Viaggio in Sicilia: Epilogue
I have managed to finish recording this travel log of our 2024 Sicily adventure as I sit here on the balcony of our Ischia home, sipping my morning coffee and feeling the breeze blowing in from the sea as it caresses my skin and arouses my senses. The smells and sounds of the vicolo fill me with the early morning wonder that defines this place at 8am: the morning light, the crisp air, the smells of Trani’s cornetti and Boccia’s freshly baked bread competing for my attention, the voices of the delivery men bringing a fresh round of mozzarelle di buffalo and other supplies to the nearby store or of the children imploring their fathers not to leave or to indulge them with God knows what treat… and, of course, of the vespe that arrive, park, then leave, that break the morning quiet just long enough to make me appreciate the stillness –Leopardi’s quiete dopo la tempesta– all the more when the noise dies down. There’s nothing like noise to make you fathom the value and meaning of quiet.
No log could really capture the meaning of Ischia 2024. It has been a mélange of swimming and hiking, of crystal clear emerald waters that reflect the deep blue sky, of sticky sweaty shirts and refreshingly cool drinks, of friends and feasts and photography… All the elements that define our time here and that interlace our succession of years here in unique ways.
For me, however, this period has offered me the opportunity to reflect at this juncture of my life on my own odyssey of exploration and discovery –odysseys are inevitably experiences in self-discovery– and that in the broadest sense has been bookended by Sicily. In my memory there still reside images of Sicily 1969 –first impressions of an old world pensione in Messina, a large high-ceilinged room with old brass creaky beds and lumpy matrasses, and a sink that 4 very disparate 19-year-old Californians used taking turns to brush their teeth, wash their face, prime themselves for their day of exploring the streets. I recall our late-night stroll along Siracusa’s ancient harbor, our being powered by our wild exhilaration as we ran through what I recall as being the unfenced Valley of the Temples in Agrigento… I can’t recall the entrance fees, the signs and paths, the presence of other tourists back then. It felt so… natural, wild, unmitigated. These and so many other threads were woven into the imagination of a young man setting out to conquer his world, a quest that involved, above all, language, culture, history and travel… and a deep interest in understanding how to negotiate the space shared by self and other, socially and culturally. But these opaque reflections have taken me away from the most important point to be made here this morning. I have come to see more clearly and value more deeply the unique role that Italy has had for me in my quest. Although my ancestral roots here are shallower in relation to my connection to Spain, my decision to learn Italian and live in Italy was undoubtedly inspired by my mother. Somehow, on some level, the love I have developed for this country and have celebrated by returning to where it all started all seems to represent a difficult-to-capture journey into the self, an exercise in self-affirmation, a process of individuation.
Photo album available on Flickr at: https://flic.kr/s/aHBqjBBMTH
