By the time I turn into the driveway of Masseria Prosperi, I can feel my shoulders drop. After weeks of spluttering around Spain speaking Spang-itang-lish, there’s something reassuring about being back, where at least a few words come easily. I’ve rented myself a little car, and today marks the start of my two-week solo road trip through the southern part of the boot. As someone who, until recently, described herself as a Northern Italy devotee, this is my fourth time visiting Puglia in as many years. The food, the seaside, the slower pace of life, with a light that falls like no other, have brought me back to deepen my connection to this region and its legendary hospitality.