Salento seasons in Sucèa: we invite our visitors in any period of the year

The virtues of Salento land and its beauty are multiple and they change according to the natural cycle of seasons, which are temperate and mild throughout the year. In the same way, there are different  and alternative possibilities to appreciate this last strip of European land, as guests or travellers. Our intention is to invite you to visit us throughout the year, not only in…



Crowds of tourists, as they suffer in the hot weather of towns, move towards South to find refreshing sunny beaches, with the most clean water sea. They are seduced and encouraged by a vital and colourful welcome, with the seasonal red watermelons and the yellow prickly pears, and by the cheerful and lively rhythm of tambourines during the nights. The strong wide vibrations spread quickly in the obscurity of nights, through bonfire lights, beaches which are as much yellow as wheat, and majestic rocks supervised by gloomy towers. Finally, they mix with ebb and flow of quiet sea, and blow over into the Mediterranean  immensity, as they calm down the orgiastic fury by which they were generated.



The land softly falls asleep. Its yawns are precious gifts, which will provide warmth when there will be the need: hefty and velvet wine caresses the spirits of those people who monitor the nights, pomegranates light up torches used by the solitary pedestrian to go back home, quinces make more pleasant the solitary way back, oil is the fundamental ingredient of steamy dishes eaten in family lunches or dinners . It’s time of spiritual retreat, both individual and collective, in the hinterland expanses, it’s time of listening to our heart and find the echoes of the major rural culture, of its labour, its values, its Christian works and its poetic narrations around comforting fireplaces. Their fire illuminates corners, alleys and paths of atavistic traditions which characterized many different centuries, you could delicately gaze at.



As you venture under the well-lighted full moon, you could glimpse the light and shade, grey sea reflections: the sea is like a whirlpool and groping giant, who try to climb the land breast. Even in winter, this land provides a lukewarm refuge to anyone who wants to be delighted by it.

Once a shelter from the cool is found,  a drowsy listlessness  takes possession of thinks and human beings, occasionally interrupted by the shining of bluish colours, overwhelmed by the green of high olive trees, the red of the patient and motherly wet land, and the warmth of a peaceful lifestyle, warmed up by family meetings and sometimes invigorated by feasts.



Among the colourful petals of field flowers, young life enthusiastically yells and shouts, surrounded by rows of olive trees and derides the silent quiet of dry stone walls. A buzz made by a swarm of hungry insects echoes in caverns of stone houses, while in yellow squares of towns, dancing dust reflects a young sun, which smiles at men and women, just woken up.

From the dawn of the new  season, among shining and fascinating sea waves, tambourines echoes will  spread again throughout the peninsula and cover it with beaches, notes among ears of wheat will take possession of anyone who would listen to them, and would dance in baroque performances, on the land that smells of scrub. These notes grips human spirits, like twisted columns, which can’t wait to tell about the ancient adventures of these lands, about their passionate inhabitants who danced on the stage of this  thousand-year old Mediterranean history.