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Plus-Minus Puglia

Posted on 09/20/2026 by Esterina Anderson

By Daren Anderson

From a viewpoint high on a hilltop wall in Ostuni we looked upon the most prominent feature of the region. From there, it seemed that the entire Puglian landscape had been transformed by olive groves. For thousands of years humans have cultivated olives in the region, producing what many feel is the best olive oil in the world. The olive trees extended to the horizon in all directions. From a distance, we could not see the tragedy that was unfolding within these ancient groves, and we could not yet perceive the many other contrasts that would shape our experience and form our impressions of Puglia.

In her last post, Esterina wrote:

The opposite of romanticizing a place isn’t criticizing it. Our Italy story doesn’t become less beautiful when I include what has disappointed me. It becomes more honest.

We had high expectations for Puglia. So many people had said how much they loved it. We drove south into the region after spending three days high in the mountains of Abruzzo. The landscape, as we crossed the border, was dramatically different. The first thing we noticed was the enormous number of wind turbines. I have never seen so many of them anywhere other than the Netherlands. As we continued south, they were visible for as far as the eye could see. They were huge, arranged in neat rows, and were turning slowly and steadily, doing their part to bring sustainable energy to Italy. I’ve read that Italy lags behind other European countries in moving away from fossil fuels. Based on what we saw, it appears that there is at least some progress being made.

A landscape view of a wind farm with multiple wind turbines against a clear blue sky, surrounded by a dry, open field.

The other striking thing about Puglia is just how flat it is, at least compared to all the other regions we’ve visited. There are hills for sure, but the overall landscape is dry and flat, unlike the mountainous regions that extend from Calabria all the way up to the Alps. As we moved down the coast we were tantalized by glimpses of the Adriatic, blue and shimmering in the distance.

Our first stop was an agriturismo in Valle d’Itria where we had booked lodging on a working olive farm. Here for the first time we saw what was not apparent from afar; the spectacle of dead and dying olive trees. We learned first-hand from the owner about a devastating blight that was overrunning the ancient groves of Puglia. We were witnessing up close one of the world’s great agricultural catastrophes. For centuries, olive groves have shaped the Puglian landscape. Trees, some as old as 1,000 years, were being destroyed by a bacterial disease that is believed to have arrived in the region sometime between 2008 and 2010 on a tree imported from Central America. Italian olive trees are highly vulnerable to the infection and, as a result, from the tip of Italy’s heel to about halfway up Puglia, olive groves like the ones surrounding our agriturismo are filled with the skeletons of dead and dying ancient trees.

Still, there was also a note of hope. Nearby, we saw newly planted groves of tiny, thriving olive trees replacing the ancient ones. By grafting or planting resistant strains, some farmers are beginning to rebuild.

A landscape featuring a mix of bare trees and green foliage, with plowed soil visible in the foreground under a clear blue sky.

A rural landscape featuring plowed brown soil and lush green olive trees under a clear blue sky.

The agriturismo was lovely, very authentic and well kept, but in one of the dustiest places we’d ever been. Esterina kept saying it reminded her of the dustbowl. The morning before we left Esterina cleaned everything we owned from the inside of our cars to our yoga mats we used outside.

A black dog on a leash looking at a small, white doghouse beside a stone wall.

Cozy bedroom featuring an arched ceiling, a large bed with a light-colored cover, two bedside lamps, and decorative framed art on the walls, along with a suitcase partially unpacked and a wooden nightstand.

Over the next three days we visited Ostuni, Polignano a Mare, and Alberobello. Ostuni is indeed a white city. It looks more like a town in Greece. While somewhat overrun with tourists, we did enjoy wandering the streets, shopping for arts and crafts, and enjoying some Puglian cuisine. The heat was a big factor that affected our visit in a negative way. It was so hot that we abandoned our outside table on a small, quaint side street for an inside table with A/C, and spent the day moving from shadow to shadow and making frequent stops at cafes for cold drinks.

Main facade of a historic building with a clock tower and arched entrances, set against a clear blue sky.

Narrow cobblestone alleyway lined with whitewashed buildings and potted plants, featuring a small café or restaurant sign in the background.

