If Italy is the elegant, over-the-knee boot plunged into the Mediterranean, then Puglia is the narrow peninsula that forms its spiky stiletto heel. The word that springs to mind regarding Puglia is trullo — miniature stone structures that look like igloos, and in my experience are the ideal devices to convince your kids to holiday with you. Why would they choose an eight-day party in Croatia when they can stay in cute white circular mini-houses, with an infinity pool in front? Even better, you could go for a trulli hotel, complete with that Puglian speciality, the beach pool.
And into these beach pools wade the Italians, with their indifferent attitude to bathing in public. They aren’t for exercise. They’re for lounging, lolling, chilling and chatting — and most probably smoking — while wearing jewellery, an impossibly deep tan, and coiffed hair. And that’s just the men. The women take it further, in neon-bright bikinis and a full face of make-up. To hell with beach-ready bodies, they’re here for the pool party.
While the Milanese would not be seen dead on any beach wearing anything but stark, convent black, the further south you go in Italy, the more colourful is the holiday attire. The highlight of 2015 was a model dressed as a mermaid in a scanty iridescent green top half, and a matching fish bottom with a full-length tail that she could swim in. Well, flap up and down, at least.
Why can’t we be more like that? Brits would say: ‘Ooh we found this marvelous cove, and not a soul in it!’ We congratulate ourselves on our isolationism. In southern Italy, a beach isn’t a beach without rows of parasols, a car park, sun loungers by the mile, a huge thriving café, loud pop music, and every few metres the obligatory pop-up clothes shop, with sarongs fluttering in the breeze.
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