A pleasant surprise

The flight from Hong Kong to and from Taipei is always scheduled at almost two hours, but the reality is that the flight is normally only a little bit more than an hour.  I'm assuming the extra time is a built in buffer to provide for delays, but all my trips have always been incredibly fast, with the flight feeling like it's over before you've even really eaten.

As we stood at the counter to check in to our flight, the air stewardess smiled at me and told me that they had an upgrade for me to premium economy.  I looked at her, then looked at my family.  Was this just for me or was it for my wife and child as well?  She checked.  It was just for me.  No thank you I responded.  I would stay with my family.  She looked a bit confused, but continued on with checking us in. I didn't think much more of it.  We took our tickets and we made our way upstairs to security and immigration.

Veronica wanted to look at some more snacks before we went through so we were slightly delayed before we reached the line for security.  From the corner of my eye, I could see someone running to us.  Someone wearing the distinct red uniform of a Cathay stewardess.... 

Our stewardess was in a desperate rush to find us.  Her supervisor had spoken to her and instructed her to run and find us and we were all being upgraded to business!  I wasn't going to say no to that this time.  I had no idea why this sudden and unexpected boon was arranged for us.  I suspected that it was because they had already sold my economy seat and so needed to move me out of it one way or another. Whatever the reason, I wasn't complaining.

For such a short flight, I would never ever pay a dollar extra for any upgrade.  It simply wasn't worth it.  But now that we were here for free, I was going to enjoy it.  The food was better and so was the quality of alcohol.  Veronica has never been a huge fan of Taiwanese lu ruo fan, and yet somehow they managed to make one of the best she had ever eaten on this flight.

Traveling with Pickle during the day, this extra space was also great for us with Pickle.  We spread out and gave him lots of room to play.  I stood up and walked around, stretched my legs and went searching for snacks.  With the large area, Pickle seemed more than entertained with his toys and books.  In what seemed like the briefest of moments, the seatbelt lights came on again and the captain announced we were descending.

Super Typhoon Ragasa

So another super typhoon had come and gone in Hong Kong.

We had been given ample warning and everyone was prepared for the worst.  In the end, it seemed to be bad, but the impact didn't appear to be as bad as some of the other super typhoons I had experienced in the past.  Even during the peak and worst of it, it didn't sound or feel as bad as what we were prepared for.  I wasn't complaining too much, it was always better to be prepared than shocked in these situations.

The next day, on my walk to the bus stop, I could see the aftermath of the storm.  There was debris everywhere and some fallen trees.  Nothing unexpected.

What was more impressive though was the quick cleanup that followed.  This was the case with every typhoon that hit Hong Kong, but it didn't make it any less astounding.

Within a day of my walk through the debris, the sidewalks had already been cleared and there was a constant drone of machinery and chainsaws dealing with some of the larger problems.

Over the next few days, workers continued to fix up and clean up the streets.  Broken things were repaired.  Unsalvageable things were taken away.  The speed of it all never ceased to amaze and impress.
 

A Hellenic adventure

I have hit the sweet spot with work travel.  I don't have to travel too often as for it to become a painful chore, nor so infrequently that it becomes some overly precious experience to be obsessed over.  It was a good position to be in.  I felt I appreciated it whenever it happened and yet it didn't interfere with my life.  I think it's a very rare position to be in.  Most people I know usually sit in the other two camps.  I have friends who have to travel weekly for work and it seems they truly hate it and the impact it causes on their day to day lives.  On the other hand, those who don't travel at all (the position I used to be in) seem to often have an overly idealised of work travel.

I was told I needed to go to Greece for a work event.  I wasn't complaining about this at all.  I had never even been to Greece and the idea that I was being sent there for work was something beyond what my younger self could have ever imagined or even dreamed of.  With my own ticket booked, I went online to search for a ticket for Veronica as well.  Looking at the ticket prices, I was shocked to see that the first class tickets were only ever so slightly higher than the other options. It seemed like a mistake.  I looked more closely and decided that this wasn't the time to question and so I quickly booked.  Never look a gift horse in the mouth after all.