On one of those stops we tried a Puglian pastry called Tette delle Monache which translates to “nuns breasts”. Yes, it’s true. My friend David and I ordered one each. We put them together to take a photo. One was a little less perky than the other…, you get the picture –

Two round pastries dusted with powdered sugar, resting in brown paper cups on a table, with a spoon and a napkin nearby.

The next day we sought out an instragram-favorite spot: Polignano a Mare perched on a cliff overlooking the Adriatic. It features narrow, winding pedestrian streets with flowers, lights, and shops. As we wandered through the old town, many streets ended at cliff-side panoramas where we could watch the boats, enjoy the cool breezes, and see teenagers leaping off the cliffs into the water below. Polignano is most famous for its Lama Monachile, a wedge-shaped cove and beach with cliffs on all sides. Photos of the cove that we’d seen online make it look like one of the most beautiful places on earth. As we approached, our view of the cliffs was striking, the water was azure blue, and the panoramic view from the bridge above was beautiful. But as we got closer, we found that the beach was very rocky and jam-packed with people, so many that it was hard to find a path to walk down to the water at all. None-the-less we squeezed our way down to the water and put our feet into the Adriatic.

View of a coastal cove with people sunbathing and swimming, surrounded by rocky cliffs and white buildings in the background.

A couple posing for a selfie with scenic white buildings and cliffs in the background under a clear blue sky.

Along the view was marred by the site trash strewn on the sidewalks and open spaces. This was a classic case of expectations, driven by readily accessible internet photos, exceeding the reality, at least as we found it on a mid-September day.

Lunch was by the sea at a very good Michelin recommended restaurant we found on the Fork – which is the equivalent of Open Table in Europe. The restaurant and our seat was also by a statue of a man singing with his arms spread wide. As we ate, we kept hearing people standing by the statue, taking photos and videos and singing Volare, oh oh, Cantare, wo oh-wo-oh. After lunch when we took a closer look, we learned it was the statue of Domenico Modugno who wrote and sang the popular pop song we’d been hearing: Volare.

A bronze statue of a man with outstretched arms, standing on a large rock, overlooking the sea and a coastal town in the background.

A woman in a green floral dress walks down stone steps towards a rocky shore overlooking the ocean, with people gathered along the beach and boats in the water.

Some other great photos from Polignano a Mare-

A scenic coastal view of a crowded beach with people sunbathing and swimming in a turquoise cove surrounded by rocky cliffs and buildings in the background.

A quaint alleyway featuring a pink building adorned with greenery, a person sketching on a chair, and colorful artwork displayed on easels.

Sadly, Polignano was not the only place where we’d seen lots of trash. In fact, it seemed as if there was trash everywhere we went in Puglia. On the side of the road, littering the sidewalks, scattered through parks and fields, we saw trash, not just plastic bottles and cigarette butts, but in many places whole bags of trash just tossed out a window or thrown on the side of the road. I couldn’t get over it. I simply couldn’t understand how this could be. We’ve written before about the north-south divide in Italy. This is one of the most prominent differences that I’ve noticed. Trash. As we drove back north, the trash gradually lessened. I don’t know the reasons for this difference, but it left me so sad to see such a beautiful landscape marred in such a preventable way.

A small, overgrown area with a fence and trash, located beside a parking lot. A person stands near a shelter while a truck is parked in the background.

A rocky coastline view with a fence in the foreground, littered with plastic waste and dry grass, under a cloudy sky.

Alberobello was our favorite of the three places we visited in this region. Despite an intense crush of tourists, the town was truly unique and fun to visit. Trulli are round structures with conical stone roofs traditionally used as houses. They look ancient, but all throughout the city, they had been meticulously maintained. Today, most of the trulli we saw in Alberobello were tourist shops or vacation rentals. But this did not detract from the beauty of these unique, whitewashed structures nor did it lessen the exotic impression of an Italian city filled with these unusual structures.

A vintage bicycle adorned with a sun hat and decorative items, situated next to a charming window display filled with crafts and flowers against a white wall.

A man wearing sunglasses and a cap stands next to a black dog on a rooftop with traditional trulli houses in the background under a clear blue sky.

