I know what you think I’m going to say - when we got to Brindisi it was freezing. Well, no, it actually wasn’t. The sun was shining bravely and we grabbed a cab from the train station to the airport where we had scheduled to pick up our car I often wonder about that (well not exactly “often” but definitely “sometimes”). Why is it so less common/easy to be able to rent a car at a major train station than it is at an airport? And rental car companies rarely offer shuttle from train stations to airports for their customers.
But back to the weather. It’s spring here in Puglia and the wild flowers are blooming everywhere. Someone said that flowers are just weeds that have learned to grow in rows. These poppies clearly have designs on making it into local gardens.
The next bit explains a key difference between the north of Italy (which considers itself the sophisticated, industrious and intellectual heart of the country) and the south (which doesn’t). The former farm where we stay has an outdoor patio where they serve breakfast but, on our first morning, it was being served inside - because it was too cold. The owner’s characterization was “Disastro”. This is one of those times where you realize your subconscious Italian vocabulary has one more word in it. It was May and it was a disaster not to be able to eat breakfast on the patio.
In Italian, the type of establishment we stay in is called a “masseria”. The best comparison I can think of is to the country house of a gentleman farmer in Britain . (Think of families in Poldark). The houses are big and are surrounded by many other buildings that have been converted into accommodation for guests. They usually sit in the middle of the farm which, in this part of Italy, means acres and acres of olive groves. The older trees can be hundreds of years old and are planted in neat rows with the gnarled trunks about fifteen feet or so apart. Whatever land is not given over to olive trees is dedicated to vineyards - these people have their priorities right.
People work hard on the farms here - even the dogs are tired by 7:30 am
While Italy is only the second largest producer of olive oil (Spain produces twice as much), the Apulia region (Puglia) where Brindisi is produces 45% of the olives for Italian oil. This means that there are about 75 million olive trees in Puglia alone, more than one tree for every man, woman and child in the whole country. As I write this, I realize that this phrase (“every man, woman and child”) is one of those that may have to be re-formulated to take account of modern sensitivities (at least in the States) but I got too confused trying to even work out where to start.
Our masseria only serves breakfast and the options include cake. Freshly baked on the farm with local fruits and other fillings. Only a sliver (or two…). The focaccia too is freshly baked and a Lori favorite.
Lori’s pre-launch activity - thinking about fresh Italian food
Our pre-boat plan has been refined over the years and we have a pretty good formula. We expect the outstanding work on the yard’s part and on our part to take two weeks. So we spend the first week off the boat trying to keep out of the way while simultaneously trying to keep the work on schedule. This year we arrived in time to see True Colors launched.
During this week we can take things a little easy and do a little sight-seeing. We went back to Lecce (one of our favorite places here). In Lecce there is a column on the top of which is a statue of the local patron saint, St. Oronzo. There’s a Brindisi connection here. The column is one of the two that marked the end of the Roman Appian Way from Rome to Brindisi. The other is still in Brindisi. The column is being restored and the statue has been taken down and we can get a closer look at the details.
You have to feel a bit for the sculptor though. The dialog must have gone something like this.
“Signor, we have some good news for you”.
“What’s the news?”
“You are commissioned to sculpt a statue of St. Oronzo.”
“Wow!” Where will it be?
“In the main square of Lecce.”
“Wow! And will lots of people see my work?”
“Of course.”
“Wow! And will they be able to appreciate my skill and craftsmanship?”
“Er, sadly not really.”
“Why?”
“It will be on the top of a column 100 ft high that you have to squint into the sun to get a good view of?”
“Shit! I mean, thank you my lords.”
Can you tell that Lecce is a university town? This is the music for their craft fair.
And these are some of the crafts
We added San Vito dei Normanni and Mesagne to our list. Most of the hill towns in Puglia have attractive old centers with narrow alleyways. Of these, Ostuni is the best known but some of the others are quite striking. While, sadly, San Vito is not one of them, Mesagne most definitely is.
It has a tiny center inside the old walls with some wonderful buildings and restaurants. The food highlights here were tuna tartare
followed by veal cheeks in red wine sauce. Amazingly rich and tender but perhaps a little too much for lunch!
It was also an opportunity to go back to Bari which is about 100km north of Brindisi. And another opportunity to try the Italian railway system. Bari has great shopping with many designer stores - it’s not yet sale season so Lori was well-behaved. We also found a part of the town we didn’t visit the last time - it’s called something ambiguous and unenticing like “the historic center”. Don’t have any idea how we failed to find it last year.
