The Rough Guide To Puglia says ‘tourists give Taranto a wide berth’. Lonely Planet, meanwhile, has it that the city is ‘very much not on the tourist trail’.
And yet I’m hearing that Taranto is nothing like this. Could it actually be that most mythical of things – a glorious, historic Italian city, right on the dazzling blue Med, almost untouched by global tourism?
To be honest, first impressions aren’t great. I’ve picked up a hire car at Bari (which has direct flights from the UK) and driven 80 minutes across Puglia (the boot-heel of Italy) – and am now surrounded by ugly steelworks and brawny naval bases.
But then I pierce the industrial belt which defends Taranto like a moat and I gaze about its neo-classical boulevards – I’m astonished, gladdened and ready for a mango gelato by the sea.
And the rumours about a lack of tourists are completely right – I am the only non-Italian around.
Spanning the ages: Sean Thomas travels to Taranto, pictured, a ‘wonderfully forgotten basement of Italy’
Taranto is home to an Aragonese fort (pictured) that is linked to the rest of the city by a bridge
Historically, Taranto – with its linked islets facing lagoons and sea – dates back to the Spartans in the 8th Century BC. At its classical peak it boasted 300,000 citizens.
The Tarantella dance comes from the city. In fact, many things come from Taranto – and for proof of this I head to its brilliantly refurbished museum, MArTA, which sits on a stately 19th Century square replete with chic cafes, cheerful trattorias and happy Tarantinos, who are notably friendly, even by Italian standards. The museum boasts multiple marvels, including a famous collection of classical jewellery.
For the next few days I wander Taranto, feeling like a pioneer. I sip macchiato atop the Aragonese water-forts. I spend hours in the ‘old town island’, exploring its hidden snickets, slumbering churches and listening to men in string vests contentedly arguing across alleys hung with scented laundry.
Sean visits the city’s museum, MArTA, which boasts ‘multiple marvels’, including a famous collection of classical jewellery
Sean spends hours in the ‘old town island’, exploring its hidden snickets
Above, ‘mind-blowing’ Castel del Monte, which is a couple of hours’ drive from Taranto
Then I get caught in a terrific rainstorm and duck into the nearest restaurant. I am entirely bedraggled – basically a disgrace. The head waiter looks at me, smiles and says: ‘You need food. And wine.’ He laughs. ‘Don’t worry, it is not expensive.’ He’s right. My decent bottle of white costs just €6, while the grilled red mullet is excellent.
And as I digest my finely spontaneous dinner I consider my next move in this wonderfully forgotten basement of Italy.
Maybe I shall head north to Altamura, a perfectly preserved medieval town reputedly with the world’s best focaccia, a magnificent white-stone cathedral and 600-year-old bakeries in Byzanto-Arab alleyways. Or maybe I will head east and check out Castel del Monte, a mind-blowing octagonal castle from the 12th Century, allegedly built by Frederick II, Holy Roman Emperor, in a bid to commune with occult forces.
For now I am going to sit here – happily tipsy – because Taranto is brilliant. It is like Venice without the cruise boats, like Naples with even more ghosts. It is like the Italy of your dreams, before the tour buses came.