Ferragosto: The Italian Summer

By Ken Pope

I have been remiss in my postings here but I'm going to blame it on August, the time of year when all of Italy goes on holiday. While some smart shoppers take their break in July (or even less frequently in June or September), the traditional time to get away is August. In the cities, most businesses are shuttered for at least half of the month (and often more, which actually makes it rather pleasant for the people that remain—there's less traffic, less pressure, less work, less reason to do anything productive, though even that is easier if one is so inclined, as nobody is calling or pestering you with constant email requests) and the highways to the beach and the mountains are filled with enough red brake lights to make even Dario Argento's use of the color seem subtle.

Ferragosto, the fifteenth of the month and a national holiday, is peak vacation time. It has its roots in Feriae Augusti (“August Holidays”, in honor of Ottaviano Augusto, the first Roman emperor), which was introduced in 18 BC as a day of rest after weeks of agricultural labor and celebrated on the first day of August. It continued that way until the 7th Century when the Catholic Church, took the pagan celebration and shifted it to mid-month, the Assumption of Mary, which is the official present-day holiday though you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who refers to the fifteenth as anything other than Ferragosto.

With the myriad travel restrictions this year curtailing an international getaway, we, along with seemingly half the Italian population, went to Salento, a part of Puglia that encompasses the heel of the Italian boot. As we did last year, we stayed at the Alfema Rooms in Torre San Giovanni on the Ionian coast. Stylish, newly built and family run, it's a fine place for a family vacation as it abuts the Pista Salentina, a go-kart track, which sounds a little odd but in the end turned out to be a fun place to have friends over to eat a pizza and take a spin around the track.

But for me, the real draw to the area is the sandy beach—not always the case in Italy—of Lido Sabbioso and its attendant restaurant. The sea is clear like the Caribbean and you can walk for 50 meters before reaching shoulder-level. And then there's the restaurant. Lucio, the chef, prepares tuna (carpaccio, tartare, or very lightly grilled) with an expert hand and his mussels—the best of which come from Italy's Adriatic coast during the summer months—are likewise exceptional. Last year we ate lunch there every day for three weeks and didn't regret it a bit.

I'd be likewise content to eat dinner every night at Azzurra in the port of Torre San Giovanni. We originally went there—and kept returning—for the light and crispy pizzas but found that the pastas, meat, and fish certainly held their own. Over the course of seven or eight visits, we didn't have one bad dish, though they don't take reservations so be prepared to wait, especially if you want a table outside.