The impressions of Alberobello, and in fact of our entire time in Puglia, were also negatively impacted by the intense heat which seemed to be magnified by the whiteness of all the buildings. Blame this on our choice of dates to visit. We’d hoped that early-mid September would feature somewhat cooler temperatures. We were wrong. Temperatures were in the upper 90s (35+ Celsius) every day. Frequent stops for cold drinks in cafes, seeking out shade, and avoiding 1-4pm were strategies that helped somewhat. Koji, our black, furry Lab, felt it and suffered from it even more!

After four nights in central Puglia, we headed further south for a seaside stay in Gallipoli. Gallipoli features a compact old town built on a high island, connected to the mainland by a causeway. Cliffside views of the Ionian Sea were spectacular. We spent two evenings wandering and exploring the ancient streets and appreciating the views. Gallipoli, like many southern towns we’d seen on this trip, was festooned with large white frames covered with lights. The frames were in various shapes and designs that were, we later learned, put up across the region for each town’s celebrations of the festival of the local patron saint, which typically occur between August and October. At night, the effect was spectacular and added a festive feel to the town.

A scenic view of a small Italian town square in the early morning, featuring colorful buildings, a lamppost, and a bicycle parked near stone steps.

View of a coastal scene featuring a yellow building on the left and a lighthouse on a rocky pier across the water, with a clear sky in the background.

Unfortunately, we were not able to escape the heat by being at the seaside. In Gallipoli we learned about the Scirocco, the name for a specific wind that blows from the south. It originates in the Sahara and picks up moisture over the Mediterranean, landing on Puglia like a hammer blow with oppressive heat and humidity. Walking outside felt a bit like being in a tropical rain forest. It didn’t even cool down much at night, although the lack of blazing sunshine helped a bit.

A black dog standing by the shore, gazing out at the ocean waves with a coastal city in the background during sunset.

Scenic view of a coastal town with white and yellow buildings, surrounded by rocky shores and plants in the foreground under a soft sky.

Gallipoli is known for its beaches. We were able to escape the heat a bit by spending a day at a local beach, Spiaggia San Giovanni, and got to experience for the first time the Italian tradition of renting a chaise and umbrella on a beach and lounging the day away, taking frequent dips in the water to cool off. After four days in Gallipoli we said good bye to Puglia and to the south of Italy. We have now seen 17 of the 20 regions of Italy.

During our time in Puglia we formed a rich and nuanced impression of this fascinating region: olive oil, good seafood, late summer festivals, cliffs, white-washed buildings, and good swimming combined with crushing heat, trash, and the blighted olive trees. But we found signs of hope and resiliency as well. There are wind turbines making clean energy spread across the landscape, and tiny new olive trees planted in rows. As we headed back north we had a lot to discuss and reflect on, and we are thankful for the chance to visit and see things with clear eyes and a balanced perspective.

The Downtime

Posted on 08/02/2026 by Esterina Anderson

By Esterina Anderson

When Daren and I first got here to Italy five months ago, and Daren got the blogging bug (I’ve been blogging for over 10 years), we reframed my WordPress site around our Italy experience and created three areas on that page: My Experience/Posts, Daren’s Experience/Posts, and Our Travelogue.

If you haven’t seen it because you get the blog in your email, it’s EsterinaAnderson.com.

At first we did post separate things, but for a long time now we’ve pretty much only used the joint Travelogue section.

Why am I saying all this? Because this post is from me (Esterina) and belongs completely under the Esterina’s Posts button. This isn’t one of the posts we both edited together, so I don’t want to rope him into this.

We came to Italy to take a break from life and see how other people live.

When we first started tossing around the idea we are now living, the main goal was to step away after retirement, work on my citizenship, and see what happened. And that break is happening.

Our mornings are slow to start. Yoga, then coffee and the New York Times games together. Then often some exercise and computer work. We talk—a lot. Most of the day. We talk during meals, during errands, and on our many long car rides as we travel. This was the goal. To connect, ponder, and explore.

The conversation has shifted and changed since we got here. Initially we thought we might want to do NGO work, maybe in Africa or the EU. Citizenship certainly would open more doors for us to do those things. We also initially considered really ramping up and expanding our small consulting company. Those talks have now evolved into different conversations.

