Apulia by RV: 8 days between trulli and the Adriatic

We were looking for an Italian destination that wouldn't force us to spend our days on the highway. Apulia checked all the boxes: between Bari and the tip of the Salento, there are less than 250 kilometres. Everything we wanted to see fit within a comfortable radius, and best of all, every stop completely changed the scenery.

In eight days, we went from a bustling Adriatic port to dry stone houses capped with grey cones, then to a baroque town entirely carved out of honey-coloured stone, before ending up with our feet in the Ionian Sea. All without ever driving for more than two hours in a single day.

We landed at Bari Karol Wojtyła airport and picked up our campervan right there. Like everywhere in Italy, rates vary wildly from one rental company to another depending on the season, so we compared prices before booking. Here is the comparison tool we used for our campervan rental in Italy.

We went at the end of May, and looking back, it was the right call. May, June, September, and October bring great weather without the crowds. In July and August, locals are on vacation too, which means Salento's campsites are booked solid, historic centers get packed, and the heat inland turns downright oppressive.

Here is our actual budget for two people, for reference. The car rental expense remains by far the most variable.

Three things we wish we had known before leaving.

ZTLs are everywhere. The Zona a Traffico Limitato is a zone off-limits to unauthorized vehicles in almost all historic city centers. The cameras are automated, and the fine arrives in the mail months later back home, with rental agency processing fees thrown in for good measure. We got into the habit of parking outside the center every time and finishing on foot. In cities this size, that never adds more than a ten-minute walk.

Wild camping is not an option. It is illegal in Italy unless you have explicit local authorization. On the other hand, the network of aree di sosta (campsite service areas) is dense in the region, and many farms and olive oil estates welcome RV travelers.

Fuel is cheaper when you pump it yourself. Italian gas stations post two prices: fai da te (self-service) and servito (an attendant pumps it for you). The difference is 20 to 30 cents per litre. On a full tank in an RV, that is far from negligible.

Pick up the vehicle late in the morning, stop for groceries at an outlying supermarket, and then head for downtown. We left the RV in a parking lot near the port and set off on foot.

Bari Vecchia is a labyrinth. You willingly lose yourself in it. The Basilica di San Nicola is its heart, and it is here that the relics of Saint Nicholas, brought back from Myra by sailors from Bari in 1087, have been kept. The low, massive crypt alone is well worth the detour.

Then we looked for the famous Strada delle Orecchiette, officially known as Arco Basso. The women of the neighborhood shape pasta right outside their doorways, on tables set up in the alleyway. We bought a bag of dried pasta, which ended up in a pot three days later somewhere in the Valle d'Itria.

Thirty-five kilometres only, which left us the whole day to wander around.

Polignano a Mare is built on a limestone cliff plunging straight into turquoise water. The cove of Lama Monachile (Cala Porto) is nestled between two walls, beneath a bridge fifteen metres high. Many visitors mistake it for a Roman structure, but it is actually the Ponte Borbonico, built by the Bourbons in the 1830s. The real Roman bridge does exist, but it is lower and more discreet, down below in the bed of the lama: a single arch made of tufa blocks, a vestige of the Via Traiana that once connected Benevento to Brindisi. Few people walk down to see it, and that is a shame.

It is genuinely spectacular, and genuinely packed by 10 AM. We headed back down in the late afternoon, when the light turns golden and half the visitors have left.

Polignano is also the birthplace of Domenico Modugno, the writer of Nel blu, dipinto di blu, which everyone knows as "Volare". His statue looks out at the sea, arms open wide.

Twenty minutes further south, Monopoli is quieter and, honestly, we liked it better. The Porto Vecchio with its blue and white fishing boats, the cathedral, the ramparts: everything is right there, without the lines to take a picture of the exact same angle.

We left the coast and headed inland. The landscape changes fast: dry-stone walls, centuries-old olive trees, and those little conical buildings that show up one by one at first, then by the dozens.

