You can cycle at your own pace and it definitely makes up for the gluttony
REMOVE just one stone in the conical roof above my head, and the whole house will collapse on me.
I’m staying in a fairytale — almost Smurf — medieval house which was designed to dismantle in seconds . . . to hide it from the taxman. Oh, those canny Italians.
Now, though, the pretty trulli homes of Alberobello, Apulia, are in a Unesco World Heritage site, and I’m lucky enough to be staying in this pretty slice of history.
It’s just one stop on my cycling tour of Puglia, on the heel of boot-shaped Italy.
With more olive trees in this farming region than Italians in Italy, it’s no wonder olive oil is a common theme on my trip.
I visit two masserias, huge fortified country farms built to defend the olive crops. I bathe in it, moisturise with it, sniff it, munch the olives themselves on biscuits and I’m even asked to fall in love with them.