I was 21 when, fresh-faced, doe-eyed and daunted by the prospect of studying abroad in a different language, I moved to northern Italy. I rented an apartment, made international friends, began drinking Negronis and double espressos, and every now and then actually attended a university lecture. After those first few months in my adopted home, I naively thought I ‘knew’ Italy. When my year in Bologna came to an end, my realisation of the beginning of an understanding of Italy dawned on me -  I was just getting started. That all-too-fleeting year spawned a lifelong love affair with a country that has gone on to be my home many times over. 

I have always felt most myself in Italy, which is reason enough to return whenever I can. Yet Italy as we know it is a relatively recent construction, with ‘unification’ only taking place in 1861, and its 20 regions have retained their unique identities, forged by distinct cultures, histories and flavours. So it’s little wonder then that each time I visit I uncover something new, both about the country and myself. This proved true last summer when I ventured south to Puglia, Italy’s heel, with the unmissable Polignano a Mare, Lecce and Alberobello in our sights. 

Our journey began in Matera (in the neighbouring Basilica region), home to the oldest continuously inhabited settlement in Europe. Made famous more recently by the film No Time To Die, Matera is built into the rock of two canyons beside the River Gravina, and has been settled since the Paleolithic era. Evacuated in the 1950s due to the area’s extreme poverty and once considered the ‘shame of Italy’, it is now, rightly, in the midst of a renaissance.  

Travelling on a budget, we spent the night in a cavernous, candle-lit Airbnb, but vowed to return for Sextantio Le Grotte della Civita. This boutique hotel is found within one of the original cave dwellings that make up the UNESCO-protected Sassi, a traffic-free maze of stone churches (like the astounding Santa Maria de Idris) and hand-hewn caves that date back to the Stone Age. Our dinner, overlooking the city, was bathed in a golden light that bounced off the creamy stone houses - a view so beautiful it was near impossible to focus on our food. As we crawled into bed, a storm rumbled above, breaking the sweltering summer heat, and when it came time to leave the next morning, the air was crisp and the light soft, as if the city had been washed clean. I could only imagine how much more there was to explore in the plethora of nooks and passageways I’d barely skimmed the surface of.   

Like most of Puglia, coastal Polignano a Mare is a true melting pot, shaped by numerous invaders and visitors over the centuries. In contrast to its dynamic past, I experienced it as a place of rest, and spent a few slow days swimming at Cala Monachile, watching locals play Scopa, and eating gelato, pizza and some incredible seafood. Further south, I swam in some of the clearest water I’d ever seen at Melendugno and Grotta della Poesia (Cave of Poetry). We watched on as children leapt off rocky ledges and couples lazed across each other in the sun. I took endless rolls of film, the coloured chaos of umbrellas that lined the beaches the perfect subjects. My northern Italian slang began to morph into its southern cousin. 

 We spent a morning in Baroque Lecce, renowned for its 1st century amphitheatre and Piazza del Duomo. I was struck by the limestone facades in the city’s historic heart, the colour changing from dazzling white to pale honey with the passage of the sun. Something tickled me about these stone cities and how slippery the streets can become underfoot; it’s part of what I love about Italy, where beauty is so often prioritised over practicality. I wonder if my obsession with this county is why I’ve adopted this ethos in my own life?  

Much of Lecce was built when Puglia was under Spanish rule, and as we lazily wound our way through sleepy streets, I felt as if I could be in Valencia or Barcelona. The palazzos, once hubs of political activity, were sedate during the siesta hour, becoming artistic backdrops for the camera I couldn’t put down. Here, I fell in love with caffè Leccese - coffee sweetened with almond milk that tastes best when enjoyed with the local cake, pasticciotto. If the summer buzz feels too much though, I recommend escaping to nearby Masseria Li Veli, a winery that pairs Negroamaros and Primitivos with long, languid lunches. 

In the days that followed, our adventure took us to the UNESCO-protected Alberobello, with its famous trulli houses - perfect examples of the prehistoric, mortar-less, conical constructions this area is known for. Lined with whitewashed trulli, the streets were steep and winding, the pace was slow, and Alberobello looked (and felt) like something out of a fairytale. Surrounded by so much history, I couldn’t help but contemplate all that this little town must have seen. 

Monopoli is also well worth a wander. Catch a sunrise from the rooftop of Don Ferrante, a charming boutique hotel, before meandering along the coast to Porto Verde or Porto Rosso for a dip. Walk around Ostuni, the Città Bianca (White City), and eat at Ristorante Casa San Giacomo, a traditional trattoria in every sense of the word. Join a cooking class at Masseria Garrappa and stay for lunch, its ever-evolving menu featuring delights such as handmade ravioli with urchins that taste, deliciously, of the sea. And if you have something to celebrate, look to the Michelin-starred Due Camini restaurant at Borgo Egnazia, one of the most elegant hotels around.  

 Sadly, all good things must come to an end, and with the next leg of our journey beckoning, we bid farewell to Puglia. But as I travelled across the country to the island of Ischia, drunk on sun and whimsy, I thought about all the ways this country continues to shape me. Over the course of my Italian love affair I’ve become a version of myself that gesticulates dramatically, knows when to act flattered and when to walk right past a ciao bella, and has learnt to live to eat, rather than eat to live -  a profoundly enriching lesson. The way I interact with my femininity has changed too, with Italy teaching me to enjoy sensuality in my daily life, and place pleasure higher on my list of needs.  

 A 21-year-old woman is a malleable creature, and I’m grateful Italy and I met when we did, at a point where I could grow into my understanding of myself. And, like a good boot moulds to its wearer over time, so too have I adapted to this place. While a boot can be beautiful, as Italy is when you look upon it on a map, it’s nothing without its heel, which adds balance and complexity. It’s also where a boot wears away to show the shoe’s character and all the miles it has covered. Take an inch off the heel, and everything falls. Add an inch, and the wearer does. If Puglia is the heel of Italy, Italy is exactly where I was meant to find my feet.