We talk about deep and spiritual things. We talk about how we want to spend the rest of our lives, who we want to be, and how much, if any, work we want to do for profit. We are doing a lot of reading for fun, but also a lot of reading about Life Part II and spirituality. The books we both read, whether novels or not, we talk about often for hours—how the characters behave, who or what they remind us of, and things the other person might not have considered. We talk about experiences we’ve had, both together and separately, and what we’d do differently now. We talk about the similarities and differences between the U.S. and Italy, what we like about each, and what we don’t like about each. We fuss over Koji. We talk about how we want to show up for the people we love.

These conversations have become really important and might just be a keystone of how, in years to come (assuming I’m lucky enough to have years to live), I look back on this time here.

I know from our blogs it probably looks like all fun, games, traveling, and bliss. But there is another side to what we’re doing. It’s not as glamorous, it’s hard to explain, and it has nothing to do with frescoes, churches, or sightseeing. It’s what happens in between, while we are shopping and going to the comune and to the veterinarian.

While I love traveling, the glitz and writing about it have fallen to the back burner for me. We’re mostly going to tourist cities, and for the most part they are very similar. Walled cities with souvenir shops, gelato, and churches. These places are indisputably beautiful, but they’re honestly starting to feel like a lot of the same. Luckily, our next few planned trips are a little more off the beaten path, and the places that aren’t will be with friends who are coming to visit.

In case I haven’t said it before (if you’ve talked to me, you’ve heard it!), I am really tired of Italian food, and it’s almost all we can get while traveling. Daren keeps writing that we eat different things whenever we go to cities, but we don’t go to cities very often. We used to eat Indian food at least once a week, and I think we’ve had it four times since we’ve been here. We can cook different things at home, but even that’s limited. The grocery stores are very large, but not as diverse as I expected.

I’m also really struggling with the cadence of life. The riposo is a bit of whiplash for me. From a non-Italian or non-Spanish perspective, it initially sounds cozy, romantic, relaxing, and family-oriented. Riposo (like a Spanish siesta) is the afternoon break when many businesses close for a few hours. It wasn’t created to inconvenience anyone. It grew out of a culture that values a long midday meal with family, stepping away during the hottest part of the day, and then returning to work later into the evening. It’s a rhythm that made a lot of sense long before air conditioning, supermarkets, and 24-hour convenience became normal in the U.S. and other European countries. But I’m finding it a little depressing. The streets are empty. Stores look like they’ve been closed since the Dark Ages, with metal gates over the doors. The piazzas empty out. It feels like a deserted ghost town.

The riposo and lack of air conditioning go hand in hand. The buildings are made of heavy stone with small windows, so many places are naturally dark. The shutters stay closed to keep the heat out, which means even less natural light. I’m used to bright, open, airy spaces with lots of sunshine, so this doesn’t fit with my natural circadian rhythm, and I find it difficult. I know what I need to do, and I do it. But I haven’t gotten used to it, and I’m struggling a bit.

I’ve been feeling a little off. We were up until 2:00 in the morning Friday night at the opera, and I slept terribly that night. Then I slept poorly again last night because I was overtired. After a mid-afternoon nap, I had a nice break to reflect on how I’d like to say this (which I am doing now).

When I woke up, I just lay there and thought about nothing… in the heat, with the sound of a fan blowing. It reminded me of when I was a kid in Brooklyn and later on Long Island, before we had air conditioning, or when we would only turn it on for a little while during the day. There was nothing to do and nowhere to go. The days felt so long. It felt free. Someone else took care of dinner and the bills. The day would be ahead of me. I’d wake up, lie in bed, and just think about nothing in particular while I listened to the fan blowing.

Today was like that. I need this in my life. Everyone should be fortunate enough to take a (what Daren is calling) sabbatical in their mid-life at some point.

I wanted time to reflect, to think, to decide what to keep and what to let go of—in what I think, what I own, what I do, and what I want to do. While riposo isn’t my cup of tea, it is helping me not “go, go, go” all day and instead take an afternoon break.

Retirement adjustment is a real thing. I knew it wouldn’t be some kind of amazing transition. I wasn’t sure what to expect and this is all part of it.

