Via Francigena South
Monte Sant’Angelo - Santa Maria di Leuca
(580 kms - 23 days)
Closing a chapter...
The Via Francigena South marks the conclusion of yet another chapter in our walking journeys across Italy. However, we had many doubts before deciding to undertake this specific route. To explain: every year, we meet people who inspire us to explore new paths. Consequently, we keep "collecting" so many wonderful itineraries that choosing just one becomes difficult.
After much deliberation, we decided it was time to finish the Via Francigena. In 2018, we walked the Via Francigena Central from Aosta to Rome. In 2023, it was the turn of the Via Francigena Nord. We began walking in Calais, France. Technically, that route starts in Canterbury, England—two days before crossing the English Channel—but due to bureaucratic issues at the time, we chose to start our walk in Calais and make our way to Aosta. Between those two walks, we covered a total of 2,350 km. To complete this long journey, we needed to take the Via Sud, which runs from Rome to Santa Maria di Leuca.
However, we wanted to walk along the coast. That is why we opted for the *Variante di Monte Sant’Angelo* (Monte Sant’Angelo Variant), which leads through Mount Gargano in Puglia all the way to Santa Maria di Leuca. It was the perfect path to combine our two desires: finishing the Via Francigena and walking by the sea.
We left home on Sunday, April 12, on a flight via Lisbon that was scheduled to arrive in Rome in the early hours of Tuesday, April 14. This meant we spent Monday in Lisbon, catching up with friends—albeit briefly. We walked around the city and, in the afternoon, returned to the airport to board the evening flight to Rome, which would arrive in the early hours of the following day. Given the timing, we decided to find accommodation near Fiumicino Airport. The next morning, after a well-deserved rest, we returned to the airport to catch a train to Roma Tiburtina. From there, we took a bus bound for Monte Sant’Angelo. It was a long, seven-hour journey. Fortunately, the bus was comfortable and relatively empty, allowing us to rest and enjoy a bit more of “Bella Italia”. As we neared the town, we switched buses; the driver and the two of us boarded a smaller minibus from the same company.
Our driver—by then a friend—was a local from Monte Sant’Angelo. Along the way, he had the "blessed" curiosity to ask where we were staying. We told him we’d be at an Airbnb for two days, and he asked whose place it was. We mentioned the owner's name. That was all it took for him to call his wife; shortly after, the owner called back to explain exactly where the rental was located. Thanks to this, the driver dropped us off just steps away from the Airbnb at 10:00 PM.
Do you know what that meant to us at that moment? Everything! The town is medieval; the streets are a labyrinth of stairways going up and down. At that hour, with the accumulated fatigue from the journey, finding the accommodation would have been incredibly difficult. In the end, we arrived safe and sound and rested in a comfortable bed in our lovely studio apartment.
The next day, we woke up at a leisurely pace. After breakfast, we set out to explore the town and the Sanctuary of Saint Michael the Archangel, and to pick up our pilgrim credentials at the address we already had. We opened the door to find a cold, fine drizzle and a thick fog so dense we couldn't see a hand's breadth in front of us. Still, we pressed on. But where to? That was the problem. We asked a local woman where the sanctuary was. She gave us directions, but getting there proved to be a near-impossible mission; the GPS on our phones wasn't showing the easiest route, but rather a tangle of winding, tortuous streets. Navigating the ups and downs of the staircases, weaving in and out of the alleyways, and dealing with the fog made the situation complicated. That was when we found a street that appeared to be the main one; from there, we reached our destination.
The city's highlights include the Sanctuary of Saint Michael the Archangel—built inside a cave where the angel appeared—the Baptistery of San Giovanni in Tumba, the Church of Santa Maria Maggiore, the Castle, the Quartiere Junno (the historic district where we were staying), and a beautiful view of the Gulf of Manfredonia.
Since it took us a while to find the sanctuary, we had to wait until 2:30 PM for it to reopen, but it was worth it. We arrived just in time for the Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament ceremony. It was beautiful and deeply moving. The sanctuary was built inside a cave; legend has it that it was miraculously consecrated by the Archangel himself in 490 AD, following a series of apparitions to a local bishop. Today, it is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Filled with emotion, we explored the entire complex and visited the whole town before meeting up with Nico, who was to provide us with our Via Francigena credentials. Nico was very attentive and came to meet us. With our credentials in hand, we were ready to set off the next day, though we were concerned about the weather; conditions were far from ideal for the descent, which was rugged and rocky. To give you an idea, the trail is named “Scannamogliera” — a local dialect term literally meaning "tall and strong." The name stems from the steep incline and the challenging, rocky terrain. It is an extremely steep and exhausting trail, with a reputation for being so unforgiving that it demands immense effort from anyone ascending or descending it.
Descending the “Scannamogliera” trail...
We woke up to a beautiful day. The sunbathed everything in incredible light, and the cool, pleasant air promised to make the difficult leg of our journey a bit easier. We set off in high spirits but with some apprehension, unsure of what lay ahead. After all, the previous day's rain had left everything wet, making the rocky descent very slippery.
We easily reached the start of the “Scannamogliera” trail. We paused to admire Gargano Park—the view was truly breathtaking—and then took our first steps down the mountain. We moved with great caution, as the stones were incredibly slippery and water was still running over them. Suddenly, our worst fear came true: a fall while wearing our backpacks. Helinho slipped and landed hard on his backside. It was a tragicomic moment. We were worried, though; he had twisted his knee, and the pain was immediate. We stopped to assess the situation and decide what to do—applying a massage and taking medication to ease the pain and recover from the shock. After all, we were only just getting started.