The day of our departure came quickly.  I had managed to keep everything a surprise from Veronica. It wasn't until almost the last moment as we were checking in that she realised, when I directed her from the usual line towards the fancier line that had its own carpet.  This was a one off treat for her and a nice early birthday present!

One extra perk of this was it meant we were able to visit the first class lounge at HKIA.  Neither of us had ever been, and I was able to go in with Veronica as her guest.  It was a beautiful lounge, very understated and not at all flashy or ostentatious.  Whoever had designed and created it had clearly followed a brief of maintaining class.  Yet, as nice as it all was, I didn't think it was necessarily the enormous leap above other lounges we had been fortunate enough to visit.  It seemed a ridiculous thing to think, but I guess once all the key factors of food, drink and comfort have been addressed, there are only so many degrees that you can ultimately improve them on.

The seat on the plane was a different story altogether.

We boarded the plane and immediately, there was Veronica's seat.  It wasn't one of the closed suites you sometimes see these days, but it was instead an enormous open planned "area".  Calling it a seat didn't seem accurate.  There was more than enough space for us to both sit comfortably, either next to her or seated in front of her on her personal ottoman.  The space was so large, even her entertainment screen seemed a little bit too far away.  I let Veronica get settled as I made my way further back.

The flight went quickly, and we were soon in Doha.  Our stopover was short, but we still had enough time to go for a walk through the lush and surprisingly large rainforest they had inside the terminal.  I often read and hear people compare the airport in Doha to Changi Airport, but for me it's not really a fair comparison.  Much of Changi Airport's attractions aren't even in the airport, but rather are in the shopping mall which is outside (though conveniently located very close).  It doesn't seem like a proper comparison to be judging an airport with an airport plus a shopping mall.

As we arrived at our gate in Doha, we saw the flight attendants frantic.  We gave them our boarding passes and they immediately began to scribble all over them.  There had been an aircraft change and all the seating had been thrown into disarray.  We boarded the plane not knowing what would be awaiting us, but were very pleasantly surprised to find that we had lucked out with a QSuite plane.

Arriving at Athens airport, we jumped in a cab which took us to the hotel outside of Athens.  By some strange coincidence, we had managed to chance upon a local Athenian taxi driver who was married to a girl from Hong Kong.  We chatted on the whole length of the drive to the hotel.  He gave us tips on how to deal with issues in Greece and told us all about his family.  It was a nice start to our time in Greece.

I showered, got changed and said goodbye to Veronica.  She would go and find her own fun for the evening.  I headed downstairs to the lobby to find my colleagues waiting.  The work would start the next day.  This evening, we were all headed off for dinner together to reconnect and to enjoy ourselves before we started.

It seemed a long time since we had left Hong Kong.

Boat party birthdays

Our friends were having a big birthday celebration on a boat out in Sai Kung.  We were happy to join them for the party.

A nice boat had been arranged and after a short trip we were all out next to some islands, enjoying the food, drinks and water.  I took Pickle in for a swim, but he seemed to be more interested in wandering around the boat itself. 

These days out on the water are a special part of living in Hong Kong.  I'm not one of those living here who ends up spending every possible weekend on the water, but when the opportunity is presented to me I'll usually try and take part.

With Pickle, there's now the added benefit of seeing him enjoy all these new experiences as well.  It's far removed from the simpler life I had growing up, but I'm happy that he gets to enjoy all these perks to the life we have.

Thunderstorms in Lamma

We were invited out to lunch at Lamma.

It had been a while since we had been and we were going to a new restaurant being raved about by everyone we knew.  So it was the perfect opportunity for a nice family outing.  

Taking the ferry across seemed to already be enough to keep Pickle entertained, but he seemed to also enjoy the lunch and the walk we had through the small streets of Lamma.

After lunch, I thought it would be nice for all of us to go for a walk over to some of the nice beaches of Lamma.  One of our friends at lunch had lived in Hong Kong his whole life and had never visited Lamma before.  This was shocking to me and I thought we needed to remedy this by showing him some of the more lovely parts of the island.  We trekked through the middle of the island and found ourselves standing of the pretty beaches on the other side.

It turns out this was a poor decision by me.

