Words by Will Doyle
Photographs by Renae Smith & Will Doyle
It is 6 p.m. on a perfect blue sky summer’s evening in one of Puglia’s many enchanting coastal cities, Monopoli. The air is still a warm 26 degrees as I wind my way through the paese vecchio (old town) of this ancient place, toward the Adriatic Sea and the aperitivo bar where my cousin and her friends wait.
I am 45 minutes late. I have been using Italy’s trains.
The rustic city is alive and breathing, as locals and Italian tourists pour into the streets, like fresh air into antique lungs, to commence the first of many evening walks. A group of men play cards in a cardboard box on a bench. Children kick a football in the narrow allies. A military jet roars overhead on its seemingly pointless daily flight along Italy’s south coast. And as the sun slowly softens into the sparkling blue sea, there is some reprieve in the cool, salty breeze that swirls around me, carrying the scent of clean laundry and cooked basil.
For a moment it is almost as if nothing is different. The smells are nostalgic, the sights and sounds are typical, the trains are late - this could be any summer in Italy. Except, I remind myself, it is not.
By the beginning of July 2020, over 34,000 people in Italy were estimated to have lost their lives to COVID-19. The south of Italy, particularly Puglia, emerged relatively unscathed, though not without a still tragic number of lives lost.
Italy eased itself out of lockdown over May and June without much controversy, and with the darkness of the first half of the year behind them, the nation’s people rejoiced as they experienced freedom again, albeit in a ‘new Italy’ of social-distancing, le mascherine (face masks) and excessive hygiene courtesy of an abundance of hand sanitiser dispensers.
Seizing the opportunity, I booked a last-minute flight to Bari. My rationale - I am fortunate enough to be healthy and to be able to afford it, I have holiday leave available at this precise time, and I was willing to respect all safety regulations and rules put in place in Italy and Puglia (including printing a confusing range of forms for my flight and keeping track of every place I visit). Plus, maybe with a bit of extra cash from a now-rare foreign tourist, some local Italian businesses in this ‘new Italy’ could stay afloat – all of this seemed compelling enough for me.
So what does this new Italy entail for the humble traveller?
Astonishingly it is not all too different from the old one. I was able to visit 7 cities in 5 days, spanning 200km, without a hire care (using Italy’s public transport ), relatively unrestricted. I ate an incredible array of Italian favourites. I swam at several pristine beaches. I saw the insides of baroque churches, sat on the walls of Roman era amphitheatres and got lost in the classic house-lined ravines and narrow streets that we surrender ourselves to whenever we visit this magnificent country.
All I had to do was comply with the three simple rules in place at the time – “wear a mask, keep social distancing, wash your hands.”
Italians have valiantly enforced social distancing, so much so that being outside before 6 p.m. made many of the cities dotted along Italy’s heel feel like ghost towns – although this is perhaps better attributed to an absence of foreign tourists, and the fact that locals don’t typically venture too far into the open while the sun is high.
Ostuni, the White City (Citta Bianca) visible on its mount from many miles away and girded by millions of olive trees, was eerily quiet, with many of its classic piazzas, picturesque bright nooks and labyrinthine alleyways entirely uninhabited.
I had Alberobello’s distinct trulli huts all to myself, and wandering the hilly district on which many of these curious settlements were established, I saw what would have been a fraction of the people hunting for their perfect Insta shot as compared to the usual masses on their seasonal holiday. This truly was experiencing an Italian summer like never before.
I suppose it is RIP free walking tours…for now.
Otranto and Gallipoli, being wonderful seaside towns, were perhaps slightly busier given the dazzling weather, but again most of the people I observed were Italian tourists or locals. Polignano a Mare’s main beach by Grotta Piana was often busy, but finding a socially distant spot for your towel and a swim was not too difficult, and the crowds could be avoided with an early morning dip.
I observed a chef, Francesco, who wore a face mask and chef’s jacket with his name hand-stitched into the sides as he prepared my Orecchiette alla Pugliese in Alberobello’s Il Ristorante La Cantina – safety with style in an Italian kitchen.
Accommodation wise, I stayed at B&B Relais Del Senatore in Polignano a Mare where I enjoyed breathtaking views of the Adriatic at sunrise and sunset from the comfort of my bed (a truly perfect place to stay), and Dimora Storica Muratore luxury rooms in Lecce, a vibrant and modern interior set in an old mansion with the best breakfast I’ve ever had at an Italian B&B. Both B&Bs were exceptionally considerate of the circumstances and placed a huge emphasis on hygiene and cleanliness, with distancing respected and hand sanitiser available. In Lecce I was even treated to a mandatory temperature check and was able to purchase face masks – I was very impressed with the priority for safety.
Despite the new measures in place, I could see that some of Italy’s oldest traditions had experienced radical changes to adjust to the new way of life.
Take for example the patrons in Gallipoli’s Basilica Cattedrale di Sant'Agata, where there were no more than 30 people in a beautiful old church with 200 capacity. The priest now hand delivers communion to the mouths of the faithful around the church, with their face masks coming down briefly to consume the host. This is the reality of attending mass in Italy, and despite their vulnerability, many of Italy’s older inhabitants maintain a steadfast devotion to their religion, even if it means risking their health.
On another occasion, I saw two senior Italian men creaking toward each other at a snail’s pace in an archetypal Lecce street. As they met, they touched elbows to greet each other. It was an adorable moment to witness and a sign that even the oldest members of the population have adapted to this new country – all the while, the warmth of the old world remains.
But even the mask I have firmly wrapped around my nose and mouth cannot deny the heavenly flavour of this place. You can still find the best pizza (it was Il Pizzicotto in Lecce) and the best gelati (it was a pistachio variant I had in Martinucci in Polignano a Mare). The risks are there for travellers but if you can observe the requirements and maintain common sense, then the delights of southern Italy are still yours to explore.
Back to Monopoli, where we began - I arrive at the bar, CarloQuinto, and apologise profusely to my cousin, but she is just happy to seem me, and I her. The bar is situated right on one of Monopoli’s eastern sea walls and promenades, we have endless views of the Adriatic Sea under a pristine canopy. Neither of us can believe we are both there. A glass of something is thrust in front me, and an array of zucchini, capocollo (a typical Southern Italian ham from Martina Franca), calamari, artichoke and olives are shoved right under my nose. I am, once again, utterly enchanted.
“I am glad that people are once again coming to Italy” she tells me. And I am glad too.