Once we had recovered, we resumed our descent. It was a very steep descent—taken step-by-step and with great caution—as we navigated around grazing cattle and checked our GPS to ensure we were on the right path. While the trail markers were visible at the start and end, the tall brush caused us some uncertainty along the way. At one point, we realized we were heading in the wrong direction and had to climb over a barbed-wire fence to get back on track.
We passed by the rock-hewn church of Jazzo Ognissanti. Carved directly into the rock, the church dates to the 9th century. A village once stood there, with dwellings also carved into the rock face; we saw traces of paths, stairways, cisterns, animal pens, and ovens. Inside the cave, remnants of an altar are still visible, along with frescoes of Saint Michael and the Virgin with the Christ Child, as well as several crosses.
Despite the difficulties, we didn't encounter the issue reported by others who had made the descent. In a discussion group for people who had hiked this route, there were reports of dogs intimidating hikers. We didn't see them ourselves, but those who had encountered them described them as quite aggressive. The matter was brought to the attention of the Monte Sant’Angelo municipal authorities, though we never learned what measures were taken to resolve the problem.
Nearing the end of the descent, we reached a country road. Looking back, we could see the vastness of the mountain and the blooming valley. It was a magical yet challenging experience. After six hours of walking, we arrived at our destination: Manfredonia.
Manfredonia is a historic city featuring a port, beaches, and a blend of Roman history, medieval architecture, and nature. We explored part of the city and walked along the main shopping street, where we were approached by two men handing out religious messages. We stopped to chat, and they were impressed to learn that we intended to continue all the way to the final town at the tip of Puglia, on the Salento Peninsula. In the late afternoon, there is a constant flow of people along this main street, where friends and families gather to chat, have a coffee or an ice cream, and linger until the shops close around 9 p.m.
Our journey at sea level began in Manfredonia. The next day, we set off for Zapponeta, covering a long stretch that lacked notable attractions. Zapponeta is a small, quiet town; it stands out for its peaceful fishing-village atmosphere, calm beaches, and agricultural roots.
The walk from Zapponeta to Margherita di Savoia was uneventful, despite the sun and the rather unappealing road. In fact, we felt a twinge of disappointment during these two days following the spectacular descent through Gargano Park. Our spirits only lifted when we met a local man and stopped to chat. We shared our usual story—about our walk and our plans—and heard him say: “The important thing is doing what makes you happy.”
Margherita di Savoia lies between the Adriatic Sea and Europe's largest salt pan. The town is famous for its golden sandy beaches and thermal waters.
We had to get our pilgrim credentials stamped in every town. So, we went to the cathedral, and by coincidence, the parish priest had served on a mission in Maranhão. He told us a bit about the mission; we said our goodbyes and went for a walk along the seafront. Afterward, we did some shopping so we could set off early the next morning for Barletta.
The start of the route was quite tedious—walking on asphalt along a very dangerous road—until we met a cyclist who showed us an alternative path. He said it would be much more pleasant and run right alongside the sea. Thinking it would be worth it, we backtracked a kilometer to take a smaller road. At one point, we stopped to rest. Checking the GPS, we realized this route would significantly lengthen our journey, which was already grueling under the intense sun. Two Italians on bikes passed by, and we decided to ask if we should continue along that road. That turned out not to be the best move. The two men couldn't agree with each other, so we ended up following our instincts. We pressed on until, at one point, we saw the sea wasn't far off. Finally, we reached a beach. We were happy to have a bit of a breeze in our favor.
So, we continued along the beach all the way to Barletta. It was Sunday, and the locals were gathered along the waterfront; everyone was smartly dressed and stared at us as if we were outsiders. We were just two "backpackers," sweaty and tired from an exhausting trek. We understood the reason for all the stares when a young man in a group shouted out: "Look, mountain hikers!"
It was a humorous dig at our attire. Despite the scorching heat, we were wearing hiking trousers and sneakers, with our arms and necks covered, and we had caps and trekking poles. In short, nothing about it fit the laid-back beach vibe. We smiled and went on our way.
Barletta is a beautiful city that blends nature, culture, and beaches. The Castello Svevo is an imposing fortress overlooking the coast. The “Colosso di Barletta”—a 4.5-meter-tall bronze statue in the historic center—is believed to depict a Roman or Byzantine emperor. There is also the beautiful Cathedral of Santa Maria Maggiore; the Giuseppe De Nittis Art Gallery, housed in the impressive Palazzo della Marra and home to over 200 works by the renowned 19th-century Impressionist painter; and the shopping streets. The restaurants and bars were bustling. It was one of those cities where we wished we could stay longer, but we didn't give in to the urge and left for Trani the next day.
The day's journey was to be shorter. So, without rushing, we left Barletta and explored a bit more of the city. We walked along small roads, passed through the outskirts, and found it amusing when we stopped to rest on a low wall marked with a surveillance camera warning. There was no shade at all, but we decided to sit there for a while anyway. We noticed a few cars driving past us, going to the end of the street and then turning back. We realized we were being watched. To this day, we don't know what kind of threat we might have posed, but we decided to cut our rest short and move on to Trani.
It was lucky that we arrived in Trani early. Trani is known as the "Pearl of the Adriatic." It is a city that offers a sophisticated, less hectic atmosphere. Highlights include the impressive Trani Cathedral (Basilica Cathedral of Saint Nicholas the Pilgrim), the 13th-century Castello Svevo, the historic Jewish Quarter (“Giudecca”), the harbor, and the lighthouse. It was in Trani that we first tried “Taralli”—delicious snacks that we became hooked on during this trip.