As we stood on the beach looking out and admiring the view.  The sky began to turn black.  We didn't take too much notice at first, but the change became starker and there was a dramatic feel to the sky.  We decided it was time to go.  Sadly for us, this decision had come too late and the skies opened on us just as we took our first few steps off the beach.

The rain came down in sheets, and we all huddled together under of the nearby sun shelters waiting for it to pass.

Rome with different sights

I had arranged for us to end our trip in Rome.

No trip to Italy would be complete for us without some time in the Eternal City.

We were staying next to the Curia di Pompeo again.  The last time we had been in Rome, we had stayed around this area.  It had been our honeymoon, and we had enjoyed looking out over the ancient ruins from our room.  This time, we were on the other side of the ruins. Our view looked similar, but our situation was anything but.  We had replaced the previous luxury with more practical accommodation to provide for our larger traveling group.  There were no complaints from us at all.  The place we found was convenient and well staffed.  Everything was clean, modern and well maintained.  All at a far more palatable price as well.

The next few days were spent leisurely enjoying our favourite city with our new favourite small toddler.

He had been nothing short of a fantastic traveler on our holiday.  There had certainly been some more difficult moments and some times when he wasn't as happy or compliant, but it was all part of the experience.  Given his young age and the long travel, none of these were really anything major.  He seemed to have enjoyed himself as well.

For this final leg of the trip, we had managed to convince Phil to make a trip to Rome.  He had some other friends whom he wanted to visit as well so it was a good opportunity for him. It was now two years running we had Phil grace us with his presence whilst we were in Europe so it seemed like this was becoming a tradition for us.

Dinners, lunches and sightseeing.  All done at a comfortable and casual pace.

It seemed all too pleasant for us.  Pickle loved having the extra attention of Phil and others and they seemed to also relish the youthful energy he had.

As with other parts of Italy, the staff at the restaurants adored Pickle.  They were always kind to us, but there was something about his cheekiness that seemed to bring out an extra level of happiness in them.  

We wandered around to small cafes.  Small bakeries and other places for snacks.  Phil seemed very happy for us to lead the way and we introduced him to some of our favourite places and dishes through Rome.  One evening, after dinner Pickle fell fast asleep in his pram and so we were able to wander down to the Tiber Festival, enjoying some of the music and atmosphere as he slept.

On our last day together with Phil, we decided to do something none of us had done before.  We set out sights on the National Monument as something new for everyone to experience together.  In all my trips to Rome over the years, I had somehow managed to completely avoid visiting.  I had been in the vicinity multiple times.  On the other side of it is one of the best if not the best museums in all of Italy in the Capitoline Museum.  Yet, this monument, with all of its grandeur and impressive size had somehow remained off my list of things to do.  Strangely enough this was also the case for Veronica and Phil, so today would be the day we remedied this.

It was indeed very impressive.

This wasn't an old and ancient edifice, instead being something built by Mussolini in order to hark back to the days of Rome.  But that didn't take away from just how grand and imposing it was.  It had a size and majesty to it that almost overawed.  The style was of course classical Roman, but since it hadn't endured the centuries of weathering, it remained much shiner and more polished, which added to the splendour it seemed to project.

We reached what the top and considered leaving.  For those new to Rome looking for something to do, the view from the very top of the National Monument is probably worth the admission alone.  Due to the size and its position, it provides one of the best unobstructed full views of all of Rome.  From the top, you could see far off into the distance and identify all the other famous landmarks of this lovely old city.

After our time at the top, we considered leaving.  We were feeling a little bit tired with the heat of the day and the thought of carrying Pickle's stroller down and up various stairs didn't appeal to us.  We went down a few floors and looked up through the enormous columns.  Our tickets gave us access to this higher floor.  Why not.  We were here.  It was thankfully the right decision and we found ourselves once again up in a part of the monument that few seemed to visit.  It was all a recreation of something older, but I did wonder whether this would have been a feeling and a type of view that would have been looked up by more ancient Romans many years ago.

For our last activity with Phil before he headed off to the airport, we decided to spend some time at Villa Borghese.  We weren't going to the villa itself, but instead to the lovely lush parks and gardens surrounding the villa.

