Santa Maria di Leuca - continued

A Ghanaian speaking perfect Italian acted as my translator and
 the muscly chaps provided the ladies with some visual entertainment

Usually I tend to move on with these blog posts once we have left a place, but for a number of reasons, Santa Maria di Leuca lingers and I feel compelled to touch on a few more things before we leave and discover the Gulf of Taranto on our way to Sicily. Despite the Porto Turistico - the Marina in the harbour - being a bit open to the swell and us having had one dodgy incident, it is a perfect place.  

The incident in question happened on Saturday morning. We heard very loud police sirens and, looking out, soon realised that they came from coast guard RIBs racing into the harbour at a tremendous speed. Someone with a medical emergency had been evacuated from a ship and was being rushed to a waiting ambulance. The sedate 3 knot speed limit in the harbour was probably exceeded by an order of magnitude and a huge swell ensued. Our toerail  came off second best in the argument with the yacht next to us and we were left with a mangled aluminium extrusion just waiting to catch someone as they walked forward.  Once everything had calmed down, we visited the Guardia Costiera to have a little chat about the damage, liabilities and such.  Unsurprisingly they have no insurance and in a medical emergency have the right to do what ever it takes, etc. Sergente Russo was terribly friendly and even offered to write us a report for our insurance for which they would only charge € 70.  This though seemed above the going rate for a piece of paper saying "non è il nostro problema", so we declined. In the end a little coercing by two muscly chaps sorted out most of the problem and via an informal agreement for much less than the € 70. So all that is left is another line item in the 'to do' list for the winter.

Muriccio in Leuca

Cooking on board Rocko is limited only by space. We have all we need in terms of utensils and the like, so really it is down to imagination and ingredients. We, I say we, but I mean Catherine, stocked up very carefully in Turkey and Greece on non-perishables, which meant that we only needed to take care of fresh food.  Here in Italy the produce is of such spectacular quality and value that I have become  completely obsessed and cannot resist going into each and every little supermarket.  Pam discovered Murricio and it is like an outlet shop for the Garden of Eden. As we looked around the owner kept on handing us nibbles to try, one more delicious than the other.  Eventually, hampered only by our ability to carry, we headed back down the hill to the harbour and the galley became a gastronomic playground again.
   

The architecture in Leuca combines eccentricity with signs of genuine historic influence.

Symmetrical Lecce Stone Villaa	All beautifully manicured	Shade is worth gold
Kitsch in any other setting	19th Century Gothic	Villa Pink
Yours for the summer if you so wish (and pay)	Pines in the mid-day heat	Even a Pagoda

The 'Pirate boat' with the dangerous skipper

After all the RYA indoctrination one views the relatively informal approach to yachting here with a combination of alarm and bemusement.  A dutch chap I met put it very succinctly when he said that he never left his yacht in the marina as you were only ever 20 minutes away from a disaster.  I have taken to asking neighbours if they are leaving when we go out and Catherine thought that was very thoughtful and polite of me. I explained however that it was nothing to with that, I was just making sure they wouldn't leave when we were not around and snap our mooring lines or crunch our hull.  One could start a book on the incidents big and small. We are amazed sometimes though at how people charter a boat with a skipper, crowd way too many on board and are then oblivious about the dangers they face with a skipper who can't get his boat out, with no wind, without practically wiping out his neighbours. The 'Pirate' boat near us crammed 15 people on board the other day and set off for a day sail. I silently said a few prayers for them, which seemed to have worked as, miraculously, they did return.  Catherine is grateful, it seems, to be able to practice her expletive Italian hand signals which also work, as the skipper in question came past to apologise for almost mooring up side-to and taking out our anchor in the process.

Apulia - Otranto to Santa Maria di Leuca.