The route we took from Trani to Bisceglie was unforgettable. We walked right along the seaside under a blue sky. The contrast between the sea, the flowers, and the beach—with its white pebbles—kept any creeping fatigue at bay. When we reached the long promenade at the edge of town, we stopped for a coffee and to savor the experience of that delightful walk a little longer.
Bisceglie is a charming town with a rich historical heritage; it is home to one of the region's most traditional fishing ports. Colorful boats, restaurants, and fresh seafood draw visitors to the town. In the historic center, we visited the Cathedral of Saint Peter and viewed palaces dating back to the 15th and 16th centuries. Yet not everything was idyllic; the town was reeling from a crime that had occurred just days earlier—a crime of passion that had shaken the local community. There was a heavy presence of TV crews covering the funeral. Violence, yes—but nothing like what we unfortunately witness back home in our own country.
The next day, we set off for the next town, Molfetta. It was an overcast day—perfect for walking. Upon reaching the town entrance, we stopped at a church located in a square. A very helpful woman approached us; seeing that we had walked a long way, she immediately told us we could find accommodation and get our pilgrim credentials stamped there, and she offered to show us the Church of Our Lady of Martyrdom (Nossa Senhora do Martírio), the patroness of fishermen. We then continued our way. The rain began to fall harder, bringing the cold with it. It is worth noting that in practically all small Italian towns, shops close between 2:00 PM and 5:00 PM. Fortunately for us, however, Puglia has vending machines (“distributori automatici”) offering local products, sandwiches, and drinks—which often proved to be our saving grace.
It wasn't long before the rain let up, though the cold remained. We set out to explore the historic center, the bustling port, and the 12th-century Cathedral of San Corrado, located right by the sea. The historic center is a labyrinth of narrow, winding streets lined with medieval buildings made of white limestone. The following day, as we left the town under a beautiful, shining sun, we were able to enjoy views of the local beaches. Molfetta is known for its rocky coves and crystal-clear waters. Prima Cala is a small, quiet cove with nearby bars. Cala San Giacomo is a pebble beach that is also popular for a relaxing swim, as is Lido Algamarina, a well-organized and peaceful beach resort.
The walk to Giovinazzo was short and very scenic. We were pleasantly surprised to find that Giovinazzo is a charming fishing town, featuring medieval cobblestone streets and ancient walls dating back to Roman and Norman times. Despite the strong, icy wind, we couldn't resist sitting on a bench in Piazza Vittorio Emanuele II, watching families and friends chatting animatedly. A group of four friends walked back and forth across the square, deep in conversation. This was our entertainment for the day; it didn't last long due to the cold wind, but it didn't stop us from watching the locals come and go or witnessing a beautiful sunset we’ll never forget. Taking in this idyllic scene, we decided not to stop in Bari, our originally planned next destination. Instead, we headed for Mola di Bari, further along the way. At that moment, we weren't ready to stop in a big city amidst all the hustle and bustle.
Mola di Bari wasn't much different from what we were used to. We saw the castle, the harbor, and the waterfront promenade. We sat in the main square late in the afternoon to enjoy watching the locals go about their day. We rested up before continuing to Polignano a Mare the next day.
We had a choice to make: a 5-minute train ride from Mola di Bari to Polignano a Mare or a 4-hour walk. The crucial thing was that we needed to reach our accommodation by noon at the latest. It was a public holiday, and our host could only check us in by that time. Even so, we chose to walk, as that was our goal. For the most part, we followed a bike path along a secondary road. We encountered a Swiss hiker for the first time—someone walking the route in the opposite direction. At one point, we managed to leave the road and walk right by the sea for a few kilometers, but we had to return to the bike path to save time and make our deadline.
We arrived in time to see the town teeming with tourists and a band playing marches to celebrate Liberation Day (“Festa della Liberazione”). This is a national holiday celebrating the end of the Nazi occupation and the fascist regime in 1945. On this day, Italians also honor the popular resistance (“partigiani”).
After a brief rest, we set out to explore the town at a leisurely pace. We decided to stay an extra day to enjoy the town without the crowds of tourists.
Polignano a Mare is a must-visit destination in Puglia. It is famous for its historic center—characterized by white houses—as well as its cliffs and clear waters. A major highlight is the pebbly beach of Lama Monachile, framed by towering cliffs and spanned by an ancient Roman bridge. Other attractions include the statue of Domenico Modugno—the famous singer of the song "Volare," who was born in the town—and boat tours of the sea caves. Otherwise, we simply enjoyed ourselves by sitting on the balcony of our small apartment, sipping wine and watching the comings and goings of tourists, the band playing in the small square opposite, and the procession for San Vito, the town's patron saint. We spent two delightful days in Polignano a Mare. Finally, ready to continue our journey, we woke up early the next day and set off, walking along the Adriatic Sea.
It was a beautiful walk to Monopoli. Despite having to cross stone walls—which we did very carefully—we encountered plenty of flowers and wonderful beaches, eventually arriving at a paradise called Portalga. It was one of those places where you just want to linger; the waters were clear and calm, and there was absolute silence. We stayed a while to soak up the good vibes before moving on. We briefly interrupted a young man who was enjoying a spot of nude sunbathing in that secluded area, passed medieval towers, and took the opportunity to enjoy the tranquility and the idyllic scenery.
Like other towns in Puglia, Monopoli is incredibly charming. It boasts a well-preserved, pedestrian-only historic center filled with whitewashed houses and bustling restaurants. The harbor, the castle, and Cala Porta Vecchia beach—located just beyond the ancient walls—round out Monopoli’s scenic landscape.
