Here Italy comes to an end. Santa Maria di Leuca occupies the very tip of the heel of the boot, where, according to tradition, the Adriatic meets the Ionian Sea: on days of opposing winds, fishermen claim you can make out the line where the two seas ruffle against each other. Ships, often modest in size, anchor off the bay or dock at the marina; the landing opens onto a seafront planted with oleanders, where grand 19th-century villas vie in extravagance under the Salento sun. The entire port call unfolds on the scale of the headland: a few kilometres of shoreline, a sanctuary, a lighthouse, and the very distinct feeling of having arrived somewhere.

De Finibus Terrae, the end of the land

On the headland, the basilica-sanctuary of De Finibus Terrae — "at the ends of the earth" — has watched over the cape for centuries. The current building, erected in the 18th century in a sober Baroque style, succeeds a temple dedicated to Minerva: Greek sailors, then Christian pilgrims bound for the Holy Land, always stopped at this threshold between two worlds. The colonnaded forecourt overlooks the sea; next to it, the octagonal lighthouse, one of the most important in Italy, raises its 47-metre tower atop the cliff. From the lookout, the eye ranges freely over the vastness, with not a single island to stop it.

The monumental cascade

Between the sanctuary and the marina tumbles a surprising monument: the monumental stairway of the Apulian Aqueduct, completed as a cascade in 1939 to celebrate the completion of the largest aqueduct in Europe, which finally brought running water to this arid region. Its long flights of steps frame the waterfall, which runs only on special occasions, and a tall commemorative column marks its base. The walk down, between pines and agaves, links the heights to the seafront in a quarter of an hour.

The villas of summers past

In the 19th century, the Salento nobility made Leuca their summer retreat and built villas along the shore that competed in fantasy: Moorish, neo-Gothic, Pompeian, even Chinese. Their pastel façades, turrets and bougainvillea gardens now form, along the shore, an open-air architecture museum that you explore while strolling the lungomare, gelato in hand. Striped beach cabins and small coves of white pebbles complete this setting from another era.

The grottoes of the two seas

Leuca's real show takes place from the water. Boats leave the harbour to follow the cliffs, eastward toward the Devil's Grotto and the arches of Tre Porte, westward toward caves where the light turns electric blue. The Porcinara grotto, carved out in antiquity, preserves votive inscriptions left by sailors who begged the gods for protection before rounding the cape. The excursion lasts one to two hours and reveals a coastline sculpted, pierced and polished by thousands of years of swell.

The cape of farewells

Heading back out to sea, the ship rounds the headland and its lighthouse, as generations of vessels have done before it. Sailors in antiquity saluted here the last land before the unknown; today's cruise passenger salutes a secret Italy that reveals itself without staging or crowds. Leuca slowly fades in the wake, but the imaginary line between the two seas lingers long in the daydreams of passengers leaning on the rail.