Next on our itinerary, and the prime motivation of the trip, was a visit to the town of Bitonto. It’s unlikely you’ve ever heard of Bitonto, but it is such a treasure of a city hidden and waiting to be explored in the Apulian countryside outside of Bari. My boyfriend’s family left Bitonto in the first half of the 20th century due to growing political unrest and lack of opportunities. A story only too many Italian emigrants know too well. With news of our trip back to his family’s home region, we were requested to locate the grave stone of one of his ancestors. Something that seems to be requested of me quite often when I’m traveling.. Family graves aside, we couldn’t miss a chance to explore the town his family left behind those many years ago.
Train to Bitonto
That morning we hopped back on the train, this time to Bari, where we would take a different regional train that isn’t run by the national train company TrenItalia. To save some time looking for this other train platform we decided to ask the man operating the bus tickets kiosk where to find this particular train, which also operates as the shuttle from Bari Aeroporto to Bari Centrale. So it’s a frequently used train.. He directed us to the other side of the rather large train station where we found absolutely nothing, not even a bus stop. Thankfully we popped into a bar for an espresso and hopefully some correct directions. Through the barista’s thick Barese accent we were finally able to get real directions to the platform, which ended up being located literally right behind the bus ticket kiosk where we had originally asked for directions. Classic.
The train ride from Bari Centrale to Bitonto was a quick twenty minutes and full of lovely views. At first Bitonto seemed like any other Italian city with brutalist buildings on the perimeter of the town. But, they quickly fell away to reveal beautiful old stone buildings, piazzas and a vibrant town full of kind people and a strong history.
The 654 Year old bakery
As we wandered down narrow streets, we stumbled upon Antico Forno San Pietro, a bakery hidden at the bottom of a set of stairs. A glance at the sign made us do a double-take: Since 1370? We couldn’t believe it. Later, we learned that the bakery was a source of great pride for the locals.
Inside, two older women were busily preparing orders for regular customers, speaking to each other in Barese with the rhythm of a well-practiced routine. We could still feel the warmth of the wood-fired oven as we stepped carefully around the long wooden paddles used to move the bread in and out. Despite the bakery’s old-world charm, we were surprised to find they accepted credit cards, which seemed a rarity for such traditional establishments. We ordered some delicious focaccia Barese to enjoy for breakfast. Our only regret was not trying more of their baked goods, like taralli. We’ll definitely be back.
Next, we visited the Cathedral of Saint Mary of the Assumption, an exquisite Romanesque church dating back to the 11th century. We sat outside in the shade, savoring our focaccia, before heading inside to explore the church.
A dose of Southern Hospitality
What struck me most about Bitonto was the kindness of its people. Two moments stand out. While I was admiring a window through the lens of my camera, an elderly woman was shaking out a rug over her balcony. She noticed me, perhaps thought I was photographing her, and cheerfully called down, “Ciao bella!”
Shortly after, we stopped to ask an older man for directions and some suggestions which he happily rattled off. We ended up running into him twice more that day, each time he eagerly checked to see if we had found our way and wanted to chat.
On our way through a narrow street, a car pulled up next to me. The driver rolled down the window and, with a knowing smile, mentioned that they had overheard our conversation with the “crazy old man” and wanted to suggest we visit the Forno. I happily shared that we had already been there and loved it. After a brief exchange and an invitation to return for a local jazz festival later that month, they were on their way, leaving us charmed by Bitonto’s sense of community.
The historic city center of Bitonto may be small, but as I reflect on our time there, I realize just how much we left unexplored. In our search for the elusive family gravestone, we found ourselves at the edge of the city, overlooking a vast olive grove stretching toward the hilltop town.
As we wandered, we learned that Bitonto has a surprisingly rich history of music. The midday heat was beginning to take its toll, so we sought the cool refuge of a large garden dedicated to the town’s musical heritage. Bronze busts of local musicians line the paths, a fitting tribute to Bitonto’s longstanding musical tradition. This discovery was especially meaningful to Nick, who comes from a very musical family. In his free time, he can often be found singing, composing, and strumming his guitars.
As we wandered back toward the train station, we were surprised by the sea views offered by this ancient hilltop town and the refreshing breezes that rolled in from the coast. They seemed to carry a quiet promise, inviting us to return and uncover more of Bitonto’s secrets.
While we didn’t manage to locate Nick’s long-lost relatives or the family grave, we left Bitonto with a sense of belonging. This cozy southern town had welcomed us, and we know we’ll be back—perhaps to reach out to someone in the commune to help us find the right cemetery next time.
But for now, our next adventure awaited: Bari!
A la prossima!
Aleksandra