We found ourselves a park bench, and pulled out a large box of peaches.  I took them over to one of the public drinking fountains and washed them off in the cool icy water.  We sat and chatted, resting and enjoying the mid afternoon.  Pickle walked around with a peach in his hand, biting into the sweet fruit as he looked eagerly at the bigger kids nearby playing football.  The gestured to him to join and he was soon squealing loudly as he joined their games.

Us adults sat by and watched.  We were content and happy in the shade, eating our own peaches.  It was an almost indescribable feeling being there.  To enjoy such a simple and relaxing respite that was so full of joy.  To be with the people I cared for.  Some I had known since childhood and others whom I met more recently. To be in this city, a place I truly loved.  

A modern ancient city

So the last stop on our visit in Puglia wasn't actually in Puglia.  Instead, it's actually situated in the neighbouring Basilicata region.  With its close proximity to Bari, it had become a generally accepted part of most tours through Puglia and so we decided to also link this into our own trip.  We had parked our car in the convenient and modern parking garage just on the edge of the old town.  Our accommodation had helpfully arranged for a porter to come help us with our bags.  We weren't staying too long, but it still didn't seem the best to leave any bags in the car of the next few days.  Looking at the maps, I had initially thought that I could just do it all myself over a couple of trips.  Our hotel had strongly recommended we use the porter service and so instead we waited at the parking garage for the driver to arrive.  The man who arrived seemed friendly and kind.  He quickly took our bags, then offered to take all our other smaller bags.  I noted that I had only paid for the two large bags, but he smiled as he waved me off and insisted that it was fine.  Once he set off, we started our own walk towards the hotel.  My previous thoughts on moving the luggage had clearly been naive thinking.  The sheer number of stairs and uneven cobblestoned steps we had to traverse to get to the hotel was an undertaking for us without the luggage.  Trying to navigate everything with our luggage may not have been impossible, but it would have likely left me exhausted and unable to do much for a while.

We had arranged to stay in the middle of the "Sassi" of Matera, the famous old town that had been built up over many millennia into the hills and rocks of the town. On our very first night, we were quickly impressed by the dramatic beauty of this town.  Around each corner, the views seemed out of scenes from cinema (which was the case given the huge number of films set in this town).  Compared to many of the other Italian towns we had visited, there was a lack of colour to our surrounding.  It sapped the joy out of the place, but replaced it with a brooding and antique feel.  The contrast was not in the colour, but was instead in the shades and the light.  

Every step we took through the winding, narrow and hilly streets felt like a journey through history and the past.  With everything looking so washed out and faded, it made our wanderings feel extra special.  Everything just felt so old and ancient around us.  It was like it looked so faded out because it was just so old and untouched.  Surely all of this had been here as it was for centuries, developing this look through the brutal passage of time?

It was all of course thoroughly modernised and cleaned up, but it "felt" real.  More so than many of the other places we had visited.  That didn't change the fact that this was in a way a bit of a ancient theme park.  It had the long history for certain, but everything had been built up and renovated to look a certain way.  We walked past more than enough places being renovated and reconstructed during our explorations to confirm this.

We kept exploring the town more.  The more we learnt, the more depressing it became.  This town had at one point relatively recently been considered to be the "shame of Italy" due to the poverty and conditions of its residents.  There were museums dotted around the Sassi which recreated how the local population lived historically.  It was a spartan lifestyle in harsh conditions.  What didn't seem to be as well advertised though was that after those local residents were relocated out of the town, much of the town was then subsequently bought up by outsiders who then took full advantage of the cheap prices and redeveloped it into the fancy and high end tourist destination it now was.  So even with the improvement in the town's fortunes, it still wasn't the original inhabitants who benefited.

Being out of Puglia, we also got to experience a whole different type of cuisine.  After the lovely fresh and light food of Puglia, full of seafood and the bright seasonal vegetables, what we had in Matera was a stark contrast.  It was heavy and rich food.  There were slow cooked stews, aged cheeses and dense breads. It was good.  But it was just in such a sharp contrast to what we had been eating.  With the warm days, it also didn't exactly match up with what we were feeling.  Still, I was happy to enjoy this new cuisine.  There was plenty of lamb options for me which seemed to be a local specialty.

