Day 25 Matera to Taranto and Lecce

We had seen so much of Matera in three nights and were looking forward to getting on the road to Lecce. The landscape was all vast rolling canola hills and it was clearly a place with lots of agriculture and industry.

Taranto began with the usual jumble of small industry on the outskirts, and the biggest steelworks in Italy, but the mood changed once we were in the city proper. There were two distinct parts of Taranto; the island and the mainland. We first walked along the palm studded seafront of the island, which was still very much a functioning fishing area. There were mussel farms in the bay and fishermen sorting nets and repairing boats. Much of the seafront buildings were neglected, but clearly there was some regeneration going on.

We crossed the bridge onto the mainland and followed the coast road on foot for a while, before cutting a path into the city with its mad chaos of alleyways. Near the university we found a nice restaurant and stopped for an early lunch. No panini for this couple. Instead we had a bowl of mussel pasta in tomato sauce, a glass of wine and coffee. While this seemed a good idea at the time, it left me very snoozy indeed. Back in the car for the trip to Lecce, I could barely stay awake.

Our walk took is past a stand of Doric columns, a reminder of the city's Greek colonization in the past. It must have been washing day today as the cities apartments that lined the alleyways all seemed to be drying clothes out their windows. 

Taranto seemed on the cusp of being a very popular tourist town. There were palaces galore and beautifully decorated churches. The see was clear and an impossible turquoise colour. Occasional speedboats tore across the satin turquoise sea.

Our accommodation in Lecce was pretty special. It seemed like a grand old house converted into separate large apartment rooms. It was all white marble, from the font door, up the stairs and through our rooms out to our balcony.

Arrival at the accommodation was funny. We pulled up outside and it looked like there might be an office where steps led up t an open window. Johnny peeked inside and reported back that there was an ancient little lady inside, seated on a fancy couch. Eventually she came to the window and issued a stream of Italian words and gestured broadly. We looked at one another blankly. Johnny and I quickly flipped open Google Translate but were saved from further confusion by the rattling of keys in the gate, and the emergence of a tall, thin, professorial looking man. This was our host, Luca. He welcomed us (and a French couple who arrived at the same time) with an invitation to take coffee in the garden, whilst he dealt with "the documents".

That over, we unloaded our luggage and Luca drove out of the spot he had reserved for us across the road. Johnny took the car over while Luca and I watched. The car was parked and then moved. The car was again parked and Johnny got out and checked its position. Unhappy with its positioning he got in again. Luca seemed confused.. "He does this sometimes I explained". Believe it or not the adjustment continued.. Luca sprinted over to assure Johnny that his parking was "perfetto". This he repeated another couple of times, as he helped us up the stairs with our luggage. I bet Luca has a story to tell when he gets home. 

 

 

A rest restored us (well, me actually) and we  were ready for more fun. We walked out to the old city, which was only a couple of hundred metres down a beautiful tree lined road, with grand houses on the right and a gated university compound on the left.  We entered the old town through a stunning carved  gateway. As night fell the old laneways lit up and the place was bathed in a gorgeous golden light. Yes, the Lecce Italians were promenading as they have done in every city we have visited and we were happy to join them. There were some wonderful maritime antiquarian shops that included larger than life busty nude figureheads for your ship and cherubs with wobbly backsides to decorate your hallway or fireplace. 

We were very conscious of how much we had been eating so tonight we opted for a modest dinner. We would not have a cocktail and we would only order a platter of antipasti. When it came, it was both delicious and enormous. It came with honey, which to my surprise, suited the cheese and meats perfectly. Initially we opted for a picturesque outside table, but the wizz of scooters and even cars forced us inside.

As we left the restaurant, the night sky has taken on a dark velvet sheen and cupped in the curled stone  elaborations atop the church at the end of the road, there nestled a beautiful crescent moon. 

To settle dinner we took a walk through the streets back to the accommodation, stopping at an asian supermarket for some milk so we could have coffee and tea back home. It had everything, including 25 kg bags of ten different kinds of rice, Wine in handy 1litre paper containers (like milk) and even "superfine gunpowder". Surely not, I thought. Maybe as it was near the curries they meant hot chillies that go off like a cracker in your mouth. I was tempted to buy some and bring it home, but we just settled for the milk.

( Backpackers I'm guessing)

(No, not a vegetarian)

And meanwhile in Paris