The continuation of my stay in Otranto was slightly extended as Catherine flew to Lyon for a concert and, rather than practice heat management for a week (read: sitting in an air-conditioned bar), I decided to do an Open Water diving course at the local SCUBA diving school. People warned me that the bug might bite.  After a number of days studying the theory and diving every afternoon,  it turned out they were quite right.  It was a fantastic experience and I think I will have to go on  holiday some time soon to go diving - oh, yes,  I am already on holiday... diving.	On the way to a dive - Acquario Nord, Otranto
Catherine came back after an eventful trip that saw her unnecessarily supporting the French taxi industry, but I am only able to recount that tale at a later stage when the pain dulls (just remind me to tell you by mentioning the words; missed connection, taxi, Lyon to Geneva).  The next day Catherine's sister, Isabelle and our good friend Pam who lives in Zurich joined us and they spent the day exploring Lecce while I completed the final dive and theory of the course. Then, after stocking up with some amazing food and wine, we left Otranto for Santa Maria di Leuca on the heel of Italy.	A new connotation of "empties" for me.
Slightly confused seas, but a good following wind made for a rocky first sail for our two new guests, but we arrived in good shape and settled into Leuca Marina that was to be our base for the next days. Burrata, sun dried and cherry tomatoes starter Leuca is unobtrusive, yet steeped in history. Geographically it is where the Ionian and Adriatic meet and many historic influences are still evident in the architecture whether Greek, Arab or Ottoman. Below the lighthouse and overlooking the harbour is the water cascade which is the most southerly point of the Apulian Aqueduct. A few times a year the water is blasted out at thousands of litres a second to clean the cobwebs from the system. The steps leading up to the top of the hill, the same ones that Mussolini climbed during its opening in 1939, are crowded with onlookers, but unfortunately it is not scheduled to happen during our stay.
Salento coast line and Grotto after Grotto	Cascade at the end of the 2000 kilometer Acquedotto Pugliese
Leuca and the Harbour from the lighthouse	Santa Maria di Leuca Lighthouse

Some Images of Lecce - "Florence of the South"
Lecce - Florence of the South	Prickly Pears  - Pam still sports some of the spines

To the matter of Olives
For those of you who read my ramblings diligently, you will remember that I mentioned Apulia and the connection to Olive Trees when we were in Naxos. Well, we had set up a meeting with George (colloquially; Giorgio) and Mitsue and spent the next day in their charming company on their farm L'upupa just a few kilometres away in Salve. George,  an Appenzeller, is an olive oil producer, farmer, raconteur and dry stone wall restorer par excellence. His knowledge is only exceeded by his passion and we wandered for hours and hours among 1000 year old trees separated on terraces by ancient dry stone walls. Afterwards Mitsue treated us to a feast from her garden and the world was whole again.	George telling me that the highway code is only a guideline
Trulli on L'upupa 1000 years old  - no, the tree..	George and one of his ancient olive trees  In Giorgio's 1971 Fiat 500 Cabriolet - no seat belts
Food in Salento (the southernmost region of Apulia) is a delight and I recommend staying far away if you are contemplating any sort of folly such as going on a diet. On Sunday we joined friends of Isabelle who are from Neuchatel and Leuca for an afternoon meal. The lunch went on until after 10pm and would have carried on much longer had we not have insisted that we absolutely couldn't eat another thing. Even the parking ticket we received for overstaying the metered time was written off by the local traffic person as we were obviously engaged in the important past-time of eating and drinking local fare. Salento	Unreal looking tomatoes that taste too delicious A photo doesn't do these Calamari justice
This week's crew all spruced up for dinner	The view South from L'upupa

Surveying the scenery with George	Maserati with Topgear treatment	After a dive
Famous Lecce Stone	Lecce	Lecce