I was glad to have visited Matera, but I wasn't so sure I would be back.  It was an undeniably beautiful place, and there were many times which I felt truly awestruck as I walked its street.  However, the days I had spent in the town felt enough.  There were only so many streets I could explore, only so many viewpoints I could clamber too before it began to feel slightly repetitive. 

 In our hotel, we met a lovely Argentinian couple who had been in Matera for a few days.  The man gently enquired what I thought of Matera.  I responded bluntly that I liked it, but that two days was enough for me.  He seemed incredibly relieved with my response and started to confess to me how bored he was feeling.  They had already been in Matera for three days and he had run out of things to do.  He didn't want to seem ungrateful, but he explained they were arranging to go to a nearby beach just for a change.  I understood exactly where he came from.  This town was an incredible place to experience, but it was still quite a small place and there were limits to how long it could hold the attention.

Ceramic stopover

Our trip to the southern part of Puglia had come to an end.  We had a drive to our next and last location.  The drive was a bit longer, a bit under three hours.  Normally, I would punch that out in one guy without any problems, but things were now different with the baby Pickle.  Instead. I arranged for us to make the journey in easy stages.  We would stop twice on our way to our final stop.  The first place we stopped was in Lecce for a last and short visit.  The drive wasn't too long.  I was familiar with the roads now, so we arrived and parked in less than 40 minutes.  Once there, we went for one last visit to the gelateria we had been visiting on each visit (so much so that the staff had started to give us free items) and let baby Pickle play in some of the wonderful parks on the outskirts of the old town.

We had left the masseria a bit later than I had wanted and so we were now in a bit of a strange time.  Too early for lunch, but later than where we should have been.  I took us back to the car and as I left the parking garage, I managed to scratch the rear bumper on the a small post.  Annoying, but thankfully minor.  I looked through my options of where to take us.  Should I do the last part of the journey in one go or should I still go through with my plan of making one further stop in between.  We still needed to eat, so I thought it best to do one more stop even if it meant we would be a bit later.  Looking at the map and where we needed to be, I set my phone for the town of Grottaglie.

The drive was relatively uneventful.  The roads were good, and we drove past the city of Taranto with its enormous port facilities.  We had read that from a tourist point of view, that Taranto didn't have as much to offer as other places in the region, but I couldn't help but wonder if I should have visited.  This famous and ancient of towns has such a storied history, and its name had popped up frequently in the books and histories I had read over the years.  Maybe for a future trip, but for now I had to keep driving.  We arrived in Grottaglie in the early afternoon.  It was extremely hot.  We parked the car and went to look for lunch.  The town was completely empty.  The heat of the day probably kept people away, but even with that explanation there was still a bit of a deserted feel.  Everything was well maintained and in good condition, it was just empty.  We found a restaurant that seemed to still be open.  We went in and they apologised to us profusely that they were already closing.  We were disappointed and a bit lost as to what to do.  We had come late enough in the day that it looked as if we had missed the lunch service for most restaurants.  As we stood to the side contemplating what to do, one of the elderly looking chefs seemed to realise our problem and pointed us down to the lanes next to the restaurant, directing us to another restaurant that he was sure would be able to take us.  We followed his directions and found the family restaurant that still had some guests.  They told us they were closing, but would take us in if we ordered quickly.  We happily obliged and were soon seated with icy drinks to cool us down.  It was a family restaurant and it seemed all the staff were in some way related.  Baby Pickle roamed up and down the restaurant.  The other guests cooed and waved at him as he explored all everything he could.  From inside the kitchen, the old matron of the family appeared as she heard the outside commotion and her face lit up seeing him walking around.

 

We enjoyed our time in the restaurant and probably stayed a bit too long.  We were the last guests for the day and the staff seemed to be waiting for us before leaving themselves.  We could see they were enjoying playing with baby Pickle, but I'm sure they still wanted to leave.  So after settling the bill, we headed out into the town to look around before we continued on our journey.

