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After a 45-minute drive past ugly bungalows and industrial areas, we’re ready to turn around and go home — to give up our annual family holiday. Puglia is not your traditional tourist destination, and we can see why.
But then, suddenly, we reach a spot between the foothills of the Appenines and the Adriatic. The air is filled with the scent of figs and there are monumental olive trees, more beautiful than any I’ve ever seen. Their trunks are knotted and gnarled, and they stand in the fields like giant soldiers.
Via Italian Summers (Lisa van de Pol)
