In Sicily Autumn can wait

It is the first day of Autumn and I am lying on the deck of a boat in a new bikini, idly wondering which Tonnara I am looking at, since Scopello is still some miles away. And hesitating on whether I should actually jump in the water. But why not.

There is the Couscous Fest in San Vito lo Capo, the town is packed, concerts, events, food stands, wine, artisanal beer, pecorino extravaganza with pistachios and chocolate.

And people. Plenty of outgoing, talkative people, making sure I did not spend much of my two days there without exchanging views with fellow human beings.

Whether at the hotel, on the boat, for dinner at Trattoria da Mariella, or at the concert.

Young Marco, flirty Francesco, chatty Vito, sophisticated Massimo e Gloria, Umberto, Captain Salvo, informative Enza.

And also those whose name I did not get: the man of the ticket booth, the very well assimilated Peruvian lady of the souvenir shop, the Tuscan young guys tasting Donnafugata wine, the lady on the beach who took a selfie with Joe Bastianich and was shocked I did not know who this name belonged to.

Skin colour revived, bidding farewell to another summer, ready to face the thunderstorms this Fall is breeding.

Back to Tallinn

Pretty much the summary of my Estonia for the past 12 years or so.

Cold time, but good times, happy times, even exciting times. With a lot of memories and a few surprises. 

Started with discovering non existent unpaved Saaremaa roads to nowhere or pretty Tallinn old town views. Comparing the capital with its neighbours Riga or Vilnius. Realising that Helsinki is really, really close. Or being charmed by that chap with long hair and a penchant for talking non-stop and for philosophising about life, people and the world. And going back many years later, just for work, to find garlic ice cream and traditional marijuana chocolate and also that Tallinn's summer market sells woollen hats, scarfs and ponchos (and buying one, the blue one). 

Good times, happy times, exciting times. And a pinch of melancholia.
And regret

Puglia

L'estate sta finendo, cantavano i Righeira. Quest'anno la mia estate finisce in Puglia, a Polignano a Mare.

Bella, struggente e ipnotica come una canzone d'altri tempi, magari proprio del suo cittadino più famoso, ma remixata da un DJ che la sa fin troppo lunga su come vendere milioni di copie.

Estremamente affollata e rumorosa del passeggio di migliaia di persone il sabato sera, tra la cena di pesce alle Antiche Mura, la passeggiata per farsi un selfie di fronte a Cala Porto, il dopocena alla Casa del mojito.

Quasi deserta e decisamente silenziosa la domenica mattina presto, a parte le campane che segnano, con profusione di rintocchi, ogni quarto d'ora, oltre a qualche signora in villeggiatura alla ricerca della messa del primo mattino e un paio di americani alle prese col fuso e con quella minuscola quantità di liquido nero bollente che da queste parti chiamiamo caffè.

E calda, caldissima, nonostante sia quasi settembre. Splendente di sole e profumata di mare, panifici e fichi freschi. Ma se l'estate sta finendo, vuol dire che un altro anno se ne va. Vado via anch'io ma, come dicevano loro, no, proprio non mi va.

Cypriot lessons

Cyprus became my destination a bit by coincidence: someone mentioning the island on a rainy April day, me buying a ticket for August.
And a guide book.
Which I lost on day 2, just as I was going to start digging into it.

Limassol-Paphos-Larnaca-Nicosia-Kyrenia and a few small places in between. 

Loads of sun, Orthodox icons, spicy sheftalia and fresh Xynisteri. 

Plenty of Brits and Russians on beaches and promenades. 

Historical sites, tiny churches and imposing monasteries to choose amongst. 

And even without the guide, good instinct for cool open air bars ad cafes: La Isla on the beach in Limassol, Dstrkt in the centre of Larnaca, Pieto just off Ledras in Nicosia.

But also border crossings, buffer zones, abandoned buildings and some reckoning on divisions and solutions, as a reminder that this is not just another Greek island.

At the end of 10 days, after driving some 850 km and walking about 78 km (according to the iPhone's probably overgenerous counting) also some life lessons:

- driving on the left is odd but doable, also by night, but it helps if you find out how to turn the lights on before taking the highway;

- if the car in front of you at a border crossing has stopped, most likely it is not just another form of creative parking which allows you to overtake;

- this summer nothing can stop Despacito everywhere, but Greek pop will not go down without serious fighting;

- when visiting excavation areas at noon and with some 40 degrees, only one thing matters:

The day before

It has always rained in Brussels the day before holidays.
It feels like a kind of tradition after so many years.

The sky is grey. The feet are wet. The heating is on. Steve McCurry's exhibition will close soon.

You still need to finish way too many things at work before going home packing and sleeping a couple of hours.

And then you go.

Countdown

It is August again
I am in Brussels again.

That time when the perspective of holidays coming up is what keeps you going.

But also walking through the park, several times a day, and smiling at the ever changing sight of a familiar view.

 It is also getting darker earlier, but the reverse Magritte effect can still take place 

In the meantime, the stone lady at the Schumann entrance of the park hints at the kind of summer I am soon quitting the city for.

Summer days in Sofia

The latest chapter in my 2017 first-times is in the Balkans. 

Work brought me to Sofia, curiosity retained me a couple of extra days.

