Our Giovinazzo hotel story continues.
The deserted pool had gone to the algae and seen better days.
It was surrounded by old plastic deckchairs, reminiscent of its 1970s heyday.
A larger pool nearby looked quite seductive, until you spotted the months of leaves and summer insects that had taken up residence there.
A stranger with binoculars looked through the hotel border fence then wandered away across rocks and an ascending shoreline.
To the right of this lay old fishing nets with the fragments of seashells and other seaside detritus.
The beach was part concrete, part sand, with lots of little inlets and private sunbathing areas, that were only shaded at certain times.
A restaurant sat beside this magical forgotten place, yet it was barely open.
As food became thin on the ground, being miles from the nearest town, we made do with what was on offer, which became scanty. Either that, or we’d take the shuttle bus to Giovinazzo and get our nutrients there.
An angry-faced chap was visited and given a tray twice a day, then he’d scurry back into his apartment.
It was unclear what role he played, but he became part of our fanciful imaginations and we wondered why he was there...
An elderly man in black, with a wise eye, would regularly frequent the place.
He was cunning (or furbo, as they say in Italian) and would engage in brief conversations to ‘sistemare le cose’. He sorted things out. Kind of.
By night we heard the shouting of two men but by morning, the new arrivals would be shielded from any internal shenanigans and shown charmingly to their rooms.
An angry chef could be heard in the distance having his tantrums.
The Armani suited manager would occasionally visit.
His aftershave left a trail of perfumed air as he wafted through.
We would repair to our beach every day and return at dusk.
A return to childhood saw us paddling and looking in rock pools.
You might think from all this that we disliked our stay but you are very wrong.
Sometimes the unexpected things draw us in...
We absolutely loved it!