The trulli of Alberobello have been a UNESCO World Heritage site since 1996. The Rione Monti neighborhood features over a thousand of them clustered along a few sloping alleyways. It is gorgeous and very touristy, with souvenir shops on the ground floors and tour buses dropping off passengers continuously.

Just a few kilometres away, Locorotondo gets its name from its perfect circular layout. It is white, quiet, covered in flowers, and ranked among Italy's most beautiful villages. We stayed in an RV area right in the middle of the vineyards, overlooking the valley. The next morning, coffee outside and not a sound.

Ostuni can be seen from afar: a completely whitewashed town perched on a hill above a sea of olive trees. You understand the nickname Città Bianca long before you even get there. The maze of winding alleyways climbs all the way up to the cathedral and its large Gothic rose window.

In the afternoon, head for the Torre Guaceto nature reserve, about twenty kilometres away. It is a protected marine area with controlled access and a shuttle bus in high season. Sandy beaches, dunes, wetlands: nothing like the concrete lidos you find further south.

Eighty-five kilometres and a total change of scenery.

Lecce is built from pietra leccese, a soft, almost buttery limestone that is easy to carve and takes on a honeyed hue in the setting sun. The result is facades saturated with details, garlands, and grotesque figures. The Basilica di Santa Croce is the pinnacle of this craft. You can stand there for several minutes with your head tilted back and still not take it all in.

In Piazza Sant'Oronzo, a Roman amphitheater sits right in the city center, half-excavated. The layering of different eras is striking.

Lecce is also the capital of cartapesta, the art of papier-mâché, with workshops still active right in the center. And on the sweet side, you can't leave without trying a pasticciotto, that little custard-filled pastry served warm in the morning. We ate one every single day until the end of the trip.

Otranto is the easternmost town in Italy. Its cathedral houses a floor entirely covered in a 12th-century mosaic created by the monk Pantaleone, featuring a massive tree of life blending biblical scenes, fantastic animals, and secular figures. You literally walk right on it. It is one of the strangest and most beautiful things we saw on the trip.

North of town, Baia dei Turchi offers a pine-fringed beach, accessible on foot from a secluded parking lot.

The winding and gorgeous coastal road south leads to Santa Maria di Leuca, at the tip of the heel. The De Finibus Terrae sanctuary, literally "at the ends of the earth," overlooks the cape. It is here, on Punta Méliso, that the Adriatic and the Ionian seas meet, at least according to the boundary established by the International Hydrographic Organization. Other nautical conventions place the border about sixty kilometres further north, at Punta Palascìa, near Otranto.

The locals have no doubts, however, it is in Leuca. Some days, when the salinity of the two water masses differs enough, people say a demarcation line can be seen with the naked eye. We didn't spot anything like that, but the view from the square was well worth the detour.

Heading up the Ionian coast, which is milder and more sandy.

Gallipoli is divided into two parts: the modern city on the mainland, and the historic center on an island connected by a bridge. The Castello Angioino guards the entrance. In the narrow streets, you can visit old frantoi ipogei, underground olive oil mills carved into the rock, where people used to work by the light of oil lamps.

For swimming, we preferred the Porto Selvaggio natural park, a bit further north, near Nardò: pine forests, rocky coves, and no beach resorts.

For our last day, we cut inland toward the Grotte di Castellana. The underground network stretches for about three kilometres, with a constant temperature around 15 °C, which feels amazing after a week of sunshine. The absolute highlight is the Grotta Bianca, an alabaster chamber of an almost otherworldly whiteness.

Forty kilometres further on, back to Bari, a full tank of gas, and time to return the car.

Eight days is just the right amount of time for this loop. You have time to stop, to spend two nights in the same spot when you love it, and to head back without feeling like you were rushing.

What really stands out is the density of it all. Every fifty kilometres brings something radically different, and an RV is the only way to link all of that together without spending your time packing and unpacking bags. Next time, we are going to add the Gargano, way up north, which we deliberately skipped due to lack of time. It will be our excuse to come back.