One for the books!

by Manuela Lobo (India)

A leap into the unknown Italy

PANIC!!! ...I looked up at an ash coloured sky, the birds gliding in the wind, seemed unperturbed yet flew away from the cloud of smoke, tourists stopped and starred at the huge, imposing conic mountain covered in shades of green and yellow trying to gage the situation. The cold breeze that morning was more than I could handle, so I sunk my hands into my pockets and quickened my pace as I headed towards my hotel. Stromboli, is one of the eight Aeolian islands in the Tyrrhenian Sea, off the north coast of Sicily and is known for it’s active volcano (and continuous eruptions) that greets tourists and locals every 20 minutes with a loud, hollow, echoing roar announcing to one and all, that it’s presence is not to be forgotten. It is a small, picturesque island with narrow streets and quaint shops on every corner. The white washed houses are a perfect backdrop against the black volcanic sand. Perhaps, one of the most charming aspects of this remote place is that, one can commute either by foot or by mini, golf-like carts, and at night, in order to avoid a catastrophe, a candle (the romantic in me) or more realistically, a torch or cellphone, would be required to guide you, as the island maintains it’s rural yet elegant vibe, resulting in blissful quietness, darkness and a bejewelled sky. Maria, a vibrant bubble of enery who worked at the hotel i was staying at, informed me, that there was a little bus some kilometres away, that could take me up to the planetarium and upon asking if I could walk there myself, I was told that it was rather difficult and not for everyone. The adventurer in me, of course, took that on as a direct challenge. Armed with a hat, a fully charged cellphone, a bottle of water and my trusted pair of super grip slippers (not ideal I know), I proceeded toward the ‘uphill’ battle. Throughout my walk, I think I barely blinked, afraid I might miss even a millisecond of something I could potentially regret. My eyes glistened with excitement, taking in every colour, every tone, every single hue that engulfed that scenic route. The depth of blue of the sea changed the higher I got and the smell of the wild flowers consumed me. Tourists geared up with their trekking equipment probably looked at this brown girl in flip flops, wondering if she was lost or had lost her mind. Little did they know, that I was on a mission of my own. After a 3 hour hike, I spotted a little restaurant (called the planetarium). Parched and famished, I headed straight to the counter, got myself a cold beer and a sandwich and headed outdoors. I din’t, afterall, make my way up there to be cooped up inside, now, did I? There I was, in this haven, with nothing and no one around me, having a stare-off....me vs the volcano. There’s a certain thrill of living on the edge, the uncertainty of nature, the vulnerability of life, an adrenaline rush that initially overwhelms you but subsequently makes you so thankful to be alive. That night, I made my way to the only pub open on the island. It was classy with a very real feel to it and I immediately felt welcome. I was surrounded by white delicate flowers, scented candles, the sound of a slightly agitated sea, soft jazz music in the background and Marco, my trusted waiter,who would not let my glass of merlot run dry. Having lived a few years in Italy, I had romanced the Italian language and was capable of holding a conversation, something that astonished many Italians along the way as well as Marco who had a fascinatingly witty sense of humour. At sunrise, I starred motionless at the lacerated horizon with it’s pastel shades oozing out, for all to see. I felt almost possessed by the power of nature but it was time to leave. Mount Stromboli incessantly grumbled as I boarded, almost empathising with me. I knew, in that moment, it was not an ‘addio’ but a ‘see you very soon’