It was still very hot when we started to walk around the town, but the worst of the heat had subsided.  The small lanes and streets were still largely deserted.  Strangely, it didn't feel as empty though.  Even though there were no people, you could see and feel the signs of life everywhere, like everyone had just stepped away for the briefest of moments (which I guess was the case).  There were lovely murals on the walls, flowers growing everywhere and the houses were a mix between renovated old buildings and some very modern builds.

We had been told a bit about Grottaglie by the people at the hotel we had been staying at in Monopoli.  When asked about where the best places to visit in Puglia, the son had listed this as being high on his list of locations.  One thing in particular that it was famous for was its pottery and ceramics.  So far we hadn't seen too much.  We started to walk outside of the old town, through the large town walls.  I checked the map and there seemed to be a long winding road that would take us back to where we had parked our car.  As we past the walls, we could now see all of the ceramic stores one another.

Veronica disappeared into one of the stores and I kept on walking along the street with the baby Pickle.  There was a large shop off to the side that caught my eye.  I started walking in as Veronica suddenly appeared and followed me in.  I tried to converse with them in my limited Italian and they seemed to light up, trying to explain to us all the various ceramics that were in the store.  As usual, more than anything it was the baby Pickle they seemed to be most interested in as he laughed and squealed at them.  Almost everything we had seen in the region apparently came from Grottaglie.  We happy that to date, we had bought nothing.  Veronica looked at the various traditional "buds" that were a symbol of the region and grabbed a few for us and for friends.  As she was paying, she also noticed a few things for the kitchen and so immediately bought those as well.

We slowly made our way back to the car.  There had been no shade so it had been sitting fully exposed in the sun.  We had only been away for a few hours, but the dustiness of the area and of the roads made the car look like it had been sitting abandoned for years.  I opened the doors and felt the wave of heat push out.  It took a bit of time before the car was cool enough for us to put baby Pickle in, let alone for us to set off on our drive.  The drive to our last stop took far longer than expected.  The roads were good and very picturesque, but they changed halfway through from multi laned higways to single lane roads.  A long line of cars backed up as a single car decided to crawl slowly along the road.  At each opportunity to overtake, the cars behind it baffled me with their own complete reluctance to overtake.  They seemed to be completely content with driving 20km below the speed limit and following this car.  Eventually, I saw my own opportunity and embraced the crazy Italian driver inside.  I saw a very long stretch of road.  There was no traffic coming the other direction and there was a long distance of clearly uninterrupted visibility for me.  I pulled out and overtook the line of three cars that seemed determined to meander along this road.  I past them all and raced into the open road, finally free of the obstacles.  I looked into my rear view mirror.  It appeared that I had galvanised the others as car after car also followed my lead to get past.  We made a turn right and started to climb up higher.  I started now to get a little bit worried.  I was driving a hybrid and the distance indicator had previously been giving me and estimate that was more than enough for me to reach our destination.  This was all based on our highway driving.  As we continued to climb up through the winding roads, the estimate continued to fall.  Would I even make it?  I kept glancing at the estimated distance and comparing it to the GPS distance.  The numbers were converging more than I wanted.  We began to see more buildings and apartments.  My fears subsided and I could see our end destination coming into the screen.  It was definitely tighter than I had hoped and when I finally parked, the estimate was less than 20km left of driving.

 

None of that mattered anymore.  We had arrived at our final destination in "Puglia" (though not really).  The ancient town of Matera.

Life at the masseria

When we decided to go to Puglia for our holiday, I started to ask for the views and recommendations of friends and colleagues who had visited or knew the area.  One recommendation that came up frequently, particularly amongst the Italian natives was to include a masseria visit in our trip.  This idea intrigued me and I immediately started looking into the possibility.  On many of my previous trips to Italy, I had driven past "agriturismo" properties and had wanted to one day stay in one.  In Italy, the agriturismos are an important part of the rural economy, offering farm stays and an opportunity at living in the quieter parts of the country.  The masserias were a type of agriturismo found in Puglia.  From what I could gather, the masserias were usually more upmarket and often had an even stronger focus on the food.  

