Aside from the main street lined with shops selling souvenirs and local crafts, the entire trulli area was mostly deserted. Walking past one house, a bicycle propped against its front, we glanced toward its open door. A man stepped out, beckoning us inside. Va bene?” I asked, still not sure he was motioning us into his home. “Sí!”
The interior was cool and spotless. A woman and a boy about eight sat on a couch. We smiled at each other. The man proudly showed us around, explaining that they used to live here, but don’t anymore. Still, they own it and come during the day to keep it open for tourists. It was a priceless glimpse into life inside a trullo.
Equipped with a fully functioning kitchen and modern bathroom, the house also had a bedroom off to the side of the living room/dining room. I was surprised at how roomy it really was.
I took their pictures and the man asked if we could send him copies. “Certo!” I replied. He wrote out his name and address. I was almost not surprised that his name was Pasquale. (How many are we up to, now?) They invited us to sit on the couch with them awhile, so we did. The woman told me they were the boy’s grandparents, and it was obvious all three of them were proud of this unique home.
Later in the day, we came upon another trullo also open for visitors. This one had a bowl set out for donations, if you chose to toss a few coins in. We did.
Pasquale hadn’t asked for a thing, other than copies of the pictures, but we also left him a few Euro. And, yes, we sent him the pictures of his sweet family.