Another Italian village, another set of winding streets. Locorontondo was as quiet as Alberobello was crowded. Empty white, plant lined streets.Cobblestones leading past closed shops. Finally, an open place to eat cornered at the end of an alley, one of the best meals I’ve ever had.
Fresh and unique, traditional to the region.
One thing that has struck me about Puglia is how little English anyone speaks. It’s more untouched. We are obvious guests; none of this is ours, yet we are so welcome. Ciao, grazie, preggo.
Locorontondo is on a hill. We walked along the edges of the old town, looking out across the whole of the countryside, below. There was a simple vineyard, an old man sitting on his steps on its edge. And there were cats, at least 10, and they just kept coming to the man. He was so happy! Eventually, he stood up and walked into the vines to feed them.
An old Italian man feeding cats in his vineyard, in the sun.
Locorontondo, Puglia region of Italy, October