It was at this point in the walk that we had to deal with a setback. Our next destination was supposed to be Savelletri, famous for its luxury resorts. We investigated accommodation but couldn't find anything within our budget. Consequently, we decided against Savelletri and headed for Torre Cane instead. However, the distance was too great, so we had to take a train to cut the journey short. Since there were no direct trains or buses to Torre Cane, we went to Fasano and caught transport from there to our destination. We arrived very early and had to wait half the day before we could check into our accommodation. The town was quite small but very pleasant; we spent the time exploring the area, having lunch, and walking along the seafront.
The route from Torre Cane to Torre Santa Sabina runs almost entirely along the beach. Heavy backpacks make walking on soft sand very difficult, so we once again opted for transport. We returned to Fasano and took another bus to a train station, which then took us to a different station—one that seemed somewhat abandoned—partway along the route. From there, we walked to Torre Santa Sabina along a rather dangerous road.
Torre Santa Sabina is a seaside resort town. The tower that gives the place its name dates to the 12th century and is star shaped. Its main attractions are the beaches—though that wasn't our goal at the time. Consequently, the choice of location was a bit off target, but it served as a good place to rest for the day before we set off for Brindisi the next morning.
The weather was perfect for walking—quite cloudy and cool. Rain began to fall as we arrived in Brindisi, but we liked what we saw, so we decided to stay an extra day in the city.
The day dawned sunny—a stark contrast to the previous day—despite the wind. We set out to explore the city, famous for the Roman Appian Way and for serving as a gateway to Greece and the Adriatic Sea. The port, built within a natural inlet shaped like a stag's antler, remains vital today and serves as a stop for Mediterranean cruise ships. The Virgiliana Staircase, featuring Roman columns, is a popular photo spot for tourists. The Regina Margherita waterfront offers bars and restaurants for visitors. Across the channel, the Italian Sailors' Monument honors those who lost their lives in World War I. The “Castello a Mare” (or “Castello Rosso”) stands on Sant’Andrea Island at the entrance to the city's harbor.
We walked to the Castello Svevo but couldn't visit the interior, as it is Navy property; it had served as the residence of King Victor Emmanuel III during World War II. We passed through Piazza Duomo, home to other attractions such as the “Portico dei Templari” and the Provincial Archaeological Museum. There is even more to see in Brindisi, such as San Pietro degli Schiavoni—an archaeological site containing the remains of a Roman city, discovered during the construction of the Nuovo Teatro Giuseppe Verdi. There is also the Loggia Balsamo with its arches, the Cathedral of San Giovanni Battista, the church of San Giovanni al Sepolcro, and the church of Santa Maria del Casale. It was a perfect day to explore the city and make the most of our time.
The next morning, we were sorry to leave Brindisi. We paused briefly to admire the city one last time before setting off for Lecce. Since the distance was quite long, we took a train and met an Italian couple of hikers who were starting the trek to Santa Maria di Leuca. The couple was experienced and knew it wasn't possible to reach Lecce in a single stretch; that is why they, too, opted for a little help from the train—which, not coincidentally, was heading in the same direction we would have taken on foot.
Once in Lecce, we headed to our accommodation. This part calls for a bit of background. As soon as we decided to undertake this walk, we mentioned it to a very dear Italian friend of ours. We arranged to meet in Lecce, so we booked an Airbnb there for two days in advance. It happened to be the May 1st holiday—Labor Day. However, Lucio, our friend, had to cancel his trip due to family issues. So, we spent the two days in Lecce—which turned out to be a good thing, as there was so much to see in the city.
Upon arriving at our Airbnb, we discovered an incredible story. The owner’s name was Cristiano—a name that didn't strike us as particularly Italian. And, in fact, it wasn't. Cristiano is Brazilian and was overjoyed to realize he was hosting fellow Brazilians. He told us that he had been adopted by an Italian family as a child and that, around the same time, several other Brazilian children had also been adopted in the city. He had forgotten how to speak Portuguese, but that didn't stop us from talking about Brazil and his personal history. Today, he is a doctor, is married, and takes pride in being Italian Brazilian. He has visited Brazil once but did not go to his hometown. It was a truly successful story of international adoption.
Lecce is known as the "Florence of the South," boasting numerous Baroque historical monuments. Walking through the historic center feels like stepping back in time. The first place we visited was the ornate Basilica di Santa Croce, famous for the intricate carvings on its façade. Piazza del Duomo—one of Italy's most beautiful and enclosed squares—is home to the Lecce Cathedral and its imposing bell tower. The Church of Santa Chiara is another must-see stop. The ancient Roman amphitheater, dating back to the 2nd century, can be viewed from the outside, and the Column of Saint Oronzo stands in the same square; legend has it that the saint saved Lecce from the worst of the Black Death. The imposing Castle of Charles V—a former military fortress built by the Spanish emperor to protect the region—was also well worth a visit. Beyond that, exploring the city means finding the old and the new side by side. Lecce marks the beginning of the Salento region—the extreme south of Italy, known as the "heel of the boot."
After those two days, we headed to Martano, a small town with a fascinating historic center and a Greek (*Griko*) heritage. The next day, we set off for Otranto.
While we had been away from the coast in Lecce and Martano, arriving in Otranto brought us back to the Adriatic Sea. Otranto is located at the easternmost point of the Italian peninsula. It is a stunning city, famous for its medieval historic center, crystal-clear blue waters, and impressive Aragonese castle. Inside the cathedral, one can see a massive "Tree of Life" mosaic and a chapel housing the remains of the martyrs of 1480. We also took the opportunity to visit the town beach and prepare for the next day's walk to Vignacastrisi.
The walk was peaceful and filled with wildflowers. Shortly before reaching our destination, we came across a large supermarket—a lifesaver, given that Vignacastrisi was very small and had limited amenities. Aside from that, our accommodation was excellent and featured a lovely kitchen where we enjoyed a delicious dinner.