The days we had spent at the masseria had been as relaxing and fulfilling as I had envisaged.  When we weren't off on day trips or visits to the different places in the surrounding region, we were able to spend our time at the nearby beach or on the grounds of the masseria itself.  One of the selling points of this particular masseria was its close proximity to the nearby beach, with its own private path leading there.  It was only about 150m so it was an enjoyable walk for us with baby Pickle in tow.  Veronica carried Pickle as I carried all our bags and the umbrella we had bought at the supermarket in Monopoli.

The beach wasn't private, but given it was a bit further away from the larger centres it was calmer and far less busy.  There were still nearby places to buy food and drink, but we were able to set ourselves up without disturbance and with lots of space for baby Pickle to enjoy himself.  The water was comfortably cool and clear.  The sand was fine and it all felt close to idyllic.  I had taken baby Pickle swimming in the ocean before, but he seemed to enjoy these experiences more.  As each small wave would come, I would dip him in and out to his delight.

We repeated this pattern a few times.  With the beach so close, it was easy.  There didn't need to be a big migration and from a car.  There didn't need to big huge amounts packed and prepared.  Once we were done, we were able to just wander back to masseria to shower and clean up.

When we weren't at the beach, we were able to enjoy the grounds and facilities of the masseria itself.  A large part of the culture of the masserias is the connection to the land and to farming.  Next to the main and more elegantly maintained parts of the masseria, there was the active farm.  Wheat fields spread out behind us which gave us beautiful scenery as we walked along with the uniquely calming sounds of the rustling sheaves as the winds blew across them.

On the rest of the farm, there were rows and rows of vegetables.  Pickle ran up and down the rows, looking with curiosity at the machinery and farmer's tool.  He chased butterflies and seemed completely amazed at all the colours around him.

Inside the main and enclosed grounds of the masseria were orchards and fruit trees.  Everything was very well maintained and manicured.  The gardens were picturesque and even more quiet than outside.  With a nice mat, we spent afternoons under the trees.  We lay about in the cool breeze, eating fruits and biscuits as Pickle continued his exploration of everything.

The lemon trees were heavy with fruit, but we weren't so interested.  In the middle of the gardens, there were pear trees and a large mulberry tree.  These were also full and heavy with fruit and far more appetising to us.  I held baby Pickle up and taught him to choose and take the best of the fruit straight from the tree, but only what we would eat ourselves.  It was incredible to be able to introduce this all to him.  To teach him how to connect more with nature, to understand where our food comes from and for him to enjoy the beauty of it all.

Veronica and I would laze about as he wandered and stumbled around the garden, fruit in hand as he explored his surrounds all whilst chewing into the various fruits he had.  

When we weren't in the garden or in the ocean, we were next to the pool.  Everything in the masseria had been wonderful, but the opulence of this pool was beyond anything we expected.  The tiles were all constantly cool to the touch even during the heat of the day (they must have been using the type of tiles that Chris and I had learnt about when we were in Bali) and the water was salted and not chlorinated.  

What all the masserias promoted the most though was the food.  Each one always highlighted the local specialties they prepared and the quality of the ingredients and dishes they would have on offer.  Each morning, we saw this on display.  There was a huge variety of fresh fruits and local produce for us to try.  The cheeses and the pastries in particular were far more varied than at any place I had ever been.  Speaking with the staff, they explained to me that all their baked goods were actually prepared on premises, which amazed me even more given the volume they always had on offer.

At night, the masseria also offered a dinner service.  With all the places in the area we wanted to visit, we only partook in this once, but we were unsurprised by the quality.  Before we even started, they offered to make us a dish specifically for Pickle.  We happily agreed to this and there was a lovingly made little pasta dish quickly prepared for him which he slurpt away at.  For us, our fare was more refined and Veronica would later declare the monkfish stew to be her favourite dish of the entire trip.

I felt incredibly blessed and fortunate.  For everything.  For all we were able to experience.  For each moment we had been here.  In my mind's eye, I had pictured vividly what my ideal holiday here would look like.  I had wanted an Italian country escape.  Something that would give us as a family the time to be together, but also the opportunity for baby Pickle to explore everything around him.