In Puglia, on the southeastern coast of Italy, near the vacation town of Monopoli, was the oddest, almost ignored and yet gem of a museum and ancient archaeological town site called Engazia, dating back to pre-Roman Bronze Age period when the Greeks colonized the Eastern coast of Italy.
We love ancient places; they teach so much, give away so little and force the human imagination to work harder to try and make sense of something so foreign, yet not. Human is Human. Yet to see such places is to open your eyes to civilization and the passage of time, yet the immutable nature of Humankind — live, die, eat, celebrate, worship, ponder, trade.
This site and the Engazia Parco Archeologico was not easy to find, off the main coastal highway, down a dirt road that ran along the beach until you saw the sign for the museum and archeological site. You did not see the small clusters of white buildings until you arrived. It was mid afternoon and we were the only visitors.
Like many things in Italy, some things made no sense. The hours online did not match those of the museum itself. The map they gave us that showed each area of the museum, numbered and organized by era; but the path was re-numbered and exhibition rooms moved with no notice. So, the room numbers did not correspond to the chronology: It was hit and miss. Still, like so many illogical things in Italy, you just need to go with it. And we did. And it was delightful.
As tiny as this museum was, it told a story that encompassed a golden era of the founding, growth and collapse of Roman civilization.
The town itself was founded in the 15th century B.C., and preceded the Etruscan’s who in turn preceded the Romans. But as a coastal trading town, it was always a vital place. It was old. And layered. So, the museum, in a good way, and despite its slight chaos, had you follow the path of the many changes over millennia and how it impacted every aspect of life.
The primary item on display were the amphora vessels — used for many different everyday and special rituals — incredibly intact, and even with a palette of browns and black, told a colorful tale of life, dance, celebration. the frescos, often depicted in tombs, still were vibrant and while the person was forgotten, their image lived on.
After the museum, to get to the ruins of the town you need to drive a few minutes down a dirt road, heading towards the sea. The ruins actually butt up against the frontage road that separates it from the beach.
As we drove up to the small house leading to the town, a man came out and in faulting English told us where to go, what best to see, and that it was closing soon. Then he furtively glanced left and right almost clandestinely told us, if you go on the road — he pointed to the frontage road between the site and the beach — we could always come back later and park and climb over the small fence, no one would notice.
We thanked him.
The archaeological dig and ruins had a series of metal walkways above the ground, exposing and protecting different digs at different levels of completion. It felt like a place where they had ran out of money — things, like tombs and roadways and trading huts, were half-exposed.
It was fascinating to see a lasted burial cave, lines of stones that were once the stalls of merchants with their symbols barely visible and worn by time to a shadow.
One portion of the metal walkway took you above what was left of the Appian Way; you could see the tracks left by the endless parade of wagons, forming part of the spine of the timeless Roman road; the road that took all trade of food and goods to and from Rome (all roads led to Rome for a reason). This stopped in an overwhelmed way — it was just such a moving and timeless piece of history, the stone paced road, made uneven by a thousand thousand wagons carrying everything from trade to people across an empire.
Feeling a bit rushed, and not wanting to break in later, we took in as much as we could and were left with a deep deep sense of a tiny colony that had evolved to a trading village to being part of the Roman Empires trade routes. Obscure at worst, amazing and so quiet and private at best.
Monopoli is a great beach city, fun to tour the ancient walls of the harbor, the winding streets and restaurants, but the ancient town of Engazia was the real treasure — forgotten, forlorn yet a haunting and beautiful place to visit.
#puglia
#egnaziaitaly
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Outspoken Traveler 
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