White hot — Local Paddo

Jumping into the Adriatic Sea on a blistering Puglia day is like receiving a slap across the face. A sharp one. “Ouch,” shrieks my daughter, who has taken the plunge into the deep blue sea from the platform we have reached after descending from the clifftop. “She’s cold. I’m getting out.”

I am no braver, managing to lower myself a few steps into the choppy sea before quickly scrambling back up on to the hot platform. Refreshing water is one thing. But today, the challenge is not accepted.

If we had been braver, we might have made the short swim around the point to Grotta Azzurra, an underwater cave secreted in the sheer rock face that rises abruptly from the sea. Apparently it is spectacular.

180 steps to the Adriatic Sea from Hotel Piccolo Mondo

Yet for us, our hotel’s huge sapphire pool, with its lofty location and views to eternity, is just as fine. So we head back up the 180 winding, rocky steps for a few hours sunning ourselves, an Aperol Spritz in my hand, an iced espresso in my daughter’s. A relaxing holiday is the one we were seeking; not the adventure variety.

We are in Castro, on Puglia’s southern coastline, the very bottom of the heel of the Boot. Indeed we are so far south the next stop is Albania, 80km east across this tract of the Adriatic and visible, apparently, on clear days; today, it’s a shadow if viewed through squinted eyes.

We have come to Puglia after a fortnight wandering through Italy, from the Cinque Terre in the far northwest, to the bustling streets of Rome, and beautiful places in between. But it is here we have come to relax. Puglia is, after all, where Italians come for a beach holiday.

“What’s Puglia like?” asks everyone when we return, for this steamy southern peninsula with its azure coves and whitewashed cliff-hugging towns seems to be on everyone’s travel wish list. Can’t afford Positano? (Who can?) Then try Puglia. That seems to be the motto.

In some ways, Puglia feels like not being in Italy at all. While the cities and towns of the Italian north are grand and lavish, with thousand-year-old domes, grandiose spires and imposing pastel villas stuffed with Renaissance art, Puglia’s coastal towns feel positively islander — Greek or Spanish islander, that is, only with the most delicious Italian food (spaghetti vongole, fried fish, gelato with every meal).

Huddled on to rocky outcrops facing the sea are villages of box-like houses that blend so seamlessly into the landscape they look like they have been sculpted from the cliffs themselves, and probably have been. Built for long, hot, humid summers, these are tough little towns whose beauty comes not from their grandeur but from their timeless collective stance against the elements. We’ll all huddle here together, the buildings seem to say, basking under burning midday sun. I must say, I quite love them.

We are staying at Piccolo Mondo, a glorious bougainvillea-draped hotel that revels in its clifftop location. On breezier days, the gentle winds sweep off the sea to keep the temperature bearable (the thermometer sits in the high-30Cs for the duration of our stay).

The hotel is a 10-minute walk from Castro’s old town, where the 10th-century Castello Aragonese dominates the ridge line with its august walls and turrets. Look up from the Castro seaside to see it shining down on the marina, almost like a cartoon fortress. There’s an archeological museum you can visit, featuring artefacts from various periods in the area’s history, which dates back to pre-Roman times.

But most visitors come for the marina that bustles with life and activity from pre-dawn to after dusk. Locals and tourists alike arrive to cool down in the crystal waters that ebb into the two natural coves that sit on the lee side of the marina.

Bring a towel to lie in the sun between refreshing dips; the water is warmer here than it is around on the cliff side of town, and so clear you can see the dashing tropical fish that dart around your body as you swim. It’s magical.

Early morning swims, before the heat gets punishing, are best, followed by espressos at one of the marina cafes that are filled with chattering, leathery locals dining in bathing suits.

A few minutes' drive on the other side of our hotel is Santa Cesarea Terme, one of Puglia’s more famous towns. Cliff hugging and scenic, the town is renowned for its thermal baths, but its marina, lined with umbrellas and served by a trattoria that looks out over a wild sea, is the star.

At night, Puglia’s towns come alive. Italians emerge from siesta for a late dinner scented with sizzling garlic taken under soft skies that gently turn silver around 9pm. Everyone comes out to feast, each night offering a variation of fish, tomato and pasta.

At Castro marina, also find salty fried fish, prawns and calamari at an unpretentious beachside fish café. The food is so affordable and so good. Expect to pay €15 for spaghetti vongole, €5 for a glass of the delicious local rosé, €3 for gelato.

Puglia is a large region with dozens of striking towns — Polignano a Mare, Monopoli, Ostuni, Lecce, Alberobello, Locorotondo among them. We start with good intentions of driving to one a day to see them all. But the distances are far and the highway unpleasant.

Far nicer to stay in Castro, swimming, eating and living life like Italians. Even if there’s much to see, slowing down, staying in and taking life slowly seems part of the deal. It’s the Italian way and we’re happy to dive into it.