beach of Gallipoli and a couple miles down the road in Baia Verde, the beach is sandy, which is a bit unusual. Not being one to squeeze into the masses on lounge chairs under umbrellas, I opted to find a free public beach at Baia Verde and camp out among the rocks and sand. It was perfect.
Apparently, Italian siesta also applies to hanging out on the beach. I noticed this phenomenon both days at 2 different beaches. People come out around 10am and then head in around 1pm. They will then come back out onto the beach around 3:30. From the hours of 1-3, I pretty much had the beach to myself.
During my second day at Baia Verde, I met a really great guy who lives in Rome. He noticed I was reading a book in English so he asked where I was from. They must not get many Americans in that area because most people were really excited when they found out I lived very close to Washington DC. I was pretty psyched to have someone, who I thought spoke English, to talk to, since I had not heard a word of it in almost 3 days. After the basic “where are you from” Marco reverted back to Italian only. My broken Italian must be better than I think because we ended up having a lot of conversation on the beach, followed up by aperitivi watching the sunset back in Gallipoli and dinner overlooking the harbor. And no, I was not dolci (dessert) at the end of the night. You guys are perverts!! I’m pretty sure Marco spoke more English than he let on because I know for a fact I used an awful lot of non-Italian that he understood.
So after three of what I deem to be perfect days, spending the days on a Mediterranean beach, drinking Prosecco while watching the sunset, and seeing fireworks at midnight because it was the festival of the towns patron saint, I headed out for Alberobello.
The trip to Gallipoli was quite the adventure. Trenitalia does not go all the way to the southern end of the boot; it stops in Lecce and you have to take a “private” railway to go any further. FSE is the particular rail company that handles this portion of Puglia. I say company lightly. The train is more like a school bus on rails. It was hilarious to watch these guys. The conductor looked and acted like your average guy off the street; no uniform, no checking of tickets. In fact, since we stopped at every tiny little station known to southern Italian humanity, this guy would jump off the train and grab an espresso or have a smoke with another FSE employee while the rest of us waited on the non-air conditioned train. He could not have been bothered by a schedule; pretty glad I wasn’t either.
I stayed in the old city of Gallipoli, which is actually an island connected to the new city by a very long bridge. My hotel was right on the harbor and was adorable. It had huge rooms that opened off of a very Mediterranean like courtyard. The staff was nice or maybe I just decided that since no one spoke a word of English and I didn’t understand much of what they said to me. Either way, it worked.
My goal for my time in Gallipoli was to do nothing but lie in the sun and swim in the Ionian Sea; both of which I accomplished very well. The water is a gorgeous shade of greenish-blue and absolutely crystal clear. Both on the little beach of Gallipoli and a couple miles down the road in Baia Verde, the beach is sandy, which is a bit unusual. Not being one to squeeze into the masses on lounge chairs under umbrellas, I opted to find a free public beach at Baia Verde and camp out among the rocks and sand. It was perfect.
Apparently, Italian siesta also applies to hanging out on the beach. I noticed this phenomenon both days at 2 different beaches. People come out around 10am and then head in around 1pm. They will then come back out onto the beach around 3:30. From the hours of 1-3, I pretty much had the beach to myself.
During my second day at Baia Verde, I met a really great guy who lives in Rome. He noticed I was reading a book in English so he asked where I was from. They must not get many Americans in that area because most people were really excited when they found out I lived very close to Washington DC. I was pretty psyched to have someone, who I thought spoke English, to talk to, since I had not heard a word of it in almost 3 days. After the basic “where are you from” Marco reverted back to Italian only. My broken Italian must be better than I think because we ended up having a lot of conversation on the beach, followed up by aperitivi watching the sunset back in Gallipoli and dinner overlooking the harbor. And no, I was not dolci (dessert) at the end of the night. You guys are perverts!! I’m pretty sure Marco spoke more English than he let on because I know for a fact I used an awful lot of non-Italian that he understood.
So after three of what I deem to be perfect days, spending the days on a Mediterranean beach, drinking Prosecco while watching the sunset, and seeing fireworks at midnight because it was the festival of the towns patron saint, I headed out for Alberobello.
Olives instead of chips and a glass of Prosecco watching the sun set!
sunset over Gallipoli
drinks with Marco
very cool cafe overlooking Gallipoli's main harbor & beach
this block has three churches in a row.
Baia Verde
Baia Verde
Private beach at Baia Verde
another cool cafe for drinks at sunset
another perfect sunset
Gallipolis little beach
Piazza d'amici (Friend's square) where people sit in the afternoon and gossip.
mussles and spaghetti with delicious house wine
a view of the restaurant where I had the mussels
8 comments:
Hey,
Maybe you should quit school and write a novel of your journey. It was great...I loved every word of it (and the pictures). Of course, you are much braver than I with mafia man. I probably would have "kicked him in the ding ding" or threw holy water at him. '0)
I'm glad you are having so much fun. We can't wait to see all your 8,000 pictures. '0)
Talk to you soon.
Sherri
Sherri: Hmmmm, quit school and write a novel. . .you may be on to something. Know any publishers who would give me an advance of say a cool million? Glad you liked it. I wasn't sure I could write it well enough to get the experience across. And I could absolutely see you kicking the guy in the ding ding! I laughed out loud at the part about throwing holy water at him!
See you in two weeks. Kelly and I should be arriving at about the same time :-)
could you be an hotter in the picture of drinks with marco
Marc: grazie bello!
Estate, Dove siete? Venire prego lo vedono ancora. Desidero baciare il vostro lombo caldo. Desidero spostare le mie barrette tramite i vostri capelli. Desidero bergli il buon vino con e togliere i nostri vestiti e guardare il tramonto sulla spiaggia. Avete visto il nuovo film di Harry Potter? Tutto l'mio amore, Sig. Casa Nostra
Carrie, Chi è il Casa bastardo Nostra? Marco è l'unico uomo per voi! Ucciderò questo sacchetto della sporcizia se viene mai ancora vicino voi! Venuto, vivere con me dal mare e faremo i bambini piccoli bei con tre ugelli. Ti amo Carrie, Marco P.S. - perchè mi non avete preso una fotografia? Siete embarassed per mostrare ai vostri amici come osservo?
Thanks for helping me improve my Italian. I'm not answering back in it because while I can read the language pretty well, it would take me damn near forever to write the shit; and, I got vino to drink!!!
Cosa Nostra: yeah, greasy mafia-looking dude, it's me Summer. Of course you can see me again, isn't that why you got the legit Maryland number from me? Also, the stuff about kissing my naughty bits, ponytail/hair, drinking wine, no clothes, sunset on the beach, etc. . .that is just pathetic. Talking to me about Harry Potter, now that's hot. BTW, when did you get to the States? That's where you accessed my blog from.
Marco: I do love me a jealous Eye-talian stallion. Kill him, don't kill him, va bene! I think I will pass on the beach and the babies. There is no photo of you because obviously, no one wants to see a man who would make offspring with 3 "nozzles", WTF? You in the States too? Maybe you and Casa can rumble American style.
Marco: yup, online translators are a puttana. I definintely don't want bambini piccoli con 3 nozzles, but with 3 nipples, YOUR ON!!
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