Temperatures above 30 (and a little too many working hours to shrug off) make a good starting point for a rather easy-going, unpretentious urban exploration, punctuated with homemade ginger lemonade and ice cream stops.

Like everywhere, high temperatures mean for kids that a hose is the best game ever invented. 

The city is truly cheap, the tour to get a flavour of the city - and tips for the rest of the day - is even free. Blue-starred Euroflags can be spotted everywhere, testimony of the financial help received from Brussels for all sort of public works. 

A visit to the "market of women" brings me back to another age, maybe one I never lived in, rich of perfume of ripe summer fruit at prices I cannot relate to any longer

.

Out of the Market, the scent of damascene roses is a constant in touristic places, not only in creams and soaps but also in candies, jams and even in a local liquor - which locals swear never to drink.

The Free Sofia Tour and buying rose scented creams topping the to-do list, visiting Alexander Nevsky' cathedral comes right next. A beautiful Orthodox church where one could spend hours enjoying not only the rich decorations but also the 3 hectic guardians running around to chase unaware visitors and enforce the 10 Lev/5€ price rule for taking photos. Success rate rather low, in the opinion of this humble observer.

And Italy is really everywhere, food, wine and fashion first and foremost. Sometimes with funny results.

Bonus of the trip: Orthodox blessing with geraniums and holy water, live on Bulgarian TV - and advice to remember to smile when cameras are around.

Wandering about Lisbon

There you go: twice in Lisbon in two weeks, after years trying to find the best moment to get there. Does one ever learn that "best moments" do not exist?


After a late night flight, a late night Uber ride, a late night delivery of a briefing, I was exhausted but Lisbon was there for a few days.

Two weeks ago, Lisbon was hot, unbearably hot, forest fires exploding in the north, people too tired to even talk. Two weeks later the city is cloudy, fresh and moody.



Half million people, life style well above European average, sun through the clouds and a pretty waterfront. What some would call a good start.


At the end, this Lisbon time was about friends, about walking, about going up and down and up again. It was about sipping coffee with a bite of chocolate, and drinking white wine looking down towards the Ocean. No, that is not the Ocean, it is the Tagus that you are looking at.


Too short a time, it turned out. Enough to visit four or five miradores and the Belem Jeronimo's monastery and to climb the Arch of Augusta street to enjoy the view on Praca do Comercio. Not enough to visit all I wanted to visit at the slow pace we decided to keep.

And certainly not enough to get sick of eating pasteis. Not even close to that.

Calabria felix

Domani un altro sole ci riscalderà, oggi invece ci brucia il sole bollente della costa jonica della Calabria.

La terra del sud forse più bistrattata, quasi terra di mezzo nel regno delle due Sicilie, divisa tra il blu mozzafiato e le architetture devastanti. Ma anche terra di amici eccezionali, bagni di mezzanotte e insalate di polpo indimenticabili.

Wines of Irpinia

Neglected, ignored, unknown to most: travelling to Irpinia for a wine tour is an act of faith in your friends' promise that you won't regret it.

Meeting young people investing in their homeland is refreshing.

Going back home with 600+ bottles is the reassurance that the risk was worth taking.

White beaches

Admittedly I have been struggling a bit to find the right photo for this post. The right palm tree, the right nuance of blue, the right corner among all those white beaches I kept myself busy with. 

Decision fell on this one. I hope you watching it enjoy it as much as I did taking it, on a remote island called Saona, with no electricity, no running water, no phone coverage, but plenty of beauty - and mosquitos.

Make no mistake though, the no-electricity, no-water, no-phone paradise was a day trip. After an unbearably long, dark, cold, interminable, busy as hell winter, with millions of problems to solve and conflicts to mediate, the only spring escape I could conceive was as far as possible from any discomfort.

Next time I might go explore the Asian jungle in a kayak or the African plains in a  Land rover, but tonight it is Jacuzzi time.

A weekend in Bologna

Aperitivo where? Lunch? Can we taste different things at dinner?

No other city trip has been so much about food as this one. Including taking tortellini home as souvenir.

My third time here makes me a kind of local, showing the secret Finestrella di via Piella and climbing the Towers to enjoy the beauty of the red roofs and albeit not really knowing where to go out at night when you are beyond your university times.

One thing fore sure I did know: rent an apartment overlooking Piazza Maggiore and the view would do the rest.

At the end of the world

A bit of a drive from Malaga and a bit too much to squeeze in a day trip. Where Spain and the Earth end, where the good ol' Mediterranean gives way to the open ocean, there lays Cadiz and its pueblos blancos of the frontier.

Narrow old streets, winter-sun kissed (if quite windy) ocean side promenade, hidden courtyard-like squares to have some tapas sitting in the (nevertheless) warm sun or in the shade of some orange tree. And impressive cathedral and bell tower.

For all these reasons, for all the photos which went inadvertently deleted, and for all the other things for which an afternoon was way too short. Sure enough, the Andalusian karma is confirmed in Cadiz: if you did not plan a longer trip, you ought to come back soon again.

A new beginning

Happy 2017 from the heart of Andalusia, hiking down and up the Ponte Nuevo in Ronda, capturing the beauty of the first sunset of the year against a combination of architecture and nature reminding of a different world.

Maybe a world of the future but with a bit of luck the future may start today.