Our next stop was Tricase, marking the penultimate day of our walk. It was a day full of surprises. Wherever we looked, there were flowers—so many flowers! It was a beautiful day. We started out on a bike path, passed through a small town, caught sight of the sea, stopped to chat with a couple working their land, spotted a tiny nativity scene in the middle of nowhere, and watched Italian fighter jets flying in formation overhead. Upon arriving in Tricase, we visited the Church of Saint Michael the Archangel to give thanks for everything we had experienced so far; after all, our journey had begun at the Sanctuary of Saint Michael. We offered our thanks and asked for blessings for the final day of our walk. Tricase is a charming town. It is known for the Palazzo Gallone—a castle built by the family of the same name in the 16th century—and for a 700-year-old oak tree protected as a natural monument, the “Quercia Vallonea”. The harbor and the clear waters invited us to take a dip, but we had to press on for the final day of our journey.
This day was unlike any other. We woke up to rainy weather. We walked through the rain the entire time and arrived at our destination, Santa Maria di Leuca, completely soaked.
We stopped at the Sanctuary first. We passed through a gateway featuring two angels that blessed us and finally entered the massive cathedral, a site of pilgrimage. We were welcomed by a nun who stamped our pilgrim credentials, certifying that we had completed the Via Francigena there. After spending some time inside the Sanctuary, we stepped back out into the driving rain and wind. There, we left our walking sticks behind. It was a gesture of letting go—a sign that one cycle was ending and a new one was about to begin. We had finally walked the entire Via Francigena.
We lingered there for a while, watching the Adriatic Sea meet the Ionian Sea and crash against the rocks, surging into caves carved by time, until we realized we were, literally, at “Finibus Terrae”—the ends of the earth.
The rain poured down heavily on us. It felt as though it were washing away both body and soul. Afterward, in silence, we descended the 300 steps to the lower part of the town. Miraculously, the rain stopped and the sun broke through. A beautiful afternoon unfolded, allowing us to walk through Santa Maria di Leuca and admire the Adriatic and Ionian seas embracing one another. It was an unexpected and deeply moving arrival—one of those moments to cherish and never forget.
A new leg of the journey...
We woke up at 4:00 a.m. to catch a bus to Gallipoli and another to Zollino. From Zollino, we took a train to Lecce, and only then did we catch a train from Lecce to Bari.
When we arrived in Bari, the city was bustling; tourists and locals mingled together. We headed to our accommodation in the historic center, still wondering about all the commotion. Only later did we understand what was happening: it was the highlight of the festival of San Nicola (Saint Nicholas), the patron saint of Bari. A massive food fair lined the waterfront. The main site dedicated to the saint was stunning, featuring a gigantic structure adorned with countless lights. People gathered there to pay their respects and admire the beauty of the setting. However, the religious highlight took place at the Basilica of Saint Nicholas with the solemn celebration of the "Rite of the Holy Manna"—a ritual involving the extraction of the sacred “Manna”, a transparent liquid that seeps from the saint's relics. In both the Catholic and Orthodox faiths, this is considered a miracle, with the liquid emanating directly from the saint's bones. The celebrations concluded with a fireworks display.
We remained in Bari the following day. We literally got lost wandering the old town center; we saw the Castello Normanno-Svevo, visited Via delle Orecchiette—where women make and sell ear-shaped pasta—and strolled along the Lungomare Nazario Sauro, one of Italy’s largest and most beautiful seaside promenades. All in all, in two and a half days, we managed to see the best the city had to offer. However, we needed to figure out the logistics for the ferry crossing to Albania, our next destination.
At the port, we were told we had to go find someone named "Isabel" on a "GSA" bus to print the tickets we had bought online. Since we were unfamiliar with port bureaucracy, we followed the instructions to the letter. We arrived at a spot quite far from the actual boarding area. At the shipping company’s ticket counter, they told us they couldn't print the tickets yet; printing would only be possible the following day—the day of the trip. That was when we realized why it’s recommended to arrive four or five hours before departure. Bureaucracy...
On the day of the trip, we spent the time walking around Bari before returning to the counter to print our tickets; the staff member reiterated that we needed to be at the boarding area by 5:00 PM, even though the ferry wasn't leaving until 8:30 PM. We arrived ahead of schedule, which turned out to be the best decision, as the boarding process was incredibly slow. We had to wait in line while a massive amount of luggage belonging to Albanians returning home laden with purchases was processed. We spent two long hours queuing just to reach immigration. To our surprise, the vessel was more like a proper ship than the ferries we were used to; it featured a lovely restaurant, a bar, a swimming pool, and both interior and exterior cabins. We stayed in one of the cabins. The ship set sail, and we slept through the journey to Durrës, which took all night. Albania – Balkan Peninsula...
The ferry docked around 7:00 AM. It was funny waking up, having coffee right there in the cabin, and then—when we stepped out—realizing the city buildings were right next to the ferry’s windows. We hadn't seen the ship dock, hence our surprise. We waited for permission to disembark at the port of Durrës.
Durrës is Albania's second-largest city and its main port. It is located 33 km from Tirana, the country's capital. Although it is a beautiful city with tourist attractions, we decided to head straight to Tirana. At first, we weren't sure how to get to the bus terminal or which of the overpasses facing the port would take us there, but a quick question to a young man passing by cleared everything up. We arrived at an area with just a few buses and vans. But first, we needed to exchange money; since the country wasn't yet part of the European Union, the Lek was the local currency. After that, the challenge was figuring out where to catch the bus to Tirana. Once again, simply asking a woman on the street did the trick; she walked us right to the transport bound for the capital. But a bit of explanation is needed here.