Sun setting on another week

Corfu to Italy

Before we left Greece for the season and set sail for Italy, we explored a few places along the most north eastern part of the Greek mainland.  While some places such as the Sivota Islands, where we spent a couple of nights, look idyllic on postcards, they tend to be overrun by tourists, all with a penchant for renting loud and fast motor boats. We opted for a small, unassuming, yet charming place called Platarias next and spent a few days in this all but forgotten part of Greece. The harbour is a base for a well-known budget flotilla company but outside of their turnaround days it is all but deserted. Again we experienced the shift from being in transit to staying on for a few days.	Misty departure from Greece
Wall-to-wall Dinghies at Mourtos Our route onwards took us north along the coast east of Corfu and right to the border of Albania. This is a pretty desolate part of the world with the only intrusion upon the gentle scenery being the fish farms, whose garish buoys and swathes of netting mask a murky industry that produces perfectly sized Sea Bass that are sold as fresh catch of the day. We managed to find an idyllic bay that shares a border with Albania and a home with several guard dogs who barked incessantly through the night.	The locals become more accommodating and what was not possible on day one becomes achievable after a few days, such as asking the local restaurant if we can use their washing machines for our huge pile of laundry. Catherine had to haggle the price up in fact as they only wanted to charge a quarter of the going rate. There is a sizeable Italian community in Platarias who benefit from the lower cost of living and whose presence means the second language here is Italian and more importantly guarantees that the coffee is excellent. Their influence is yet to be felt on the wine supply though, but that could probably be fixed quite easily.   Two full moons last night - or was it the Ouzo?
Fish Farms spoiling the view - Albanian border Being buzzed by Oppies in Corfu bay	The lush Sivota Islands  Mourtos Bay - we managed to find a quiet corner
Our last stop in Greece was the island of Othoni, just a few miles north west of Corfu. This is a popular stop-over for yachts transiting to and from Italy and by the time the sun set the bay where we anchored looked like it was hosting an armada. We had every intention of setting off before dawn to take full advantage of the good winds that were predicted for our course.  A heavy sea that night and ominous clouds put a stop to that though. So, after just over 1,000 nautical miles and over 25 islands we left the very familiar Greek waters and plunged into the unknown, both  figuratively but literally too as the sunrise was accompanied by an impenetrable mist. We sailed into it for the first hour as we made our way almost due West to Porto Otranto in Puglia.   The second skipper got the foghorn out just in case - must be a violinist's instinct at work. We made very good time and the 50 nautical miles were gobbled up in just over 8 hours.The last hour into Otranto was just champagne sailing and perfectly calmed us for the seeming chaos that greeted us upon arrival in the port.  The old town overlooks the port that incongruously shares its crystal waters with hundreds of motor boats, a few beaches, the Coast Guard, and the marina.   Land of the umbrella	Plunging into the mist Italian  flag replaces well-worn Greek one
The beaches were heaving with holiday makers and the sea of umbrellas was a sight to behold. We anchored in amongst the fray to start with until we got our bearings and, more importantly, got hold of the mobile number of the man who sorts out berths - VHF is not a well-used item here it seems.  Andrea is as helpful as he is friendly and in no time he had us squeezed against the quay opposite the fresh water tap and a cable extension's length away from the informal electricity supply.  There is a lesson in this and that is that there is no point in fretting just because your northern European sense of order and process presents a hopeless picture. Everything is negotiable here, but not in an unpleasant haggling sort of way. No doubt Catherine speaking Italian smooths things somewhat. Did I say blonde...	Marina with a view
Otranto Basilica	Our afternoon was spent taking in the new scenery while we savoured Nocciola and Fig Gelato. The marble and sandstone buildings reflect the light so differently here from the white-wash and cobalt blue that we had grown accustomed to in Greece. It is like walking into a Fellini film, set in a 19th century bathing resort. EU funding doesn't harm either and the Basilica is impeccably preserved with the largest mosaic floor you can imagine and a pristine carved ceiling.  So much ice cream - so little time.

There is a backdrop of friendliness and warmth here that has already endeared this place to us despite the first impression which was like the panic of two wide-eyed country folk used to deserted islands hitting the big city.

Otranto - view of the old town from the port