“There is more life in walking slowly than in a transoceanic lines that overburden in your designing solitude” – Franco Cassano
There are places that delight your heart. Places that bring you back the definite flavour of your early childhood, are fragrant with homemade cake, with slow rhythm, in warm and inert summer afternoons. And no matter of origins or residences: it is not just because it is your birthplace but just a heart empathy that induces each of us to say, at least once in our life, “one day I am going to live in the Itria Valley”. As the ones who have already had the chance to live or to travel through this area of Apulia, already know very well: here we do not need to run after anything, here we mind what musicians call “The right tempo”, to hurry up when it is useful to, to go on slowly when we need to.
After all it is a bit as the philosophy we suggest you to mind when exploring our area: no cars but only slow means of transport, as bikes, an old “little carriage” or simply a steps trampling, for a slow tour able to make peace with yourselves and nature, the human being and ourseves.
First rule of this adventure: leave your car at home and so traffic jams, stress and honking car horns. Departure platform: the last track at Bari central Railway station where stands out the green placard “Ferrovie Sud Est”. It is just from there our journey starts. Direction Martina Franca, the last leg of this section: take a seat in one of the small carriages of the regional train in which time seems to be suspended and enjoy the charm of the clanging of the rails, that at a slow rhythm, will let you pass through breathtaking landscapes. Fifty Km. per hour and almost a two hours trip (even though, it must be admitted, delays are daily), of nature, fruit trees, expanses of olive groves, dry-stone walls, old farms and small “trulli”. Along this section you do not follow the coast, you pass through the inland with its little villages such as: Conversano, Castellana Grotte, Putignano, Noci, Alberobello, Locorotondo. Sleepy railway stations where a variegated humanity unwinds, made of old people and children, young women and commuting workers, ready to take a seat on leather tip up chairs and to chat to their trip neighbour. Martina Franca, charming, noble, winning, deserves a visit, with no haste, but we will talk about it another time. Meanwhile our journey keeps on. This time walking…