Intercity buses in Albania are privately owned. Therefore, when traveling from one city to another, you must go to the terminal, sometimes far from the city center, and see which bus, minibus, or van will be departing for your desired location. The catch is that the vehicle only leaves when it is full. Therefore, you can't rely on the schedules; you must be lucky enough to arrive, have transportation, a place to sit, and enough passengers for it to depart. And that's what happened. We were lucky enough to get a seat and wait until the bus was full of passengers before leaving. Two young women who were near us caught our attention. I offered to carry their backpacks, but they didn't accept the offer. I didn't insist because I didn't know the local custom. Finally, we arrived at the terminal.
At the terminal, we got lost, and the only way was to ask how to get to the center. We turned to the two young women who were near us, and they said they were also going to the city center. We went with them to a city bus, and as a courtesy, they even paid for our ticket. We chatted and, coincidentally, discovered that one of them was named Vera. The other was from Berat, a city we intended to visit. As a result, we became friends and learned a lot about the country during our stay in Albania. We still talk to each other via WhatsApp.
Tirana surprised us. The city is known for its mix of Ottoman, Fascist, and Communist era architecture with modern buildings. Skanderbeg Square and the statue of this national hero, the Et'hem Bey Mosque, and the Clock Tower are right in the heart of the city.
The Orthodox church, although not one of the most visited tourist attractions, is worth seeing. The National History Museum showcases history from prehistory to the communist dictatorship and the anti-communist revolts of the 1990s. Bunk'Art 2 is also a fascinating museum. It's located in an old underground nuclear bunker and shows the history of surveillance and the secret police of the communist regime. It is worth noting that Albania has approximately 200,000 bunkers built in the 1960s and 1980s by the then communist leader Enver Hoxha, who feared invasions by NATO, the Soviet Union, or neighboring countries.
The liveliest neighborhood, with bars, modern cafes, and excellent restaurants, is Blloku, not far from the center. Another interesting attraction is the Pyramid, built in 1988 in honor of the communist leader and dictator, and now transformed into a center for technology, innovation, and culture. We climbed the stairs of its facade to appreciate the view of the city.
Since the country closed its borders during the communist dictatorship, from 1945 to 1991, it is still possible to see many traces of that dark time, when people were watched by the oppressive regime. Today, it is a democratic country that is seeking entry into the European Union, which seems to be planned for 2028. To be confirmed.
The northern part of Albania is where the Albanian Alps are located. There are several national parks, lakes, turquoise rivers, and gorges. We wanted to visit Valbona National Park, the birthplace of an Albanian friend, from whom her name "Valbona" or "Bona" (for close friends) comes.
We were lucky to be on the first van to Berat. Berat is a historic city, known as the "City of a Thousand Windows" for the Ottoman architecture of the Mangalem neighborhood, where the houses on the hillside seem to lean against each other, and the aligned windows seem to gaze at each other. It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and is in the southern part of the country.
As soon as we arrived, we were impressed by the beauty of the city. We visited the Gorica neighborhood, which is on the opposite side from Mangalem and across the Osum River. The bridge that connects the two sides also connects Christian and Muslim cultures, which still coexist peacefully today. We visited Berat Castle (Kalaja), a 4th-century BC fortress that is still inhabited by locals and has beautiful views. We walked around the complex for two and a half hours and were moved when we entered an Orthodox church at the highest point of the mountain.
Despite its age, the city boasts a modern promenade—Boulevard Republika—which is a great spot for lunch, dinner, or a coffee. However, some prefer higher ground, happily navigating the staircases and narrow alleys of the Mangalem district to enjoy an aperitif, coffee, or lunch while taking in an incredible view of the city.
It was time to leave Berat and head to Sarandë, the main city of the Albanian Riviera. The city is famous for its crystal-clear Ionian Sea waters, vibrant nightlife, and proximity to Corfu, Greece. The waterfront is home to bars, restaurants, shops, and large hotels. All in all, Sarandë is a fantastic city to enjoy and serves as a base for visiting local beaches and Butrint National Park, renowned for its ancient ruins.
In Sarandë, we took advantage of the hot, sunny days to hit the beach and explore the spectacular beaches of Ksamil, which is nearby and easily accessible by bus. We also visited Gjirokastër, another historic city and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The drive through the mountains is stunning. The old town of Gjirokastër sits high up; it was a long climb to the Castle—a massive hilltop fortress featuring weapons museums and valley views. The streets are cobblestoned, the houses are made of stone, and the museum is in the house where dictator Enver Hoxha was born. Halfway between Sarandë and Gjirokastër lies the Blue Eye, another tourist attraction. The Blue Eye is a spring of striking blue water and impressive beauty. On the bus ride back to Sarandë, the driver stopped to pick up visitors from the Blue Eye. However, the number of passengers boarding exceeded the number who had originally gotten off there. Without hesitation, the driver accommodated all the tourists on small stools in the bus aisle. It was fun. Once again, the kindness of the Albanian people was evident.
We spent ten very enjoyable days in Albania before heading to Corfu, which was just an hour-and-a-half ferry ride away. In fact, you can see part of the Greek island from Albania, and vice versa.
Over in Corfu, Greece...
The island of Corfu, lapped by the Ionian Sea, lies off the northwest coast of Greece. Beyond its idyllic beaches, it features rugged mountains. Having been under Venetian, French, and British rule before uniting with Greece, the island developed a hybrid culture—and its town architecture reflects this blend. Corfu Town, the island's largest, is a UNESCO World Heritage site. It is flanked by two grand palaces: Saint George and Saint Michael. The streets are winding alleys, and the town features French-style arcades. A popular excursion for visitors to Corfu is the 19th-century Achilleion Palace, built for Empress Elisabeth of Austria and surrounded by lush gardens.
