"We get by with a little help from our friends"

We awoke yesterday morning, primed to get on the road following what seemed like weeks of traveling and eating (well) without any exercise to compensate.  A slow start to the morning, having had to return the monsterous van to the Bari airport, we finally departed on our journey at 10:45am.  With the hot sun beating down and a vague idea of the direction we were headed in, we set off towards the Adriatic in search of the coastal path to take us up to Andria where we had arranged to stay the night.   We had only pedalled 100 yards along the road when two cars honked, waved, and cheered for us to keep pedalling onwards. I should preface this part by explaining the look of our two bikes.  My father had his welder install two flag post holders on the back of each of our paniers, from which there is a 5ft pole with some might say obnoxiously large Canadian flags flying from the top.  I only have one, but my dad has 3, just in case someone misses the first one.  He says it is so cars can see us, which clearly they can, but it has proven a conversation point throughout previous trips and, as we were about to learn, a status symbol particularly for the trip ahead.  

For the next 3 hours, without any exaggeration, at least 50 different people cheered us on, honked their horns with enthusiasm, and went out of their way to greet us and ask if we needed any directions, recommendations, or any other type of assitance.  Young children telling us what they knew about Canada, some people looking to practice their english, but most just welcoming us to their province and looking for a friendly chat.  A particular favorite moment of mine happened later in the day towards Andria, when we were stopped at a railroad crossing.  Two slick looking teenage boys on a vespa pulled up behind us and started chatting.  They asked how we were related and my father as always likes to point out he is 61 to see how many complements he can get.  The boys were impressed shouting "che giovane, incredibile" impressed at how young he looked for his vintage.  One then asked me how old I was, and when I responded 27 said "non c'e male, va bene" - i.e. you are doing ok, not too bad, but nothing that impressive!  My dad is convinced with all the attention we've been getting that someone has mistaken him for Mick Jagger.  If you want to feel like a rockstar, come to Puglia.

We stopped for lunch in Trani (Gary - no real tranis in sight), a picturesque coastal town and were treated to a phenomal seafood feast, of which you can see a few photos below.  We then headed off towards Andria where we had arranged to stop at a B&B that we had stumbled across in our research.  82.5km since our initial departure that morning we arrived but not without confusion as the place is a secret that we have since discovered is worth keeping.  There is no signage, no address, but if you are keen enough to find it you will be rewarded.  Poggio Tafuri is the home of Cristina and Giuseppe whom a year ago, upon prodding from their son, began opperating a small B&B from their family home dating back to the 1800s.  I say B&B but really it was more like arriving at your nonni's (grandparents) house after a long trip away.  We were treated to local burrata, their homemade wine, pasta, bread, and above all their incredible hospitality.  We stayed up until midnight discussing the state of affairs in Puglia and beyond, prompting us to decide there and then to stay another night.

After a quick morning run (seriously, for the amount we are eating, even a 100km of cycling a day is not enough to keep svelte!), we cycled into Andria to get a few adjustments to our bikes and then headed back to a lunch we had planned at a small restaurant in Montegrosso (middle of nowhere) which was supposed to be one of the best in Italy.  It did not disappoint. The key to the amazing meals we have had in the past 48 hours has been the local, natural, and fresh produce.  Even if you wanted to get this kind of food outside of Italy, let alone Milano, the connection to the people and land would be lost not to mention the journey itself would negatively affect the condition of the food.  The photos below do not do the food justice nor the ambience, and as it is not in good taste to cite the specific price of things in order to equate their value, all I will say is the trip to Antica Sappore is worth every mile you have to travel to arrive here.

Again, great hospitality, long chats with all the locals, and we were treated to a tour of their farm where they grow all the vegetables.  We intended to pick up after lunch for another long cycle, but decided to keep it short today, in preparation for a long journey tomorrow.  Back at "home" we lounged outside with the owners and their friends and enjoyed the tranquility of this little paradise on earth that we are privledged to have discovered.  42km only on the pedals today but far more miles away from what we expected on October 2nd, 2012!