I recently spent five glorious days revisiting Puglia and one of the places I enjoyed most was Alberobello.  That is the beauty of travelling in Italy: once is never enough!

This was my third visit to the UNESCO world heritage site, and I could focus less on the quaint and irresistible charm of the round tiled roofs set on the square-based structures, and more on their history.

The town is ensconsed in thick groves of olive and almond trees that thrive on the dry, bouldered soil of Puglia.  In fact the soil is so rocky that new stones come to light every time the soil is tilled, thus creating an endless supply of light-weight stones that can be used as rooftiles.

The history of these unusual dwellings dates back to the second half of the 15th century when the territory was ruled by the Aquaviva family, who had introduced some forty families into the region to clear the terrain.  Over time, the land was populated by these farmers who learned to cultivate the rough land, rendering it extremely fruitful.

However, during the same period, the Kingdom of Naples had enacted legislation requiring all new towns to pay a heavy tax.  In response, the feudal lords ordered their tenants to build ‘dry’ dwellings without the use of mortar, so that they could easily be pulled down in the case of royal inspection, cunningly avoiding taxation!

In 1797 a group of brave citizens petitioned the Bourbon King Ferdinando IV who, by royal decree, in May of the same year set the village free.

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(based on this original article)

Wikipedia defines transhumance as the “seasonal movement of people with their livestock, typically to higher pastures in summer and to lower valleys in winter”. Until fairly recently, cattle-driving along the Apennine mountain paths or tratturi was a tradition that had been going on long before Romulus or Remus met up with mamma wolf.

There were four main highways: the Aquila-Foggia, the Castel di Sangto – Lucera, the Centurelle – Montesecco and the Pescaseroli - Candela, or Regio Tratturo.  From the hilltowns of the Sannio, the mountain path of preference was the Regio Tratturo, or royal track, which wound its way down to the huge plateau known as the Tavoliere della Puglia.

Since time immemorial and until as late as the 1970’s, it was uncommon to house animals in barns during the winter, because it meant large investments in buildings and fodder.  Instead, in late autumn, between the third week of October and S. Martino (November 11th) millions of cows, sheep and horses, together with their pastori, or shepherds, swept south along the ancient mountain paths.  The trek began at the full moon and took 12 days.  Horses and cows had better eyesight and could continue through the night, but the sheep, though better protected from the cold, did not have good night sight and were held in temporary pens that were set up each evening.

The cattle path was wide 60 neapolitan paces (sessanta passi napolitani) and there were rigid laws governing passage.  Overtaking was forbidden; one herd could not pass another, possibly to avoid the mingling of herds, but more probably to avoid a rush for the best land, which would have further tired the animals, many of which were already pregnant.

Cattle-driving was a tough life so is no longer in vogue and most of the tratturi themselves are slowly disappearing under man-made mountains of concrete.

“E vanno per tratturo antico al piano;
quasi per un erbal fiume silente,
sulle vestige degli antichi padri.”
D’Annunzio, I pastori

When asked, “Which archaeological site should I visit, Pompeii or Herculaneum?” I will inevitably answer, “Go to Oplontis!”

The patrician villa excavated under the modern town of Torre Annunziata, belonged to the Emperor Nero, famous for his appreciation of music and the arts, but more so for his cruelty. The villa was home to his beautiful and devious wife Poppea until she died after her husband kicked her in the stomach when she was heavily pregnant. (She should have been more careful; Nero had ordered the murder of his mother Agrippina as well…)

While it is hard to imagine much domestic bliss within these walls, the villa itself is extraordinary to behold. It contains some of the finest and best preserved wall paintings to have survived from early Imperial times. Visiting Oplontis is like taking a voyeuristic tour into the lives of the imperially rich and famous.  It is amazing how the aura of power and wealth is still palpable in the spacious hallways, frescoed walls and shaded garden with its vast swimming pool. It makes you want to walk on tiptoe or talk in a whisper; as if at any moment you might find yourself in the presence of the emperor, lounging in the calidarium or strolling along its cloistered porticos.

The complex was swallowed in ash during the eruption of Vesuvius in 79 A.D.  Fortunately, the roof of the building survived, preserving the interior for posterity.  Even the doors are visible, poignantly cast in the solidified ashes.

While on a heritage tour with an Italo-American family who had come to meet their Italian relatives, we spent some time with their family near the tiny hilltop village of S. Giorgio la Molara in the province of Benevento.

This is a vast farming region of rolling hills and an immense checker-board effect is created by the colors of the crops: predominant are the powder blue of the sky, the rich browns of the tilled fields and the grey-greens of olive, tobacco and corn, with golden necklaces of tabacco neatly hanging to dry on wooden racks.

At first glance it’s an idyllic scene, with sheep grazing in the meadows, far from the drama of Naples or the exhaltation of the Amalfi Coast.  But it’s a stark, spartan place, where in the early part of the last century lives were torn apart by back-breaking labor, famine and emigration and where even today familes live isolated lives highlighted only by births, baptisms, weddings and funerals.

As we travelled through the countryside, huge turbines harvested the Autumn winds and I reflected that nothing here goes to waste.  And then I was struck by how this stark landscape, viewed from the air, might seem like some titanic game of chess, with the huge windmills posing as pawns on an awesome and endless chessboard.