Eating Our Way Through Southern Italy

Using my great grandfather’s travel book/diary from 1872, I’m headed to a thinly travelled area of Italy that even modern tour books have yet to probe – Puglia. Along with most of southern Italy, until the 60’s or so, this area was the forgotten Italy filled with peasants living off the land and only remembered when the State needed bodies for fighting wars, taxes for paying for war, or labor to support the large estates of the wealthy or rarely if ever visited their olive, almond, grape and other crops. The area is so poor the fascists would send their political prisoners therein the 30’s as described in amazing detail in Levi’s account of his years there “Christ stopped at Eboli”.

I tried to read everything about the area, but as the author of my second and final book, Mark Rotella, confirmed, there’s really not much. I’m finishing Rotella’s book in the airport and as I look at my map, realize he’s actually in the more southern part of Italy, Calabria. No matter, still offers enough insight into this fascinating history of cultural and human survival despite consistent neglect,death, emigration, and complete hopelessness.

In writing his book, “Stolen Figs”, Rotella provides a great modern overview of what I can expect traveling by car from each small town to the next. His detailed accounts of discovery and the 13 or so pages in our Southern Italy guidebook, are about all we have found to prepare us. Us – my mom, sister Alice, and myself. Join us on our journey into the caves, grottos, trullias, and vineyards of Italy’s Puglia region. I’ll post updates in the evening as we all opted out of turning on our data during the day. Also, typing on the iPad and phone is tough. Ignore typos! Hope we can all follow the map. American Express says they have two countries where car collision coverage isn’t offered – Italy is one.

Day 1: We are in the Atlanta airport 4 hours before our departure as Mom didn’t want to miss this flight. We don’t care as I’ve determined the international gate is some great people watching. Our transgender waitress proves to be an unexpected sommelier and the piano player is the perfect backdrop for our apps and wine. Taking a quick tour of the gates amenities I find my 1998 Gold card not honored in the Sky Club but am redirected to the bar in the smoking section.I walk in and immediately feel homeless and scratch the malt liquor itch. Who knew this hidden smoking room had an honor system bar? They were not friendly in there though. Headed back to our seat of serenade, I spritz up with about one of everything at the Duty Free shop. Lots of lotion and spritz later I feel it never happened.

International air travel gets more unpleasant the older one gets. I can’t recall my legs cramping so soon nor the food being so unexceptional. But we survived and are in Italy. Elvis from Romania met us at the airport as designed and whizzed us onto the sunny Roman streets. We wait in the train station for our first class ride into the South of Italy and who knows what.

We enjoy talking to the drivers about their lives and what brought them to drive cab for a living. I’d visited Romania when living in Hungary one year and enjoyed asking Elvis about his country, particularly places I’d been, Transylvania and Brasov mainly. He was a great guide, pointing out important sites as we passed. I tried writing it all down but in Rome, what at first seems an amazing architectural treasure soon becomes just another big dig. It’s impressive all they seem to be doing to preserve and protect though. Seemed something new is always being discovered here. From afar, we were able to see the much of old Rome including Tentro Martello and the Forum. We circled Mussolini’s massive monument and I also recognized a lovely old building where Eric and I ate one evening when he was here studying. That was the last time I was in Rome I guess: pregnant with Katherine eleven years ago. Eric was in class and I’d walk the streets of Rome following the recommendations of a boutique shopping guidebook. Every afternoon I’d always seem to find myself back at the forum, wandering around and reading Claudius the God – again.

It was fun being in a train station again though I didn’t miss my backpack. I’ve always associated the smells and sounds with anticipating the unknown. Getting off at one station, finding the departure sign and picking the next spot to discover. There was even an old pay phone at the station. We used to buy phone cards at the tabak, figure out the new calling scheme for whatever country we were in and start calling hostels listed in Let’s Go Europe. Living in Hungary, I’d also use these to call home. Of course I see how the internet and cell phones have completely transformed the way we travel. I don’t miss using the pay phone and no one else seems to either. It’s not used once in the three hours I watch it. Follow us tomorrow as we head out of Bari deeper south!