Puglia

At Polignano a Mare a river that ran dry long ago has left a cleft in the cliffs, with a Roman bridge across the top and, at the bottom, a cove of clear water called Lama Monachile. It is a beautiful beach, wedged into the rock. It is also overly busy, and we suspect it of being overrated; anyone who wants to judge for themselves should get there early, before the crowds build. We think Puglia gives most to anyone who goes out among the rural vineyards and into the less developed towns. In Salento the red grapes include Negroamaro and Primitivo, and some bottles settle the argument by holding both.

We went in October, at the tail of the good months. September is as warm as June with the crowds gone; by late October the weather turns and some beach bars shut for the season. August is the one to miss: the mid-30s inland, the coast at its busiest and dearest, and most of Italy there too, on its own holiday.

We split the trip between two bases. One was Ostuni, its whitewashed old town stacked up the hill to the cathedral, above olive groves and carob fields, with the trulli country around Alberobello and Cisternino 20 to 30 minutes' drive inland. The other was a rural boutique hotel on the Ionian coast, where the sea runs shallow and turquoise over sand, just outside Porto Cesareo. Porto Cesareo itself we would not recommend, which makes "outside" the important word.

Eat everything, and see the towns between meals. Beyond Ostuni the two are Lecce and Gallipoli. Gallipoli's old town sits on a limestone island in the Ionian, joined to the new town by a low stone bridge, with the castle guarding the approach. Go in the morning, when the fishing fleet, still a working one, has the catch in, and walk the walls with water on every side. Punta della Suina, a beach backed by pines, is close by for the swim afterwards.

Lecce is built of pietra leccese, a golden limestone so easy to carve that the city gave its name to a baroque of its own. Walk it around Piazza Sant'Oronzo and the Roman amphitheatre, with a coffee and a pasticciotto at Caffè Alvino on the square, then stay on to eat. We had a fantastic Puglian meal there, at a restaurant whose name we have long since lost.