While I was there, aside from seeing all the interesting buildings, cathedrals, and museums, and taking a short boat cruise around the Adriatic, I did of course investigate some local pubs and breweries.

On the day of my arrival, I was first stranded at Rome Fiumicino Airport thanks to my KLM flight arriving so late that I missed my Alitalia connection to Bari. Fortunately I got on the next flight, which was four hours later and the last one of the day. So having all this time to kill, as well as needing a drink by this time, I immediately searched for somewhere I could get either a beer or a cocktail. Somehow, through the mist of long queues of disgruntled passengers, I spotted a row of craft beer taps and immediately headed over to Doppio Malto. Once I was redirected from the restaurant side over to the bar side, I perused the menu and finally asked the young man behind the bar that fatal question: “What do you have that’s pale and hoppy?" And of course he had no idea what I meant. So I decided on the only appropriately hoppy choice that wasn’t super-powered, as I still had the task ahead of me of navigating myself late at night from Bari Airport to my apartment in Bari Vecchia.

I ended up ordering a pint of Summer IPA (3.8% ABV, Doppio Malto, Erba, Italy), described as a session IPA with medium bitterness, citrus character, and orange zest. After I paid the man I was given a very long paper receipt, at which point he headed off to attend to the restaurant side. I found a tall table to sit at not far from the bar, and I waited. And I waited. I finally noticed that people were walking up to the bar and giving their mile-long receipts to the barmaid, who would take a pen and wipe it lengthwise down the receipt, and then she would give the receipt back, at which point she would go over to the taps to pour the pint for the customer.

So not trusting any of the violently moving, frowning, and rude Italian humans who were jostling around me, I picked up my heavy backpack, handbag, and jacket, and I took my receipt over to the bar where I waited for her attention. She finally came over to me, wiped my receipt with the pen, and walked away. I carried my shit back to my table before anybody else could grab it, and I waited. And waited. I finally realised she had been serving people right away, but not me. What was it? Because I was older? Because my hair is multicoloured? Because I had an American accent? So I stared at her, trying to get her attention. She finally saw me and sheepishly asked if it was a Small or a Large. A Large, I said . And then she got distracted again. After a second try for her attention, she finally poured my pint and apologised for the delay. I mean, it was really busy, and she apologised. At this point of exhaustion, I was so ridiculously easy to please.

Anyway, my pint, described as “lazy and citrusy" on the menu, was perfectly acceptable: not exactly exciting, but it did the job. There were some stronger offerings that looked interesting, including a strong spiced ginger ale, a triple honey IPA, a black Imperial IPA, an ESB, a weiss beer, etc. Although there are quite a few other Doppio Malto restaurants in and around Rome, there are two actual breweries: one in Erba in Lombardy and one in Iglesias on the island of Sardinia.

On my first day in Bari, after taking a 90-minute cruise along the Adriatic coast on a small open boat--with three other women, a female pilot, and a bottle of Chardonnay--I walked all around Old Town and finally ended up by the sea again, at La Ciclatera Sotto Il Mar.

I waited against the side of the building until I could be seated at an outside table. As there were only two draft beers available, I chose the lighter option. My pint of Hoegaarden Blanche (4.9% ABV, Brewery Hoegaarden Brewery, Hoegaarden, Belgium) was pleasant enough, considering I was in a coastal bar in southern Italy, where most of the customers were drinking cocktails, so what should I expect?

On the final day of my stay I returned to this LGBT-friendly bar, this time to have a cocktail. I waited only a minute for a table over next to the wall looking out to the Adriatic. After perusing the cocktail menu I ordered a margarita, because, well, why not? And it was a quality margarita, tastefully done with salt on one half of the rim and no salt on the other half, and made with a decent tequila, Triple Sec, two kinds of lime, and agave. I sat there with an exquisite feeling of contentment, with my view of the Adriatic Sea, the harbour with little boats similar to the one I rode in, and the magnificent palm trees which reminded me that yes, this was a southern European city with a Mediterranean climate. I mean, sometimes I really miss my home town of Long Beach. During all the years I lived there I had such little appreciation for what it offered. And now I have cold and rain and stone houses and cloudy skies and snow…

The food menu of La Ciclatera looks really tempting, featuring bistro-sized plates of fresh seafood, toasted sandwiches, tapas, bread and butter with anchovies, hummus, etc. I didn’t actually see the inside restaurant, but there is one for cold or inclement days. But for most of the year, the harbourside patio is definitely the place to be.

On another evening after enjoying a nice sea bass sandwich, also al fresco, I decided to check out another brewery. I took off to the edge of Bari Vecchia, walking up and down Via Boemondo in search of the street that was supposed to lead to BurBeero. On this particular evening I was obviously not the only person who was confused, as there were several other groups of people searching for particular venues and street numbers and not having any success in their quests. After I finally found the back (and locked) door to the brewery, I figured out my way around the block to the front door, where I spotted several tables out on the pavement. I went inside to the bar where I found four craft beer options, three which were really strong and dark. So I ordered a pint of the MalaRipe Blonde (4.9% ABV, Birrificio MalaRipe, Campomaggio MC, Italy) and took it out front to a pavement table, adjacent to another table where a friendly young man was seated. Once again my pint was all right, particularly for a Helles style beer, but being very low in bitterness it wasn’t the style I’d normally drink. As opposed to the Belgian brewery Hoegaarden, Birrificio MalaRipe is fairly recent, having started in 2014, and still referring to itself as “unfamous", which is interesting.

