Now that I have new definitions for the words “Amazing” and “Astonishing,” it’s time to redefine “Awesome.” I overuse the word “awesome,” and almost never use it in the sense that whatever I am describing creates a sense of awe. However, Alberobello and its strange little trulli can accurately be described as awesome. And weird. But mostly awesome.
Arriving in Alberobello is, just like arriving in so many other towns, relatively unremarkable. But after a 15 minute walk away from the train station up and over a hill, suddenly you are presented with a strange little village of conical stone huts with symbols, some Christian, some magical, on their pointy roofs. It was surreal. Not least of all because we had the place nearly to ourselves, because of the February-ness and also because it was depressingly dreary. But nevertheless, we persevered through the lanes and avenues exclaiming over and over about how strange it all was:
The ridiculous overabundance of rocks in the landscape gives some sense to the little stone huts, and perhaps surprisingly, considering how optimized for tourism the place was (there was a surprisingly slick tourist infrastructure, apparently Alberobello is extremely popular especially with German and Japanese tourists), apparently most of the trulli are still lived in, by regular people. This one was for sale:
In the town most of the trulli are white with gray roofs, but there are a few that are just stone. On the train ride there we would watch out the window for these huts dotting the fields, every once in awhile one would pop up, reinforcing the otherworldliness of the landscape. It was awesome.