We press on down the Adriatic coast past San Benedetto, Roseto degli Abruzzi, Montesilvano and Pescara which we decide to take a quick look at but finding nothing of especial interest, drive straight out again.  Then further south still past Ortona, Vasto and Termoli and we finally reach Apricena where, stopping at a service station and seeing the array of ‘suppli’ and other Pugliese food on offer we realise we’ve reached Puglia. ‘Suppli’ are mozzarella and ham or meat-filled rice balls or cones often eaten as antipasti. They used to be served at the Italian Club restaurant at the back of the Italian consulate in Boulaq in Cairo – sadly, it’s very doubtful this will still be open after the attack on the consulate not long ago. These suppli were giant-sized and easily make a meal in themselves.

The spur that is the promontory just above the heel of Italy is called the ‘Gargano National Park’.  It is an area of outstanding natural beauty.  Having driven inland on the main autostrada which circumvents it we decided it would be a shame to miss it so we turned eastward at San Severo to rejoin the coastal road. We got onto a very narrow and long natural corridor between the Adriatic to our left and the vast Varano Lake to our  right before negotiating the impossibly windy and mountainous road tracing the outline of the spur.  It was gone 8pm and we had been on the road since lunchtime so were getting quite desperate to find a suitable campsite.  A couple of places we stopped at on the ‘corridor’ turned out to be large holiday camp places that couldn’t be further removed from our idea of relaxation so we pressed on round vertiginous bends as the sun was setting. At one point we had to brake suddenly when an apparently  stray horse appeared on the road.  It had obviously somehow got out of its enclosure and another horse, within the enclosure was looking out with concern. We stopped a car coming out of a country lane further down the road and raised the alarm.  Luckily, they knew who it belonged to saying it had happened before and that they’d deal with it. That was a relief.

The place we found in the end – the Molinella Camping Village just south of the beautiful little town of Vieste – turned out to be our best campsite in Italy to date!  Situated at the very tip of the ankle bone in the heel of Italy and looking out to Podgorica or Tirana across the Adriatic. Molinella was a lovely place on the beach and with lots of shade, good loos and very friendly staff and other (mainly Italian) campers, what more could you want.  Fewer and less noisy daytime and evening activities perhaps but that would be going a tad too far! The sea was warm and crystal clear and cried out to be swum in.

We cycled into Vieste, once a busy fishing port but now dependent almost entirely on the holiday season.  Many of its young people, we were told, leave to look for work in the cities, a tale repeated in many parts of Italy. It had a small fort built by Frederic II who we came to realise is a great hero for the Pugliese, who refer to him variously as ‘Puer Apulia’ (son of Apulia), Frederick of Swabia and ‘stupor mundi’ (wonder of the world).  In medieval times, Vieste was frequently attacked by pirates and Saracens and the enemies of the Kingdom of Naples. According to Wikipedia, in 1554 around 5,000 inhabitants were executed by the Turks on the grounds that they were too elderly or infirm to merit transportation into slavery. As we climbed up to the fort we asked an elderly man if that was true. “Hanno ucciso 2,000” he said, so locals still remember it even if the figures differ.  For lunch we picked the least fussy little restaurant with barely room for a few tables on the pavement but which  served revived old Pugliese recipes.  Flavio got on particularly well with Nicola the owner who, when he found out they were exactly the same age (61) rushed in and came out again with two shots of Limoncello. Explaining that Nicola (pronounced with the stress on the ‘o’) is the most popular name in Bari – after its patron saint – he launched into a song by Nicola di Bari Flavio likes very much called “Il cuore e uno zingaro” (the heart is a gypsy).

“Che colpa ne ho s’el cuore e uno zingaro e va, Catene non ha, il cuore e uno zingaro e va, Finche trovera il prato piu verde che c’e, Raccogliera le stelle su di se, E si fermera chissa e si fermera.”  (What can I do, if the heart wanders like a gypsy, Chains it has not, the heart wanders like a gypsy, Till it finds the greenest of prairies, It can but continue gathering stars for itself, And one day, who knows, it will stop..it will stop..)

Back at Molinella, it was siesta time.  The sign said quiet must be maintained between 2-5pm.

Taking advantage of the quiet time to catch up on the blog at the cafe, pretty soon surrounded by a group of kids noisily setting about doing their holiday ‘compiti’ (homework). Non-stop chatter of course. Hard to concentrate. A brother and sister start squabbling and one simple question about what the problem is and they’re off.  Nicole, Alessandro, Martina, Julia and Georgia are all asking and answering questions at the same time.  “What? no holiday homework in England?  What? Only 6 weeks summer holidays?” “Are you two sisters?”  No, she’s my sister, says Alessandro – I wish she wasn’t, I’d be much happier if she wasn’t”.  “When do you start learning English at school?” ” Prima elementare for a first language and prima secondaria for a second.” What do you choose?” Either French, Spanish or German.”  French seemed to be the favourite.  “We come here every year.  We haven’t met anyone from England who speaks Italian like you.” “I’m an Italian from Egypt” “Ooh, Egitto?” “What do you know about Egypt?”  Everyone gets up and starts striking pharaonic poses and dances.  “There’s more to Egypt than that.” “Do I speak with an accent?” “Maybe a little bit”. “It’s been lovely to meet you all.  Good luck with your compiti”.

Leaving Molinella we have to pass through Vieste again.  A market seems to be in full swing.  It’s so refreshing to see a market bursting with colorful and irresistible local produce – endless varieties of olives, peppers, herbs, olive oil, salamis and cheeses.  Though we mustn’t as nothing keeps for long in Brenda, we feel obliged to purchase something so pick up some fresh oregano and cacciacavallo cheese (which, four countries later in Greece, we still haven’t quite finished).  Cacciacavallo by the way is where the popular Egyptian ‘cashcaval’ comes from.