Two years ago, I traveled to Italy’s heel – Puglia and its Salento. I took my time discovering the gems of the region – the whitewashed old towns and cliffs lining the seas, fishing villages and beaches that were each worthy of time and attention, the countryside dotted with ancient olive trees, the hills and valleys and conical “Trulli” houses, fresh fish and pasta and conversations with locals that left you longing to stay… Each day was filled to the brim with exhilaration and inspiration, with my senses overloaded, heart overflowing, and stomach in a giddy knot (not to mention full of orecchiette).
There were three towns that I was aching to see, and those three towns did steal my heart. But one place – a place that I can only roughly point to on a map, a place that is more between two towns than in a town itself, a place that wasn’t even in that “top three” of mine – unexpectedly filled me with life, dreams, peace and quietude in a way that had me speechless and moved to tears.
What was special about my time in the masseria was not about tourism, but rather, the exact opposite.
You feel as though you want to savor every bite and every sip, for as long as you can. You feel your mind tell you that this day surely ranks among your top three in life so far. You feel your heart tell you to listen carefully. You feel inspired to have big dreams and to go where they may lead. You just feel.