“For the resolute countrymen trying to dodge the extortionate taxing system, this was a handy, and likely necessary, survival tactic.”
There’s an Italian proverb: “A chi vuole non mancano modi.” Its closest English translation is “where there’s a will, there’s a way.” An ode to the grit and determination of Italy’s people, it’s far from the passive (and clichéd) concepts of “la dolce vita” or “il dolce far niente” so praised abroad. Yes, the country has a much better balance of work and play than elsewhere, but here, effort isn’t sacrificed for ease. There’s nowhere that demonstrates this better than the region of Puglia–after all, the heel is the most important, and hardworking, part of a boot.
It starts in Puglia’s cuisine, with exquisite dishes made using the most minimal of ingredients, along with products like burrata that, though the proverbial lily may be gilded abroad, retains its simple origins here. The region’s humble dances have become some of the country’s most recognizable, and the antique markets are testament to the beauty that can be born out of necessity. Even the modest, white, conical houses dotting the Valley d’Itria, called trulli, have withstood time, actual deconstruction, and innovation to become one of the most famous symbols of the region.
Dating back to the 14th century, these cylindrical trulli are made from gleaming, white limestone slabs (which was available in abundance in the region), and their conical roofs from thin peppered gray slates (chiancarelle) neatly arranged one on top of the other. Small doorways lead to the interiors, which, like an igloo, have not a corner in sight. Origins of the name are uncertain, though a likely theory connects it to the Latin “turulla”, meaning “small tower”, a charming testament to what they were made for.
Designed to serve small-scale landowners or farm laborers in both their work and rest, the trulli acted either as dwellings for the peasant communities or storage space for livestock, grains, and grapes during the harvest. At the height of the hottest August days, they also provided the toiling workers a cool escape from the beating sun. Their thick walls ventilated in the summer and insulated in the winter, while the roofs were specifically designed to prevent rainwater from trickling in. They range from miniscule shelters with just enough space for a bed to multiple trulli fused together into impressively-sized institutions, and, according to Christian folklore, rudimentary symbols are painted on some of the roofs in an attempt to ward off evil.
Despite the structures’ remarkable durability, the construction, particularly the roofs, was originally intended to be temporary and easily dismantled. The common theory of this strange manufacturing is that settlers could avoid the soaring property taxes by the Kingdom of Naples if they had buildings without roofs, which wouldn’t qualify as veritable “homes”; so, the robust and weather-resistant sanctuaries, whether they acted as housing or storage, could be entirely dismantled by removing just one slab from the roof. When the tax collector came knocking, all they’d find was a circular mound without any covering. For the resolute countrymen trying to dodge the extortionate taxing system, this was a handy, and likely necessary, survival tactic.
Although their design was intended for the short-term, hundreds still speckle the entire countryside of the Valle d’Itria. They’re specific to this part of Puglia because the town of Conversano, just south of Bari, was home to ruling counts who granted the local peasants the possibility of building temporary, drystone structures across their land.
A whopping 1,500 of these sugar-cubed huts are concentrated in the town of Alberobello, which is now a UNESCO heritage site, constructed in the 15th century after the Kingdom of Naples’ taxing decree was imposed. A further theory of these shelters’ fleeting design points to Alberobello’s history as a spectacular woodland; the city’s name derives from the medieval Latin, “silva alboris belli”, translating to “beautiful forest.” In order to safeguard the land, settlers were only allowed to construct short-term housing that wouldn’t damage any of the surrounding trees. The clever solution? Trulli. Rows and rows of their gray domes now cascade down the gently sloping paths of the town, which, truth be told, are often overcrowded with tourists trying to snap a few pictures of the brilliant white stones.
Beyond Alberobello–the main destination for trullo-spotting–the countryside around Locorotondo, Fasano, Ostuni, Cisternino, and Martina Franca are also rife with these fairytale huts. And, if you were to head away from the southern Mediterranean shores towards the Bavarian hinterlands, you’ll find one more place where this style of building can be found. In Germany’s Rhineland, a few remaining trulli are nestled among the vineyards, built by 18th-century migrant laborers. Escaping dire circ*mstances in southern Italy–where poverty-stricken communities moved elsewhere in search of better employment, pay, and living conditions–many settled in Germany’s wine regions, likely because they had similar experience working this type of land in Italy. Why they built trulli here, some 400 years after they were first seen in Puglia, is unclear; perhaps it was the only way they knew how to build, they fulfilled decrees of temporary housing, or they acted as a reminder of what they had left behind in the south. In any case, it was their faithful refuge on foreign soil.
The power of trulli lies in their unexpected legacy–they weren’t supposed to last for hundreds of years, and yet now, all measures are taken to ensure they do. UNESCO protects them precisely because their architecture is unique to Puglia and its cultural identity. Multiple legislations also are set in place to preserve the trulli, and it’s illegal to deconstruct, restructure, or significantly alter them. The building of fake versions is also strictly forbidden. Even just repairing the roof of a trullo can reach up to €15,000, as restoration regulations are so specific. Yet, prices for these former peasant homes soar in the tens of thousands due to increasing demand. A relatively small number of locals still inhabit them, though the majority have been transformed into luxury accommodations, acclaimed restaurants, or artisanal shops. Ristorante Trullo D’Oro and Cucina dei Trulli are two of the finest restaurants in Alberobello, and the concept store Tholos is a trove of local wines, cheeses, olive oil, and cured meats.
The irony, however, is not lost. Trulli were built 700 years ago by the poorest sectors of society and now hefty sums are paid for the experience to sleep, dine, or shop within their hallowed limestone walls. Purchasing a ruined trullo to renovate and develop a fruitful business in is an ingenious way of preserving the distinctive history of the region, keeping the humble trullo alive, much like those in Abruzzo have done with trabocchi and the ancient Sicilians with their Greek temples. Puglia’s, and the trulli’s, surging popularity is further indication that Italian creativity and determination has not once dwindled over the years: “A chi vuole non mancano modi.”