We decided to stay in the town for three days to explore and celebrate another of Vera’s birthdays. This gave us time to visit every corner of the historic center and stroll along the Liston and Spianada Square—an elegant, French-style promenade lined with cafés and restaurants. We also visited the Church of Saint Spyridon, an Orthodox church housing the Saint's remains within a double sarcophagus. The larger of the two—made of wood with a silver-leaf finish—encases the smaller one. The inner sarcophagus is lined with red velvet and features a removable bottom to facilitate changing the Saint's slippers; legend has it that, inexplicably, these slippers wear out, tear, and show signs of use as the months go by.
During the day, the town teems with both overnight visitors and day-trippers. At night, the restaurants and bars fill up, and the city takes on a festive atmosphere. It was in this setting that we celebrated the birthday. We enjoyed a lovely dinner accompanied by regional white wine and kumquat liqueur—a local specialty sold all over the island of Corfu.
It was time to explore more of the island. We set off for Kassiopi, in the north of Corfu. The 36-kilometer journey took over an hour along a narrow, winding road, with the blue sea and sky as a backdrop. Tourists hopped on and off the bus to visit the area's beaches.
Barbati lies on the route between Corfu Town and Kassiopi. It is a stunning beach featuring white pebbles and green olive trees in the background. Finally, we arrived in Kassiopi, a charming village with a small, bustling harbor, restaurants, bars, and pebble beaches lapped by clear waters. From the ruins of a Byzantine castle on the hill above the town, the panoramic view of the coast is breathtaking. From Kassiopi, we could see the coast of Albania and even spot dolphins playing offshore.
Kassiopi is a lively village, bustling with the coming and going of tourists—both those staying overnight and day-trippers visiting for a quick look. On our first day, we visited Bataria, Kanoni, Pipitou, and Kalamionas beaches; all were idyllic spots with white pebbles and crystal-clear turquoise waters—perfect for swimming and snorkeling.
After spending three days enjoying that paradise, we headed to Sidari—still in the north, but now on the western side of the island. Sidari is a major tourist destination, featuring numerous hotels and long, sandy beaches. It is famous for its lively nightlife, restaurants, bars, and English-style pubs. However, we preferred a quieter spot away from the bustle, choosing instead to spend the day swimming and exploring the beaches, the Canal d’Amour, and the cliffs.
The Canal d'Amour is a geological formation featuring sandstone cliffs and narrow sea channels. Legend has it that swimming through the channel brings true love, and that couples who swim there together will live happily ever after. We found it beautiful and romantic to look at but not particularly inviting for a swim. We preferred a beach a little further along—Apotripiti—situated at the foot of a beautiful, quieter cliff. In fact, the more central beaches consist of vast, crowded stretches of sand offering pedal boat rentals, floats, and banana boat rides—ideal for families and children.
Our next stop was Paleokastritsa, a picturesque region also lapped by crystal-clear blue waters, featuring imposing cliffs and a hilltop monastery. The area boasts several beaches, making it hard to pick the most beautiful ones. Agios Spiridon, Agios Petros, and Akrotiri are the more central beaches and tend to get quite busy, but visiting them and swimming in their calm waters was well worth it. La Grotta Bar is a famous spot right by the rocky shoreline, where people have fun jumping and swimming in the transparent water. The only downside is the trek up and down the access stairs. One day, we decided to venture a bit further afield. We hiked to Liapades Beach, set in a picturesque landscape surrounded by cliffs and coves. There was certainly no shortage of paradise-like beaches in the region.
We also took the opportunity to visit Lakones. We hiked up an endless incline. Since we love exploring trails, we spotted signs for shortcuts and didn't hesitate. We followed them to reach the small village perched on a cliff. The fabulous view made the grueling climb worth it. Going down, of course, is a breeze... We walked down the road used by cars, continuing to enjoy the scenery every step of the way.
Another attraction is the Monastery of the Virgin Mary, a 13th-century Byzantine sanctuary that is still active. Situated atop a hill, it offers spectacular sea views and beautiful gardens. It also houses a small chapel and a museum displaying sacred books, Byzantine relics, and antique vestments, while showcasing the olive oil production once carried out by the monks.
It had been twelve days of sun, beach, and plenty of walking. It was time to leave the island, and our next destination was Naples, Italy.
Off to Naples...
Anyone who knows Naples will understand our first impression of the city. After a month and a half-spent hiking and visiting the paradise-like beaches of Albania and Corfu, we arrived in Naples' historic center. Between you and me, it was a shock! That’s right—a shock! The sheer chaos—from restaurants vying for customers to motorbikes and scooters darting in front of pedestrians, and tourists and tour groups scrambling for seats in pizzerias—left us feeling dizzy.
That day, we decided to experience the most chaotic side of Naples. We visited the Duomo, the Church of San Lorenzo, the Underground City, and Via dei Tribunali; we walked through Spaccanapoli; and finally, we found some peace strolling along the waterfront (“Lungomare”) to the “Castello dell’Ovo”, enjoying views of the Gulf of Naples and Mount Vesuvius. Afterwards, we passed by Piazza del Plebiscito, the Palazzo Reale, Gran Caffè Gambrinus, and Galleria Umberto I. We took the metro to Vomero, where we were staying. The neighborhood offers a contrast to the historic center. It was certainly a very busy day. All that was left to do was relax with some wine and Neapolitan pizza.