Organic food is becoming more obvious in Italy (but I can’t imagine, with their general quality and traditional farming, that they really need to push this). Nevertheless we ate at an organic restaurant with a superb fritto misto and a lovely Chardonnay. A local specialty, which we had as a starter, is called “Tiella”. This is a baked dish of mussels, rice, potatoes and tomatoes. The rice and potato blend seems odd in concept but it is delicious.
Apologies for a photo other than our own but this one gives a better impression
Our masseria has a sister property about 2 kilometers away which does serve dinner and we try to go there once during our visit. Once is enough because it’s a four-course meal with a set menu. So we book; and we turn up at the restaurant; and we are the only diners; they opened the restaurant just for us. In other parts of the world this might be embarrassing or uncomfortable but not in Puglia. At one end of the restaurant, the owners and their families are having dinner and at the other so are we. It is all pleasant, relaxed and thoroughly enjoyable.
One of the things about being married to a realtor is that you spend idle moments looking at the ads for houses for sale and for the furniture to put in them. (Well I know, but we don’t have a TV on the boat so the Brexit saga is unavailable to us). And this is where the intimidating Italian design comes in.
The residents of non-Italian countries are systematically intimidated by the brand that covers Italy and most things Italian. We are sold this image of the quintessential Italian couple. He is an art historian and professional cliff-diver. He has 0% body fat, a classic red roadster and his name is Marcello.
Her name is Giulia and it’s not entirely clear what she does but she is always beautifully dressed and coiffed even when she gets off her Vespa motor scooter. They live in a large, stylish, modern apartment with designer furniture, natural fabrics and stone and a window that opens onto a view of some iconic Italian monument.
I’ve got news for you - this is all marketing.
The average Italian home that we’ve seen on the market is comparatively small (particularly by US standards), traditionally furnished and, most surprisingly, seems to have only a small kitchen. If Italians are cooking classic dinners in these areas, they must really know some organizational secrets that we don’t. In the ads we saw, bathrooms are also on the small side but do almost always feature a bidet. Of course, we don’t know what Marcello and Giulia have in this respect because they don’t ever seem to need to use one. And in the real old towns of Italy windows tend to open onto narrow streets with other buildings on the other side.
So the good news here is that our idols have feet of clay (or furniture that comes from IKEA).
But the bad news is that this doesn’t stop you from being intimidated (even in the nicest possible way). Four years ago when we came to our boatyard and we were drinking coffee in our mugs in the morning, we’d offer some of the workers a coffee. They’d look at us with an amused but pitying expression and say “That’s not coffee”. We run the risk of being classified coffee-wise as “American”. This is actually a real problem. if you go into a coffee bar and ask for a “cafe” while appearing (or sounding) American they will give a large cup full of American-style coffee which they made by drowning an espresso in hot water. If you go into the same coffee bar and ask for a “cafe” while not appearing American, you will get an espresso just like everyone else does.
So we’d been thinking about getting a little espresso machine for the boat (the intimidation thing); we do research and boil the choice down to an Italian machine from Bialetti and a Nespresso machine like the ones we have at home. We test the Bialetti and it is good. We ask the nice Italian lady in the Bialetti store what’s the difference between Bialetti and Nespresso? We get the same amused but pitying look that we get in the boatyard. She answers “Nespresso is good coffee, but this is good Italian coffee”. End of discussion (apparently); we buy the Bialetti.
And as you can see, it’s undeniably well-designed and cute. It also makes good coffee.
The second week of our pre-sailing activities we spend on the boat trying to be just politely annoying enough to keep the necessary people focused on our boat. This gives us the opportunity to get some exercise by walking into the little village next to the yard and shopping at the little stores - greengrocer, butcher, baker and meat/cheese shop. It also gives us the opportunity to ‘murder” some Italian much to the amusement and confusion of the locals. But they like us.
The third week (yes, this is the third week of two) is chasing down the last, last, last-minute items and waiting, ready to go, for much longer than we would like. This year the very last item was a couple of new dock lines (ropes). Now every yard, chandlery, marina etc. has these. We choose some “from stock”. It still takes five days for them to travel less than half a mile to our boat.
But tonight we set sail for Croatia!