I would like to have returned to BurBeero on another night, perhaps when it had a few more beers, but I just didn’t have time. And for future reference, they serve light bites including pasta, chicken, paninis, and pizzas.

On one of my outings I chatted with a bar owner and fellow IPA lover who recommended what he considered to be the best brewery in Bari. Seeing as how the place was only a two-minute walk from my apartment in Bari Vecchia, I decided I definitely had to try it. As the place is basically a restaurant which doesn’t open until 7pm, I figured I needed to find a place for dinner anyway, so I’d check it out the next evening.

I left my apartment and made my way to Lo Svevo, where several twisty lanes make a T junction with an even smaller lane. Once again I seated myself outside at a table in front of the restaurant. To drink I had a choice of four Lo Svevo beers: an IPA, an amber, and I can’t recall the other two because my server immediately took away the stand-up beer menu as soon as I ordered. I was impressed that my IPA (6.3% ABV, Birrificio Svevo, Bari, Italy) came in a proper old-fashioned Imperial pint glass, because I haven’t actually seen one of these glasses for a few years. And my IPA, although similar to the other IPA-style beers I’ve had here, was probably the best of the bunch. At this point I had found that the Puglia IPAs taste a bit like pilsners, probably because of the malts used. But this IPA was quite interesting, I must say, even though I figured I’d never be able to find out what hops had actually been used.

For dinner my Orecchiette Pomodoro was quite nice, and of course even though it appeared to be a sensibly conservative amount, I could still only eat half of it. ( I’m pretty much a food wimp these days, anyway, so I can only manage smaller quantities than the average person.)

It was a pleasantly cool night; but although there were a few tables inside, everybody here and at the neighbouring bars and restaurants were enjoying their meals and drinks al fresco. That just seemed to be the Bari way, which I found very appealing. (I mean, things may be different in December and January, but who knows?) I also noticed that there was a mixture of customers--all younger than me, of course, but I’m used to that by now. They were mostly Italian, but I did hear a woman speaking in English to two men who were either American or British. And the two young employees who were taking a break next to me were speaking German.

Overall it was a thoroughly enjoyable experience, and the music that played the entire time I was there was blues. Now, how cool is that?

The next day, Friday, it was a very pleasant and sunny noontime, and I had nothing in particular planned for the afternoon. So I checked out Piazza Mercantile for a place to have a light lunch. Strolling past the rather phallic-looking Column of Shame, I then veered off into a quiet side lane where several restaurants advertised their menus. At La Bitta Porto Sicuro I noticed a small craft beer list which naturally attracted me. So I seated myself at one of the outside tables and ordered a pint of Bajadera IPA (5.6% ABV, Birra Vertiga, Rossano Veneto, Italy). Described as an American-style IPA, this was my obvious choice, as the other options were Guinness Stout, a Belgian red ale, a blanche, and a pilsner. My IPA was hopped with Pearls, Citra Cryo, Mosaic Cryo, and Centennial, and the malts used were Pilsner, Vienna, and Carahell.

To accompany my beer I decided that for lunch I really wanted a salad. So I went for a Bitta Salad, with mixed greens, rocket, cherry tomatoes, mozzarella, and olives, and of course a bottle of extra virgin olive oil and Balsamic vinegar with which to dress it. It was accompanied by some slices of bread and, of course, a handful of taralli. As to my pint, I could definitely taste the Pilsner malt, which leant a real pilsner taste as opposed to the usual hoppy IPA character. At first I thought my server may have accidentally given me the pilsner; but then I read on the brewery’s website that the Bajadera IPA has plenty of hops, but it’s the malts that give it that character. Nevertheless, it was a fine accompaniment to my wonderfully perfect salad, which I ate while Gloria Gayner crooning “I Will Survive" blasted from a speaker somewhere. And when Gloria finished, Joan Jett burst into “I Love Rock and Roll", immediately followed by Nancy Sinatra singing about her boots. So my entire lunch was pretty much a winner: great salad, good music by classic women, and a really decent beer.

Venturing out beyond Bari, I spent half a day in Alberobello. This town is famous for its unique trulli, drystone houses with conical roofs built in the 14th and 15th centuries. The houses were built with limestone and no mortar, supposedly to avoid the high property taxes on roofs. Whenever the tax collectors would come into town, the residents could quickly remove the roofs, and then just slap them back up once the danger was gone.

After I wandered up and down all the trulli-lined streets and lanes, getting my fill of conical roofs and feeling like I was in the land of garden gnomes, I felt like I needed a liquid break. In the midst of the Rione Monti I happily stumbled upon the only craft brewery in the town, Malart. Apparently the brewery’s beers include an IPA, a Cream Ale, a Belgian Strong Golden Ale, a Wheat Beer, a Porter, a Black IPA, and a Dark Ale, but sadly on this particular day they had only two of the six taps dispensing. Seeing as how it was still before noon I forwent the 8.4% Belgian Strong and went for the equivalent of a half pint of the 5% German-style lager, which was much better than most so-called lagers, and quite appropriate for the early hour. While I stood at the bar chatting with the young proprietor, several other thirsty tourists found their way into the small, cosy taproom, and there were more standing outside in the shade sipping Malart beers. It was definitely a popular spot, perhaps the best spot to be, in this sunny and uniquely quirky dry-stone town.

Sadly, besides an afternoon in Matera (where I didn't sample any beer), I didn't have time to see, or taste, any other parts of Puglia or Italy. But there's always next time.