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.

That time of the year again

It is that time of the year again.

The time when you cannot decide what gives you less melancholy: a shorter day but still full of southern lights and warmth, or a still long but chillier day.

The time when "still" is the word which populates most of your thoughts. When you do not want to surrender to the slow twilight towards winter or to let go of the summer hopes. And dreams.

Or when sometimes you cannot decide whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune, or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles, and by opposing end them.
In reality, of course, hopes and dreams are already gone. And in reality, a good intake of Magnesium and Vitamin C is all you need.

A small town

There is a place - far away - where you are not supposed to walk, not even for short distances. And the most you may ever need to walk there is probably 800 metres.

If you walk, you will enjoy it, until some stranger will inevitably offer you a lift - for they will know where you are going anyway. You may have to make up an excuse to decline the offer of borrowing someone's car altogether.

And it is not just about the car. In that place, everyday someone will want to offer you a coffee, a drink or a bite. And you are not supposed to decline, lest get people offended.

It is funny, because in that place you can walk alone at dusk on a dark road leading to the cemetery without feeling any kind of fear.

Nor will you fear driving all alone in complete darkness across desolated crop fields, occasionally letting the engine die at a steep bent while staring at the moonlight shadows. Even storms and winds are somehow reassuring sounds there.

And life passes between running away from there and waiting to go back again.

Let it shine, just one more time

 St. Martin's summer coming earlier due to the latitude? Veering winds? Gobal warming? Whatever, it was a great October day. 

On a busy working day, obviously. Just like a free ride when you've already paid.

Idyllic also the park and not crowded like in the "real" summer (note for the reader: real summer in Brussels = towards end July, after weeks of rain and 15 °C max, one afternoon the sky suddenly turns blue, the city starts smiling and despite the grass is still wet everyone feels compelled to go to the park and sit in the sun, possibly with some sun screen just to be safe - as if the sun up here would actually tan you)

A solitary nun, a few single parents with their babies, some teen-age couples on the grass, two secret lovers kissing in the shadow of a tree - too much passion to be legitimate.

And the leaves that kept falling.

Tomorrow it will already be -1 °C, soon there will be no more leaves and no more lovers in the park. 

Where will I be then? Maybe in a place where the sun shines. Just one more time