Blundering around the little country roads well off the main highway, we came upon a parking lot and thence a path through pine woods and down to the cliffs overlooking a formation known as the Due Sorelle (two sisters).
An hour or so later we drove back toward San Cataldo to look at the Madonna di Rocca Vecchia (Madonna of the old fortress). She stands on a tall pillar that juts up incongruously on the edge of a rocky shore. Why she's there I haven't been able to find out. Below her are a series of natural pools and caves that had already filled up with frolicking Italians by the time we got there. The shrieking of the kids as they flapped around reminded me of crowds of seabirds clustering on rocks.
Can you see, just over the shoulder of the girl standing in the left foreground, the fellow jumping into the pool? At one point someone did a swan dive off the cliff in the background into the ocean, at the same time that someone else jumped into the pool. But it wasn't a moment I was able to capture.
Above are the remains of the old fortress on the far shore.
The rocks had a very interesting texture, almost like lace. I wonder if it's volcanic, or ancient coral, or...I have no idea.
Here's a close-up. Doesn't it look a lot like the baroque A at the beginning of my earlier blog entry about Lecce?
After our long, hot morning of hiking over rocks and sand, we decided to have lunch at San Cataldo's top-rated eatery, even though it bears the unappetizing name of Ristorante York. It's at one of the lidos along the shore, so we ate our very nice pranzo (big antipasto of all kinds of vegetables, spaghetti with mussels, tagliarini with sea urchin, fizzy pink wine) looking out at the blue sea and the deep brown sunbathers.
After that Danny was ready for a nap, but all I could think about was how nice the Adriatic looked. I decided to go back to Lido York and pay good money to sit on a beach that presumably had been cleared of concrete blocks and other dangers.
Since it was already 3:30 by time I got there, I only had to pay five euros for use of a big umbrella and a bright red lounge chair. (The full-day charge for an umbrella and two chairs is 18 euros.) I lounged in the shade and read my book ("Stiffed" by Susan Faludi, which I missed when it came out almost 20 years ago) and enjoyed the breeze and some excellent Italian-watching.
After some of the other people started going home, I got up the courage to go in the water. But my foray into the shallows was disheartening. There weren't any big pieces of anything, but the water, which looked so nice and blue at a distance, proved to be full of chips and flakes of some kind of dark brown plant matter that kept brushing against my ankles in a disconcertingly fishlike way.
I realized that this was why everyone except a few toddlers chose to get into the water by tottering out on the long blue float (more easily visible in this picture) and jumping in out there.
In the bay across from these two big rocks were several lidos, full of people enjoying the crystal blue water.
I looked down at this scene and started feeling like a real idiot for giving up on the Adriatic so quickly. I wanted to go swimming! That feeling only intensified after we hiked around in the hot sun for a while, admiring the spectacular scenery.
An hour or so later we drove back toward San Cataldo to look at the Madonna di Rocca Vecchia (Madonna of the old fortress). She stands on a tall pillar that juts up incongruously on the edge of a rocky shore. Why she's there I haven't been able to find out. Below her are a series of natural pools and caves that had already filled up with frolicking Italians by the time we got there. The shrieking of the kids as they flapped around reminded me of crowds of seabirds clustering on rocks.
After our long, hot morning of hiking over rocks and sand, we decided to have lunch at San Cataldo's top-rated eatery, even though it bears the unappetizing name of Ristorante York. It's at one of the lidos along the shore, so we ate our very nice pranzo (big antipasto of all kinds of vegetables, spaghetti with mussels, tagliarini with sea urchin, fizzy pink wine) looking out at the blue sea and the deep brown sunbathers.
After that Danny was ready for a nap, but all I could think about was how nice the Adriatic looked. I decided to go back to Lido York and pay good money to sit on a beach that presumably had been cleared of concrete blocks and other dangers.
Since it was already 3:30 by time I got there, I only had to pay five euros for use of a big umbrella and a bright red lounge chair. (The full-day charge for an umbrella and two chairs is 18 euros.) I lounged in the shade and read my book ("Stiffed" by Susan Faludi, which I missed when it came out almost 20 years ago) and enjoyed the breeze and some excellent Italian-watching.
After some of the other people started going home, I got up the courage to go in the water. But my foray into the shallows was disheartening. There weren't any big pieces of anything, but the water, which looked so nice and blue at a distance, proved to be full of chips and flakes of some kind of dark brown plant matter that kept brushing against my ankles in a disconcertingly fishlike way.
I realized that this was why everyone except a few toddlers chose to get into the water by tottering out on the long blue float (more easily visible in this picture) and jumping in out there.
In situations like this I'm reminded of what a social and physical scaredy-cat I really am. I'd paid five euros, though, and I couldn't bear to leave without having a swim. So I made my way to the end of the float, praying that my daily balance exercises would keep me upright, and jumped in. Out there the water was cool and clear and really delightful. It's also very salty, so floating was easy. I paddled around and watched the sailboats and the wind-surfers and congratulated myself on finally getting a swim out of this beach vacation. I was just sorry I hadn't gotten up the nerve to do it sooner.
I didn't feel too bad, though. Going to the beach and sitting around, idling away the afternoon with a book and my own thoughts, all that was fun when I was doing it as one-time research into Italian lido culture. But I'm still enough of a spoiled brat to feel that being stuck at the beach, because your house is all of 10 minutes away, is kind of a drag. And think of all the money I saved.
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