Polignano a Mare is still my favorite place so far...and since it's only ten minutes away, I will probably be there every free morning/afternoon that I have. I can catch the 9:53 train and be there for prime sunshine for a few hours and still have a productive day. That's exactly what I did on Saturday.
I stopped for coffee and a panzerotto on my way to the beach. A panzerotto is a regional morsel...unfortunately they can only be found in southern Italy and some place in New York City that has roots from the Apuglia region. I'm determined to learn how to make them before I leave because I'll have to get my fix somehow when I finally go home. It's similar to a calzone, but it's fried instead of baked and usually filled with fresh tomatoes and mozzarella. It's really not an appropriate breakfast food but there were some bite sized ones on display at the coffee shop so I couldn't say no.
I stopped for coffee and a panzerotto on my way to the beach. A panzerotto is a regional morsel...unfortunately they can only be found in southern Italy and some place in New York City that has roots from the Apuglia region. I'm determined to learn how to make them before I leave because I'll have to get my fix somehow when I finally go home. It's similar to a calzone, but it's fried instead of baked and usually filled with fresh tomatoes and mozzarella. It's really not an appropriate breakfast food but there were some bite sized ones on display at the coffee shop so I couldn't say no.
It was a weekend and a much prettier day than the last time I had visited, so the streets and the beach were more crowded. It still wasn't like New York City kind of crowded, but there were definitely more people this time. Someone had mentioned to me that there were sandy beaches right outside of town, so I figured I would skip the rocky beach-loving crowds and find the sand...since I'm "such an American" for loving the sandy beaches. I had no idea which direction the alleged beaches were or even if they were within walking distance, but I picked a direction and started walking. I knew I would find something worthwhile.
On my way out of town, I passed another one of those wine shops where they fill you up a liter of local wine for cheap. This one was much more high tech and had big metal kegs full of wine instead of the boxes and barrels. I asked the man behind the counter if the wine I was considering was dry or sweet. He answered and asked where I was from, probably because my accent hasn't made much improvement yet. I was able to answer, but that's about the extent of my Italian conversational skills...I know how to ask about the qualities of a wine and say that I'm from Texas. Those are the important things to communicate anyways. So I asked if he spoke any English, and he said "very little" and thought about it for a second. Then his face lit up and he asked me in Spanish if I knew any Spanish. It took me a second to realize that he was speaking Spanish because to my untrained ear Italian sometimes sounds like the different languages that it is derived from...Spanish, French and Portuguese. I laughed and answered in Spanish that I spoke more Spanish than Italian. So for the next ten minutes, I stood there and talked with this guy in a mix of broken Spanish, English and Italian. Spanglian, I guess. I don't even remember what we were even talking about, but I thought it was great that two non-native Spanish speakers were able to communicate by using a language that was foreign to both of us. I'm sure we were both making terrible grammar and pronunciation errors, but we got our points across. I paid for my wine and told him I would be back...and I definitely plan on making that shop a regular stop.
On my way out of town, I passed another one of those wine shops where they fill you up a liter of local wine for cheap. This one was much more high tech and had big metal kegs full of wine instead of the boxes and barrels. I asked the man behind the counter if the wine I was considering was dry or sweet. He answered and asked where I was from, probably because my accent hasn't made much improvement yet. I was able to answer, but that's about the extent of my Italian conversational skills...I know how to ask about the qualities of a wine and say that I'm from Texas. Those are the important things to communicate anyways. So I asked if he spoke any English, and he said "very little" and thought about it for a second. Then his face lit up and he asked me in Spanish if I knew any Spanish. It took me a second to realize that he was speaking Spanish because to my untrained ear Italian sometimes sounds like the different languages that it is derived from...Spanish, French and Portuguese. I laughed and answered in Spanish that I spoke more Spanish than Italian. So for the next ten minutes, I stood there and talked with this guy in a mix of broken Spanish, English and Italian. Spanglian, I guess. I don't even remember what we were even talking about, but I thought it was great that two non-native Spanish speakers were able to communicate by using a language that was foreign to both of us. I'm sure we were both making terrible grammar and pronunciation errors, but we got our points across. I paid for my wine and told him I would be back...and I definitely plan on making that shop a regular stop.
I walked south along the coast for about ten minutes past the downtown area. I found a path that took me right up to the cliffs around the water. There were people lounging in the sun on the rocks and a few teenagers were actually jumping off the cliffs and into the sea around one area. At the time, I remember thinking that they were crazy and there was no way I would use my "why the hell not" attitude to apply to cliff jumping. I mean, those are the same cliffs that Red Bull uses for their professional cliff diving competitions. I figured I would leave cliff jumping into the sea to the invincible teenagers and the professionals...until I had a little wine and changed my mind. I'll get to that later though.
I found a flat rock nestled into the side of the cliff and spread out my towel there. I spent the rest of the morning finishing the Italy section of Eat Pray Love for the second time, sipping the wine out of a dixie cup and earning my first sunburn of the summer. The only thing that eventually pulled me away a few hours later was the thought of a good meal.
I found a flat rock nestled into the side of the cliff and spread out my towel there. I spent the rest of the morning finishing the Italy section of Eat Pray Love for the second time, sipping the wine out of a dixie cup and earning my first sunburn of the summer. The only thing that eventually pulled me away a few hours later was the thought of a good meal.