I’m not sure exactly what I’m trying to say, except that there is much more going on here than what shows up in our Travelogue. While this kind of sounds like a Seinfeld show (in that it’s about nothing), there is so much more than the eye can see in the nothing. There’s been a lot of soul-searching, a lot of downtime, and a lot of adjusting to a different way of life. Some parts of it I think I’ll carry home with me. Other parts I’ll happily leave behind. I don’t think the grass is greener anywhere else, but I do think it’s worth seeing that there are other ways to do things, even in two first world kind of similar countries. I feel blessed to have this experience even though most days do not look like the blogs you read! And I have to say I’m gladder than you would think that the actual experience is not exactly as it may seem in our posts. The nothingness is really where the treasure is for me. And that is something I will always carry with me no matter where I am standing in the world.

Namaste,

Esterina

The Italy Situation: A Dog’s Perspective, Part Two

Posted on 07/02/2026 by Esterina Anderson

Posted by Koji Anderson

Hi again. It’s me, Koji.

It’s been a while since I last wrote. I don’t write as much as mommy or daddy, but I do feel it’s important to keep everyone informed about this Italy situation from my canine point of view.

First, I want to say this: I love that mommy, daddy, and I are almost always together. We spend nearly every day together and I go everywhere with them. Back in America, they used to disappear for mysterious stretches of time. I never fully understood where they went or why they insisted on leaving me behind. Here in Italy, we are together constantly, and really, I like this arrangement much better.

I can’t talk to them, of course, but they seem to know exactly when I’m too tired for an adventure. It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes I’m happy to stay behind at home or in the cool air-conditioning of a hotel while they go do human things.

Still, most of the time, I’m ready! The exciting part is that I never know where we’re going.

I know mommy and daddy tell me with their voices, but I have absolutely no idea what they’re saying. I just wag my tail and occasionally jump straight into the air with all four paws off the ground to show enthusiasm. Sometimes I nudge my leash with my nose to let them know I’m fully committed to whatever madness lies ahead.

But what we are doing is always a surprise and usually something new and exciting.

When they say “bye bye in the car”, the car ride might be five minutes or five hours. We might go for a short walk or a giant hike. We could be climbing mountains, walking through cities, going into stores, visiting parks, or ending up at a restaurant. Every day feels like a mystery and an adventure. I’ve also mastered several new skills that took courage!

Recently we went to the mountains. Really big mountains! Daddy says I want to over 11,000 feet, which is the highest my dog body has ever been. To get there, I had a truly wild experience involved a giant clear box that carried us up a mountain bigger than I could have imagined. At first I was nervous. But there were other humans and other dogs, and nobody seemed concerned, so I decided to remain calm and brave. When we reached the top, the air was cooler and smelled incredible. I loved it.

We’ve done some epic hikes, particularly when we were in the mountains. As long as it’s cool outside, I absolutely love being off leash and investigating whatever interests me. But on hot days mommy and daddy become very focused on hydration. They’re constantly trying to get me to drink water. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. When I don’t they pour the water from the bowl on my head. This was very confusing at first. While we were in Aosta, a man was enthusiastically demonstrating this technique using hand motions. Mommy somehow understood him, and ever since then… water on the head. I think I like it, but I feel the need to pretend I don’t.

What does surprise me is the heat. Except for on top of that mountain where it was cool, the rest of Italy has been ridiculously hot lately, so I’ve started guiding mommy and daddy toward shaded areas whenever possible. It’s tough being black and furry at 30+ degrees Celsius. When it is I try to lead Mommy and Daddy into air-conditioned stores or any establishment that sells food. Especially food. There was a wonderful store in Norcia a few weeks ago that sold salami (or salumi in Italian). The man in the store kept giving me samples, hoping Daddy would buy some. He did.

But the best way to cool of is to jump into the water. I love any kind of water—lakes, rivers, streams, oceans. When I get near water, my leash usually comes off and I run straight in. I like to wade in until my body is submerged. Nothing cools me off better than submerging in the water of an Alpine stream or a lake! And I always try to sneak a drink. Sometimes mommy and daddy allow it and sometimes they don’t. Apparently salty water is not acceptable and fresh water is encouraged. This seems confusing. How exactly am I supposed to know whether water is salty or not unless I taste it first?

