She wanted the Italian coast.
But she didn't want the crowds.
She wanted authentic food culture—family-run trattorias, fresh seafood, recipes passed down through generations.
But she didn't want to eat at restaurants designed for tourists.
She wanted turquoise water and whitewashed villages and that particular quality of light you only get on the Italian coast.
But she wanted to feel like she'd discovered something. Not like she was following everyone else's itinerary.
And she was going in July.
That last part? That's what made the decision for me.
The Amalfi Coast is stunning. I'm not going to pretend it's not.
The cliffside roads. The pastel villages tumbling down to the sea. The bougainvillea spilling over terraces. The light at sunset that makes you understand why people have been painting this coastline for centuries.
I love the Amalfi Coast.
But in July? It's a different place entirely.
In July, you'll spend half your day sitting in traffic between Positano and Ravello. Breathing exhaust fumes. Watching tour buses inch past you on roads that were built for donkeys, not cars.
The beaches are shoulder-to-shoulder.
The prices are inflated because they can be.
And that version of Amalfi you see on Instagram—the empty piazza, the quiet cove, the table overlooking the sea with no one else around? That exists at 6 a.m. Before the cruise ships dock. Before the day-trippers arrive.
She wanted the coast without the crowds.
She wanted authentic experiences. Not the ones buried under tour groups and selfie sticks.
She wanted to feel like she was living in Italy, not visiting a postcard.
So I sent her to Puglia.
Puglia is the heel of Italy's boot. The part most Americans haven't heard of yet—though Italians have been vacationing there for decades.
It has everything the Amalfi Coast has.
Dramatic coastline.
Whitewashed villages.
Turquoise water so clear you can see the rocks on the bottom.
Incredible food—some of the best in Italy.
But it doesn't have the crowds. Not yet. Not in the way Amalfi does.
And it has something Amalfi doesn't: the trulli (those iconic cone-roofed houses), the olive groves, the masserie (centuries-old farm estates).
Here's what I designed for her.
A masseria in the Valle d'Itria—set among UNESCO-protected olive groves that have been here for a thousand years. Fourteen rooms. A spa. A farm-to-table restaurant where the menu changes based on what's ripe that day. Views of the sea from the terrace, but also views of the land—the red earth, the ancient trees, the stone walls.
A culinary e-bike ride through the olive groves, stopping at a family-run cheese farm for lunch—mozzarella and burrata made that morning, served with bread still warm from the oven.
A winery visit outside Polignano a Mare—one of the most beautiful coastal towns in Italy, where the old town is built into the cliffs and the water below glows turquoise.
A ceramic workshop in Grottaglie with an artisan who's been working clay for 40 years.
A walk through Ostuni at sunset—the "white city," where every building is painted white and the streets glow gold.
And beach days. Quiet coves. Turquoise water. The kind of coast where you can still find a spot to yourself in July.
This is what curation looks like.
Not "Amalfi is bad, Puglia is good."
But "Here's what you actually want. Here's when you're going. And here's where you'll find it."
If she were going in October? I might have sent her to Amalfi. But she was going in July. And she wanted the coast without the chaos.
Puglia was the answer.
If you want the Italian coast—but you're not sure which one, or when, or how to pace it—let's talk.
I'll help you figure out what's right for you. Not what's trending. Not what everyone else is doing. What actually fits your travel style, your timing, your version of Italy.
Learn more about working together here.
A presto,
P.S. — January and February are when I design most of my spring and summer trips. If you're thinking about Italy this year, now's the time to start the conversation—before the best agriturismi and masserie fill up.