A Day in Puglia. By Claudia Trotter.

8am- wake up in your sheets strewn with sand from yesterday’s coastal adventures to a thin beam of light streaming in through your wooden teal shutters. Tiptoe out of your trulli (the traditional Puglian house) and across the garden, dive into the crystal-clear pool, interrupting the calm, chilly water and allow yourself to float for a while. You are awake and ready to begin your day.

 9am- take a drive in your olive coloured Fiat and wave to the locals out your window hanging out their linen on the washing line. Stroll down from your car and immerse yourself within the bustling vibrancy of the Saturday morning market. The cold cobbled streets are the only relief to the sweaty air that encompasses your body, little drops of moisture are forming on your forehead. The boisterous voices of vendors bargaining over the top of one another fill your ear and you are spoilt for choice by the decadent array of fresh produce. Fill your hessian bag with delicious earthy greens and some fresh tagliatelle for tonight’s feast, bought using some loose change.

 12pm- you’re back at your trulli, a hidden oasis amongst the windy roads of Puglia. It’s time to prepare a lunchtime snack. The temperature is rising and you want something light. Wash a handful of bright red tomatoes and toss them with some basil that you can smell from a mile away. Shave some pecorino over the top and finish with some salt and pepper. Chop up that humungous juicy watermelon and crack open a can of Orangina to slurp up on the deck.

2pm- It’s time to soak up a few rays. Sunglasses on, book out. You can smell the lavender in your garden as you sink into your lounge chair. Put on Eros Ramazzotti, a local and vivacious Italian singer songwriter who will serenade you with his love songs as you fall into an afternoon siesta.

 4pm- Your skin is looking a bit pink; I think it’s time for a little outing. Stroll into the little understated town of Ostuni. Perched on top of a hill, the white, flat topped buildings look like something out of Greece, especially at dusk when the pinky hues of the sunset reflect onto the walls. Explore the quaint little boutique shops and lose track of time as you stick your nose along the shelves of bookshops. Sit down in the middle of the square at a rickety wooden table and order yourself a cocktail, an Aperol spritz to be specific. People watch. Notice the children playing chasey around their grandparents. Observe the waiters, eager to refresh their customers with a cool drink. Admire the women, heading out for an evening meal in their white, linen dresses and sun kissed skin.

 7pm- time to start cooking. The sky is beginning to become a deeper blue and there is a slight breeze in the air. There is a bottle of red wine from Tuscany on the bench beckoning to be opened. Boil some water and toss in the pasta you bought this morning. Drown it in a fresh tomato and zucchini sauce and consume at your leisure.

9pm- the night is now a cloudless deep indigo and the temperature has dropped. It’s the end of another perfect day. Climb into your bed and sink into your pillow.

As you drift off to sleep your bedroom still has the reminiscence  of the room spray you had spritzed your pillow with  earlier. Laboratorio Olfattivo, Petali di Tiarè. The scent, as in a Sunday awakening, the softness  of jasmine joins the sweetness of coconut in the base notes. That magically brings you to a faraway paradise as you drift off into a peaceful slumber.