South Italy
Italy, Latter Half of December
We’ve dallied in the north too long, but Tuscany has been too beautiful to rush through. We force ourselves to leave and abandoning our normal principles we hop on the toll road to make progress as quickly as Godzuki!’s little wheels can carry us. Sorry middle Italy, we shall return.
Somewhere on the journey south we cross an invisible line and suddenly there is rubbish everywhere. It’s such a shame, it could be so pretty, but anywhere it is possible to stop, rubbish has been fly tipped.
We stop on the Adriatic coast for lunch and it’s like being parked in an open landfill. Why? Is getting rid of rubbish in a responsible manner so hard? Maybe it is here. Worse, so much of it ends up in the sea.
We like to leave places better than we find them, pick up what litter there is around our little park ups, but this is an insurmountable problem and we’re not making a difference.
Underground
Castellana Grotte has a nice enough old town, good supermarkets and a small camping sosta with all the necessary facilities, but the real reason to visit lies underground.
Underneath the town is a spectacular cave system. We book onto a tour, half expecting to get it to ourselves. There can’t be many people wanting a mid week English speaking tour in the latter stages of December. We are surprised to find out we are very wrong.
We descend into the Grave, a large cavern into which light floods through a hole in the roof. Concerts are held here because the acoustics are so good.
Our tour guide brings the caves alive with her stories of adventure while pointing out the features that have been given names. Stalagmites and stalactites, from tiny drippings to enormous features formed over thousands of years adorn the passageways and caverns.
One and a half kilometres in and we reach the final cave of the tour and the highlight of this system; the White Cave. Kept in darkness to stop the growth of plants, the lights are turned on for a brief few minutes for us to marvel at nature’s spectacle. As the cave sparkles in the artificial light, we gaze in awe at the rock formations and fail to capture the moment on our phones.
Overground
Not far from Castellana Grotte is the town of Alberobello. Here the attraction is a man made UNESCO world heritage site. As we drive through the area we are noticing small stone houses with conical roofs, these are known as Trullis. In Alberobello there is a huge concentration of Trullis, mostly painted white. We park up next to an impressive cemetery, across the road from a Trulli and walk into town. We’re already amazed with all the little houses when we arrive in the town centre and look out upon the other side of town, upon hundreds of Trullis.
Attractive as they are, the houses have a darker history, having been the product of a harsh land owner banning the construction of permanent structures. Now they’ve all be shored up with mortar, painted and made significantly more weatherproof. With Christmas rapidly approaching, the town is tastefully decorated and it is the perfect little Christmas Town.
Italy, Christmas
Our southerly dash leads us to Otranto. It’s Italy’s most easterly town and a little further along the coast is a lighthouse that marks Italy’s most easterly point. Since the year 2000 it’s become a bit of a thing to visit the lighthouse for sunrise on the first of January.
We spend Christmas in a campsite on the outskirts of town. It’s nice to put down roots for a few days. We have some packages being delivered to the local post office, Amazon rather than Santa. Ever since Rosana developed a taste for Marmite I have been fighting a loosing battle to keep it to myself. Thank goodness for international delivery.
Otranto is lovely and in contrast to my complaints, is clean and generally litter free. The town has a long and interesting history dating back to a time that we know of as Ancient Greece. The castle casts its protective presence over the town and overlooks the the crystal clear sea. The harbour is filled with a mixture of small fishing boats and sailing yachts, while the castle is now home to narrow streets lined with shops and restaurants.
Fishing seems a popular local pastime, along with the boats, people also gather to fish from the walls and rocks around the bay. We watch a man cast, his lure missing the ocean and landing in a solitary rock pool on an isolated rock. We try to stifle a laugh, he looks embarrassed, I feel guilty, then sees the funny side and joins in the laughter. But then again, maybe it was deliberate; I don’t see any fish in the clear blue water, nor anyone reeling in a catch.
The narrow streets of the old town are brightly decorated for Christmas and the shops are busy. We queue for ice cream of Christmas eve, a sure sign we’ve found some of that elusive warmth. People sit at the outside tables of cafes and we join them for an al fresco coffee.
Christmas day arrives and we fire up the barbecue. We’ve found some turkey in the shops and Rosana has rustled up some turkey milanasas for our Christmas lunch. We eat outside in the sunshine and forget to listen to the King’s speech.
Italy, New Years Eve
Returning to Otranto for the new year celebrations is not planned, but as we prepare to leave Rosana gets to chatting with the old boy who patrols the campsite, eyes always on the lookout for transgressions of the rules (Overloading the washing machine: Guilty). It’s a relationship that started frostily, but Rosana’s slowly warmed to him and I think him to us. As I have no idea what is being said, I smile and nod at appropriate moments. He saying that the campsite will be getting busier over new year as there is a big party in town. Sounds like fun, but is he just a great salesman?
After a couple of nights away in Zollino for twixtmas, where we camp next to an archeological site, we return to Otranto and the campsite is indeed getting busier. We take walks along the coastal paths and await the new year’s celebrations. The stage is being constructed in the town piazza and the campsite continues to fill.
It’s only a short walk from the campsite to the town and when we arrive a little after 9.30pm the DJ is in full flow on stage. The crowd is still small. That doesn’t stop the DJ, he’s having the time of his life on stage.
We walk around the bay to get a look at the town glittering in it’s celebratory lighting. The streets are busy and fireworks, bangers especially, are being let off left, right and centre. Both adults and children seem to have free reign with, I’m calling them fireworks, but I suspect some of them may have been more closely related to explosives. This must save the municipality thousands as they don’t have to bother putting on a show. The complete lack of health and safety is refreshing. There’s only one ambulance in attendance and they don’t seem to be busy.
We work out where to get beer from and join the growing crowd that are watching the band that’s started playing. They seem to me to be a wedding band and everyone knows the songs. Everyone except us, and that’s fine with me. Oh! La Bamba! We do recognise something.
The clock ticks down and there it is, 2024 has arrived in Italy. Corks are popped and fireworks, completely uncoordinated, explode into the sky. The atmosphere is fun, relaxed and friendly.
Despite the bars there is a distinct lack of the drunkenness that I am used to for new years eve celebrations. That’s probably for the best given the lazen faire attitude to high explosives.
A new band cranks up but it’s really not our style. Also, I need my sleep these days. We meander back to the van through the busy streets. Many people will be up to see the sunrise, you can even take an organised hike to the lighthouse to see it. We sleep right through it.
Flickr: Castallan Grotte | Alberobello | Otranto