What I remember about Stromboli is the blistering heat, the blazing black beach that you had to walk on carefully – step by step to avoid burning your feet...
A new chapter of #awalkwithMarco starts today, a chapter dedicated to summer. Destination: the islands.
From Stromboli to Carloforte, La Maddalena to Ponza, I’ll tell you all about the Mediterranean charm that the Italian islands exude. Or at least, the ones I have visited over the course of my (now long!) lifetime.
I might be able to inspire you for an upcoming holiday. I would love it if I could. After all, it’d be a great way to go for a walk together... ;)
As I way saying, what I remember about Stromboli is the blistering heat...
On the beach at Ficogrande, my flip-flops couldn’t keep the red-hot sand from getting under my feet. Much more than sand in fact, more like a kind of black dust that was impossible to even roll out a towel on: a grill!
So, we hired a dinghy with a 4 hp motor – we were kids, we had to save money. Slowly, without gliding, we reached Strombolicchio, the rocky islet that faces Stromboli: also pitch-black, like a splash of lava floating on the surface of the water. I remember, at long last, having a refreshing swim, the deep blue sea, being afraid to look underwater (after all, I’m not an aquatic animal)...
What I remember about that holiday at Stromboli is the intoxicating scent of flowers, as well as branches of bougainvillea rising over the walls of private gardens, along the road from the sea up to San Vincenzo.
I also remember the volcano with its plume of smoke: a watchtower looming over our heads, its sheer rock faces stretching into the water. We climbed it after sunset, once the heat had finally died down, my friends and I following in procession behind the expert guide – absolutely necessary!
From up there, everything takes on a different meaning. You’re on ropes, your steps slow over ground devoid of all plant life – but still there’s that black dust, still red hot. Here and there you see craters, smoke, fire: yes, still hot, unrelentingly hot. A landscape that is both eerie and fascinating at the same time: everything is bleak, and yet everything is alive, the earth simmers below your feet, muttering, rumbling...
It wasn’t until I came home from that holiday at Stromboli that I discovered I had just been through some of the hottest days ever recorded. I should go back in winter... I will one day.
Perhaps it’s the heat of these past few weeks that has brought back memories of those days on the Aeolian Islands. It’s going to be a long hot summer, according to the experts. But I like the idea of spending it together.