No one loves babies as much as Italians; that’s the stereotype, right? I imagine there would be a few choice words if a stranger pinched the cheeks of my one-year-old daughter on the streets of England, yet in Puglia, where enthusiastic passersby tickled her toes and ruffled her hair, it was completely charming. Kids ran up to her, smiles broke the faces of stoic waiters, and each nonna waved as we strolled past their favourite bench in the evening. Wonderful.
Puglia is not on the traditional Italy family holiday map in the same way places like Sardinia or Tuscany are, but it should be. Here, the young’uns are involved in everything, from large family gatherings at the beach on Sundays to running around the piazza during a festival at 1am. I learned quickly that taxis aren’t really a thing, simply because there is always family around somewhere to give someone a lift.
