heel to toe

Do you know what caper is? If you don’t… Every town, city, roadside, alleyway or ruin we’ve been to has caper growing out of its crevices. A little photo essay:

Our few days in Scilla were special. Quiet, restful, lovely dinners and lots of walking. There is a perpetual adoration chapel in the big church by the castle so that was a quiet place for prayer. We drove up the Tyrennian sea coast and again through the mountains to get to Naples. Take the toll roads, My friends. So many tunnels. And so we arrive in Naples, have a hotel cafuffle and settle in after, you guessed it, pizza. and here’s our new digs for the next couple of days: This morning: Church bound.

Last night we arrived at our destination in Scilla around dusk. We were overwhelmed with the beauty of the place, and it was almost dark, so that says something about it. After some rest and an excellent dinner, we went to bed anticipating the morning views. Not disappointed. We spent about three hours walking the town (steep, as seen, lotta stairs…) up to the castle and the church where for twenty years there has been perpetual adoration. The castle from 500 BC. Scilla remains a fishing village, swordfish is the hot take.

We started our journey across the southern regions in Bari. From there we crossed the top of the heel to the Ionian Sea, and rambled along the coast for some time. Then the highway cut diagonally across the instep to the top of the toe. We’re almost at our destination, the seaside town of Scilla as our home base for the next few days as we explore. I’m still not allowed to drive, so Albert has to do all the driving. It’s suits us both because he hates being a passenger.

This morning we head through Puglia and Basilicata to Calabria, which encompasses the entire toe area. Our last day in Puglia yesterday was spent amongst three of the white washed towns - the Greek influenced towns of Locorotondo, Martina Franca and Ostuni. We started with the smallest, a village, really. Locorotondo is one of the prettiest towns I’ve seen in Italy. Sparkling white, narrow alleys, flowers on every porch and balcony. Only barely touched by tourism, this is a little town that I would love to come back to and stay a few days. Precious. Martina Franca was larger and clearly more visited, also beautiful with an exceptional Cathedral and piazza lined in coffee shops and oak trees. Named for St. Martin, this is also the traditional town of capocollo. The pigs from which said deli meat is derived, range in the oak forest outside of Martina, feed on the acorns dropped there and, once butchered, the shoulders of these entitled pigs are smoked with the wood of the very same oak t...

We’re on our long haul back from Lecce, where, as it happens, there is some remarkable Baroque architecture. This was a well heeled area back in the day and there arose from that churches and palaces with all the ornate hardware of the style, but with a lightness and elegance that was breathtaking. It was warm and breezy, pastel and tranquil. I’ll throw some architectural elements your way, please indulge me. Hard to resist a putto with an angelic or cheeky expression. After Lecce, we went to Otranto, a lovely seaside village that houses the largest mosaic in Europe. If you’ve been to Europe, you’ll read into that large with a capital (or upper case) L. The monk, Pantaleone went bananas here and I’ll include this link in case you don’t believe me. I took these pics because the names of two of my sons are represented. *Cayn* is not one of them. The colour of the water. And then lunch. I can’t even.