Of the three days we were spending in the city, we chose the second one to visit Pompeii. We bought tickets for the 9:00 AM slot. We set off early and headed to the station to catch a Circumvesuviana line train. This is the same train that runs to Sorrento, another popular tourist destination. Upon arriving at the station, we saw that the entrance to the Circumvesuviana line was crowded—though what train or subway station isn't crowded during rush hour? A staff member was directing people to form an orderly queue. Four lines formed in the waiting area. Ours was the most comfortable because there was seating, but it ended up being the last line to board the train—at least in theory; in practice, everyone bunched up at the doors the moment they opened.
After the chaotic boarding process and on a train packed with people, the doors closed. Suddenly, the power went out. The air conditioning stopped working, the train doors wouldn't open, and people—clinging to one another—began to feel unwell. Fear, panic, and the heat heightened the agitation. A man with two children had a panic attack, while a woman started screaming and pressing the intercom button, begging for the doors to be opened. A tragedy was narrowly averted. It’s hard to say exactly how long it lasted, but after a few minutes, the lights came back on and the doors opened. Some people got off and gave up on the trip. Others, unaware of what had happened, arrived. The staff member who had organized the lines started running, and everyone else ran too. An announcement over the loudspeaker instructed everyone to move to the other platform, as another train was coming. So, off we all went. It was the same chaotic scramble to board the next train—which was the same size, meaning it wasn't big enough to carry the crowd.
The doors closed, and we moved off. Slowly. People were practically hugging one another. It was a total sardine can. At every stop, more people got on than got off. At the fifth stop, the train halted again. There was a problem with the doors; the lights went out, the air conditioning stopped working, and things stayed that way for a few minutes. It was stifling all over again! When the doors finally opened, we decided to get off. Reaching the last car, we saw that some people had likely given up, leaving some space near the door. We decided to get on. But once again, the lights went out, the air conditioning failed, people started cursing, and the heat took over the train. Finally, the doors opened, and an announcement came over the loudspeaker telling us to go to another platform because a different train was coming. That train arrived packed—and just as old as the previous two that had broken down. We gave up. Others did too. We headed back toward Naples and, along with a Japanese couple, decided to go to the ticket counters for Pompeii and the train to ask for a refund. After all, none of it had been cheap. We were told it wasn't their problem. Frustrated, we turned back and decided to explore a bit more of the city.
That day, we decided to walk back to our accommodation. We climbed the 480 steps of the staircase leading to the top of the hill where the Vomero district is located. We saw the city from above and got to know the neighborhood better; it was quite different from the chaotic city center.
We still had one day left. We had come to terms with the fact that our visit to Pompeii hadn't worked out. We had grown accustomed to the city's chaos, and there was still more to see. We headed straight for the Quartier Spagnoli. There, Maradona is king, saint, and hero. He was everywhere we looked: on clothing, on merchandise, on flags, painted on walls, and in restaurants.
Afterwards, we went for a walk along Via Toledo, a bustling street lined with shops, bars, snack bars, and fast-food joints. We took the opportunity to sample some local specialties before heading to Via Chiaia, an elegant area. We still had to see the Toledo metro station, voted the most beautiful in Europe. And so, we reached the end of this saga. Ultimately, visiting Naples was worth it. Naples is chaotic and vibrant, yet it is a place that simply must be seen. Around every corner, we found a surprise—a hidden bar or restaurant, or a way of life quite different from what we had previously seen in Italy.
Back to Rome and Lisbon…
It was a Sunday, and we set off early to catch a train to Rome. It turned out to be an entertaining journey. At each station, groups of young people would board, seemingly heading to the beach. They would wander through the train and sit down, even though they didn't have tickets. At one point, a train attendant kicked one group off. The others, acting quickly, moved to different carriages. After a heated argument and a brief, unscheduled stop at a random station, the train continued—though not without another group sneaking aboard. We traveled all the way to the small town that was their destination. Since it was a regional train, a relatively short trip ended up taking a long time. Finally, we arrived in Rome and settled into an Airbnb in San Giovanni—a pleasant neighborhood not too far from Termini station. Having visited Rome before, we decided to revisit a few favorite spots and explore the area around our neighborhood.
The Basilica of St. John Lateran (Basilica di San Giovanni in Laterano) is the cathedral of the Diocese of Rome and the official seat of the Pope in his capacity as the Bishop of Rome. That day, the area in front of the cathedral was cordoned off, and nearby streets were closed to traffic. We found out the reason later. There was a grand procession—featuring many priests, nuns, and religious brotherhoods—that we watched from our bedroom window. It was a beautiful celebration. Afterward, all the participants returned along the same route, down the same avenue. We were observing the activity when we spotted a group of priests from the Order of Santiago de Compostela; we recognized them by their cross. One of them looked our way, and a brief conversation revealed he was Brazilian. He invited us to visit the small church of San Benedetto di Trastevere. We went there the next day, but it was closed. In fact, it is a small medieval chapel that, according to tradition, was built over an ancient noble home—the very place where Saint Benedict lived for a few years in the late 5th century.
The heat was intense and the city was teeming with tourists, yet we still walked around and explored. No matter how many times we visit, there is always more to see in Rome. Early the next morning, we walked to Termini Station to catch the bus to the airport. There, we bade farewell to beautiful Italy and to the memories of the delightful moments we had enjoyed throughout our stay.
We arrived in Lisbon and headed straight to our accommodation, knowing our friend Ana Sofia would be waiting for us. It was time to settle in: doing laundry, buying little gifts, enjoying wonderful afternoons and evenings with friends, visiting the Book Fair and the “Feira da Ladra” (flea market), celebrating the Popular Saints festivals with more friends, and witnessing the Saint Anthony procession—always a moving experience. Finally, we returned home, certain that our 63-day journey had been unforgettable and would remain etched in our memories forever.