I’ve also gotten very used to city life. The bricks, cobblestones, and all the different textures beneath my paws no longer surprise me. I even do my business on cobblestones when there is no grass or tree nearby. This is sometimes necessary when you are in a city that is thousands of years old.

There are many other strange things in cities. Take the magic box. Mommy calls it an elevator. Daddy says I probably think it’s like a transporter from Star Trek. All I know is this: we walk into a tiny room in one place, the doors close, strange things happen, and then the doors open somewhere completely different. It makes no sense. At first I was concerned. Now I’m mostly impressed. I’ve learned how to steady my legs when it moves, though I still sniff the doors every time because I’m determined to understand the technology.

I am also still not a huge fan of the moving stairs that we encounter in some cities. Getting onto them requires courage. Remaining on them requires trust. But once I’m on, it’s quite exciting! I just stand there while the stairs do all the work which is great because these days, at 12 years old, stairs are a lot of work.

Many stores in cities put water bowls outside for thirsty dogs. I have deep respect for these businesses. My favorite stops, of course, are restaurants. Mommy and daddy sit down for very long periods of time while I settle beneath the table. Usually I position myself in the most inconvenient place possible—preferably where a waiter, chair, or human foot will definitely need to pass. I stretch out to maximum length. I block traffic. I become an obstacle. This is both comfortable and entertaining. I’m better than I used to be, but I still can’t always control myself when another dog walks by. I’m working on it. Still, restaurants are wonderful. I often hear waiters say words like “aqua per cane?” and suddenly a beautiful bowl of cold water appears just for me. It feels luxurious. Michelin dog stars for them.

I also went on a train for the first time. It moved incredibly fast and was very bumpy and bouncy. I was unable to fully relax and spent most of the ride alert and slightly confused. But that experience prepared me well for something else that was new: the Metro. Yesterday in Torino I rode one for the first time, and I’d like everyone to know I handled it beautifully. The subway was smooth, quiet, and efficient. I walked on like I’d been doing it my entire life. I am becoming extremely adaptable.

Mommy has started calling me a professional travel dog. I must admit, I’ve become very good at hotels. I trot confidently down hallways like I own the place. I know the routine now. And I can always tell when it’s another dog’s first hotel stay. They’re nervous, unsure and a bit overstimulated. I want to tell them it’s okay, and fun and that they will see soon for themselves. But usually I’m guided along, so instead I just mosey along like a seasoned professional.

Even with all this experience, there are still things that freak me out. One day we were walking in a beautiful park and entered a castle. Everything was lovely until I stopped dead in my tracks. We were walking along and suddenly there was no floor ahead. At least, that’s what it looked like. Mommy and daddy walked right onto it like complete lunatics, but I knew better. I planted myself firmly and refused to move. Again, I was forced into personal growth. Eventually I realized there was a floor—it was just clear glass. Underneath me were ancient ruins. ANCIENT RUINS. I don’t know what that means exactly, but mommy and daddy were pretty impressed. Once I understood I wasn’t going to fall into history, I cautiously walked across. Very cautiously. Tiny steps at first, maximum suspicion. It was ok! And kind of cool except that I couldn’t smell the ruins.

And last but not least… one of my favorite things in all of Italy is gelato. When we go out I always get some. Sometimes there is dog friendly gelato and sometimes I eat the human kind. I can’t tell the difference, I just know it’s cool and delicious and I sit there and eat it with determination until it’s gone.

This whole adventure has been full of surprises. I’ve become an expert in elevators, escalators, trains, subways, hotels, glass floors, mountain hikes, cable cars, hydration strategies, gelato and restaurant etiquette. I think I am braver than I used to be, more adaptable, and more worldly.

This Italy country continues to impress me. It seems like people really like dogs here. I am allowed almost everywhere, even in stores and restaurants. And everyone pets me and says things like “bravo cane” or “que bello”. I think that means I am good and I am handsome. So that’s my update on life in Italy. I’m having a really good time.

Until next time,
Koji