Taranto to Ostuni: Mussels, Olive Oil, and the White City

Part 3 of the Grand Anniversary Journey: Rome to Venice

← Swipe to see all ports →

Every leg sailed aboard the Windstar Wind Surf. Read our full review

Today’s trip took us from our port in Taranto to the village of Ostuni, the White Lady. Taranto sits on the inside of the heel of Italy’s boot, in the Gulf of Taranto.

⚓ A Bit About Taranto

Taranto today is more of an industrialized port, known for iron mining, cement production, and shipping, its skyline dominated by cranes and steelworks rather than postcard views. But the city’s roots go back nearly 2,700 years: Spartan colonists founded it in 706 BC as Taras, and within two centuries it had grown into the largest and most powerful Greek city in the western Mediterranean, home to the philosopher and mathematician Archytas and, for a time, to Pythagoras himself. Its position between two harbors, the Mar Grande and the Mar Piccolo, earned it the nickname “City of Two Seas,” and Taranto remained a major power until Rome finally absorbed it in 272 BC. It’s been a working port city ever since, serving as an important naval base through the centuries and still home to Italy’s main naval fleet today.

Modern Taranto has also built a genuinely successful mussel farming industry, thanks to underwater freshwater springs, called citri, that feed cool, mineral-rich water up into the Mar Piccolo from below. That mix of fresh and salt water turns out to be ideal for mussels, and Taranto’s cozze have been prized since Roman times.

The wider region is known for low rainfall, dry agriculture, and wildfire risk, conditions that happen to be perfect for olives. Olive oil production has become one of the area’s main industries as a result, and it shows up in nearly everything on the local table.

🏛️ Ostuni, the White City

From Taranto we traveled northeast, crossing over to Italy’s Adriatic side to visit Ostuni. Ostuni earned its nickname, la Città Bianca, because its old town is completely whitewashed in a limestone coating, a tradition that took hold in the late Middle Ages and intensified through the 17th century.

White coastal fortress with multiple white arches and balconies along a stone wall under a blue sky, by rocky shore. — Ostuni Outer Wall

The whitewash served three real purposes, not just one. First, the bright white reflects the intense southern sun and keeps the stone interiors noticeably cooler in summer. Second, and more urgently, the lime itself acts as a natural disinfectant; when plague swept through this region, Ostuni’s residents whitewashed the entire town, inside and out, believing (correctly, as it turns out, since lime is naturally antibacterial) that it helped ward off the disease. Ostuni came through outbreaks relatively unscathed while nearby villages didn’t, which only cemented the tradition. Third, in a town built without any real plan, houses stacked on top of houses along a maze of narrow, shadowy alleys, the white walls helped bounce light down into those dark passageways, making the streets brighter and more livable long before electricity existed.

🫒 An Education in Olive Oil

On the drive over to Ostuni, our guide gave us a genuinely great education in olive oil growing and production. When we asked later, he admitted his father was actually in the olive oil business himself, which explained the depth of detail. Some of the local olive trees are currently under pressure from a disease called Xylella fastidiosa, a bacterium first detected in Puglia around 2013 that’s since destroyed a significant share of the region’s olive trees by choking off their water and nutrients. It’s a serious threat to an industry that produces a meaningful share of the world’s olive oil, and researchers and growers alike are working hard to contain it before it spreads further. Our guide’s inside tip: buy olive oil when the olives are harvested, late October through early November, for the smoothest, most lightly flavored oil of the year.

A small stone building sits at the edge of a golden field with a line of trees under a clear blue sky. — Olive trees and drought

🚶 Walking Ostuni

Reaching the town, we could see the white village rising on its hillside well before we arrived. Our bus driver dropped us just outside the walled city, and we walked in on foot toward the main square.

Outdoor café in a sunlit plaza with wicker chairs, tables set with red cushions under large white umbrellas; diners at the far tables; stone buildings in the background. — Ostuni Plaza

Our guide led us up toward the cathedral, stopping along the way to point out small but genuinely interesting details: old proverbs carved above doorways (one along the lines of “you will reap what you sow”), markers from long-vanished cemeteries just outside the cathedral walls, the town’s very first freshwater pumps, and other quiet pieces of history tucked into the alleyways.

⛪ The Cathedral

At the cathedral, we stopped about ten feet back while our guide explained the religious symbolism built into its circular exterior design. Interestingly, only the outside of the cathedral holds UNESCO World Heritage status; the interior was never fully restored after earthquakes over the centuries, including a major one in 1743, and our guide told us it’s genuinely not worth going inside to see.

Facade of a historic stone church with a large circular rose window and arched doorway against a clear blue sky. — Cathedral Exterior

🦴 The Oldest Mother in the World

On our way back down toward the city center, we stopped at a small museum holding one of the most remarkable prehistoric finds in Europe: the skeleton of a young pregnant woman, discovered in a cave just outside the town walls. Nicknamed Delia, she and her unborn child date back roughly 28,000 years, to the Upper Paleolithic, making her one of the only known examples of a pregnant woman from that era found anywhere in the world. She was buried carefully, one hand resting protectively over her abdomen, alongside a headdress of more than a hundred seashells. Buried nearby in the same cave, and found even older still, is the so-called Man of Ostuni, meaning whatever civilization these two belonged to was already established here at least 28,000 to 30,000 years ago. It has a way of putting our own everyday troubles into perspective: this too shall pass, indeed.

Outdoor museum banner in Italian advertising the Museo di Civiltà Preclassiche della Muraglia Meridionale, featuring two photo panels of archaeological finds and a sculpture of a woman's head with a staff; stone wall and stairs in foreground. — Oldest woman and child in the world

🍦 An Hour on Our Own

We were turned loose for an hour of free time to explore a bit more on our own. Bob and I ducked into a few olive oil shops and, once he’d tasted enough to be convinced, bought a small can of local oil to bring home. From there we wandered down toward the square to the gelato shop we’d spotted on our way in. We settled in for a small afternoon snack and a bit of people-watching, and ended up catching a wedding taking place at the church right on the plaza, a nice, unplanned bonus.

Narrow sunlit stone stairway in a historic alley with string lights, potted plants, and a small outdoor cafe table set at the top. — Ostuni Alley

Our guide showed up right on time at 5 p.m., and we marched off to find our bus for the hour-long ride back to the cruise terminal.

Another day, more fascinating history, another genuinely charming village. This is exactly why we love cruising to places like this: remarkable spots, layered with history, that we’d likely never find any other way.