Here We Are in Trulli-Land

We are surrounded, I mean totally encased in a countryside filled with trulli. Here, in the Itria Valley, these fairytale-like conical structures look like beehives from another planet altogether. They are constructed in layers upon layers of limestone and each is topped with a symbol or simply a ball, making the building look like a party hat. On many, large icons are painted onto the front exterior. We've learned that these signify some type of a Keeping-up-with-, the-Jones in the neighborhoods.  Several thousand of them dot the countryside here. It's important to remember that they aren't  some part of a Disneyland display, too good to be true. Diminutive in size, they serve as homes, farmsteads, guest houses and more. 

We're near the beautiful town of Alberobello, forty miles south of the port city, Bari, in Martina Franca. The sounds of nature and an occasional toot as a car rounds the narrow bend in the road just beyond our front door, pretty much describe the days. Nights are crystal clear and silent. When I looked out of the window last night, I felt as if I were looking at a Christmas card. Sapphire blue night sky, punctuated by tiny lights, spread apart from home to home over the spanse of acres. Early mornings, the roosters. Later morning, cows mooing in the distance. Birds chirping all day.  Doves cooing. Farm machinery. Agriculture is the heart and soul of Puglia. The sun is brilliant, the sky blue. A gentle breeze seems to never end when we sit on the upper outdoor deck.  

At the moment, the temperature inside my little personal paradise, my get-away trullo, is absolutely perfect. I feel as if I am in a spa or, at the very least, a little stone cavern, very far away from reality. I think I may have just been joined by a lizard.  I saw a tail behind a piece of furniture. Maybe a mouse? Funny how that thought does not undermine my tranquility. I doubt that anything could.

While traffic and tourism is not the same as in other regions, we still feel the need to come back "home" after venturing out and rarely do we eat anywhere but here. Yes, I cook. Yes, we shop for groceries. And, yes, the activities of daily living are still a challenge after all these years. Living in a foreign language does not come easy to me. While I have studied the language for many years, I don't use it every day and still can only speak, what I can, in the present tense as did the American soldiers here during the war, we're told. We've had too long a gap, thanks to the Pandemic, and we basically have to re-learn much of what used to come so naturally to us in earlier travels. Different from a lot of other areas, very few people here speak English. We never presume that one does. But, we manage.

Basically, can one imagine an Italian tourist on Cape Cod, asking everyone if they spoke Italian? Some rules apply no matter where we go. And, no matter where we go, there we are.