When I finally left, I followed the coast back towards the city until I got to a restaurant called Grottone. It had a perfect view of the sea, a little cove, and the city itself. I asked for a table for one near the sea, and they sat me in some obscure corner. I'm pretty sure I got the best seat in the house. I keep finding myself in these little places that I could just sit in and soak up all day but still not have gotten enough, and this place was no different. I ordered wine and mozzarella. They also brought olives, olive oil and bread. As far as I'm concerned, the best part about traveling alone is not having to share the bread. That and not having to worry about forcing conversation if it doesn't come naturally. So I sat there with my wine, mozzarella, bread and olive oil with only the sound of the sea. I sat there for so long that I felt like I had to order something else, so I got some fresh muscles. They were the perfect addition to my little setup.
If you sit in your own silence long enough, you eventually start thinking about things that don't need to be thought about. Sometimes it's a conversation that will never be had you compose in your head, sometimes it's reliving a regret, and sometime it's coming up with a new plan of something you might regret when it's all said and done. Traveling by myself has helped me to distinguish which is which...it can be a very blurry line sometimes. So I sat there thinking about the Mark Twain quote my dad shared with me, the kids I had seen earlier jumping off the cliffs, and the text I had sent my sister saying that I wished she was there so I had someone to talk me into jumping off a cliff. I can always count on her for that sort of thing. As soon as I recognized my own train of thought, I knew I was going to jump a cliff by myself. And for the record...I had two dixie cups of wine on the morning cliffs and one glass of wine at the restaurant with food over about 4 hours...so I know this was not a completely wine-fueled decision.
I paid (everything is so cheap!) and made my way to the coast that I had just been staring at. Now here is the one problem about traveling alone...there is no one to take a picture of you or with you. And if you don't have pictures then it basically didn't happen, right? Don't worry, I've figured out how to get around this without an embarrassing selfie-stick. I can't believe I'm going to share my secret...but if you set your camera up where you want the picture to be taken from, start filming a video, walk into the frame and pose however you want...you can screen shot whatever frame you want later. Boom...perfect picture. You just need to have enough memory on your phone to take the video initially and then you can delete it after you take the screenshot. Thank you dad for upgrading me to the 64gb iPhone. You're the reason these great screenshot photos exist.
So I found a cliff that didn't look too high, and set up my camera. As soon as I started the video, I knew I was completely committed to the jump. I didn't want a video of me walking to the edge of a cliff, peering over and walking back to turn it off. Nope, I was in. So I stood there with my shoes in my hand (because I was going to have to climb back up the rocks), looking over the edge of the cliff and trying to work up the courage to just jump...but there was a real sea with a real current and stuff waiting down there that kinda freaked me out more than the vertical distance.
I was trying to give myself a pep talk until I realized that the longer I stood there the less likely it was going to be that I actually jumped. So I jumped. I just stopped thinking so hard about it and jumped. It was the most invigorating cold water I have ever felt. It ended up being like a 6 minute video, most of which was just the background from the scenery I had just jumped into while i climbed back up to my starting point. I still had my adrenaline going and was feeling very pleased with myself. I had just jumped off a cliff into the Adriatic Sea with no one egging me on and no one else truly witnessing it but my own self. I did it purely for myself. After I layed on the rocks to dry off for a little bit, I watched the video. I was so excited to see the whole experience I had just captured for myself. One problem...this was the best shot:
I paid (everything is so cheap!) and made my way to the coast that I had just been staring at. Now here is the one problem about traveling alone...there is no one to take a picture of you or with you. And if you don't have pictures then it basically didn't happen, right? Don't worry, I've figured out how to get around this without an embarrassing selfie-stick. I can't believe I'm going to share my secret...but if you set your camera up where you want the picture to be taken from, start filming a video, walk into the frame and pose however you want...you can screen shot whatever frame you want later. Boom...perfect picture. You just need to have enough memory on your phone to take the video initially and then you can delete it after you take the screenshot. Thank you dad for upgrading me to the 64gb iPhone. You're the reason these great screenshot photos exist.
So I found a cliff that didn't look too high, and set up my camera. As soon as I started the video, I knew I was completely committed to the jump. I didn't want a video of me walking to the edge of a cliff, peering over and walking back to turn it off. Nope, I was in. So I stood there with my shoes in my hand (because I was going to have to climb back up the rocks), looking over the edge of the cliff and trying to work up the courage to just jump...but there was a real sea with a real current and stuff waiting down there that kinda freaked me out more than the vertical distance.
I was trying to give myself a pep talk until I realized that the longer I stood there the less likely it was going to be that I actually jumped. So I jumped. I just stopped thinking so hard about it and jumped. It was the most invigorating cold water I have ever felt. It ended up being like a 6 minute video, most of which was just the background from the scenery I had just jumped into while i climbed back up to my starting point. I still had my adrenaline going and was feeling very pleased with myself. I had just jumped off a cliff into the Adriatic Sea with no one egging me on and no one else truly witnessing it but my own self. I did it purely for myself. After I layed on the rocks to dry off for a little bit, I watched the video. I was so excited to see the whole experience I had just captured for myself. One problem...this was the best shot:
What? But I had jumped! I jumped so high! Why does it look like I just tripped into a belly flop? No, that picture did not accurately capture what was going on. Well...it was fun the first time...so I did it again. And then I had to one more time, half because the pictures still weren't the best angles and half because it was just really fun. I jumped off that cliff three times and I probably would have kept doing it all afternoon if I didn't have a train to catch. I guess I never found the sandy beaches, but I can look for them another day. I couldn't wipe the stupid smile off my face for the whole train ride home...I'm not sure if it was because of the adrenaline rush or from watching the ridiculous videos of myself trying to set up the camera and jump off a cliff.