I hug Carlo tighter as our scooter curves along the jagged coastline. Part of me wants to close my eyes so that I can’t see how close we are to the edge of the road. But it doesn’t matter since it’s so dark and I can’t see much anyway. I decide to try and relax and trust Carlo.
Before I know it, Carlo slows the scooter as we approach a small stone structure. A lantern hangs outside, to the side of the door. I then see another similar structure about fifty feet away, also with just a lantern hanging outside. Carlo gets off the scooter, and then helps me off.
“Are these rentals?”
“No, they’re people’s homes. Since not many tourists come here, there are few rentals. I asked Michele if he knew anyone on the island who would be willing to give us even a room for the weekend. We lucked out. The owners of this house are quite elderly. Their children are all grown and live in Messina and Palermo. They have a few rooms, and said we could have the entire second level to ourselves if we wanted. Of course, I offered to pay them more.”
“There’s a second level? The house looks so small from the outside.”
“It’s too dark for you to see, but it extends quite a bit to the back.”
“You didn’t have to spend all that money to rent the entire second floor, Carlo. One room would’ve been enough. We’ll only be here for one night.”
“I know. But I wanted you to be comfortable.”
“I don’t need much, Carlo. I know you’re accustomed to . . . a more spacious lifestyle.”
Carlo laughs. “You can say it, Sarina. I am a spoiled rich brat.” “No, that’s not what I meant. Though you did grow up with money, you are so different from the other wealthy people I’ve seen in Taormina and even in Lipari and when we were in Panarea. I know you would be happy even if you found yourself poor someday.”
Carlo walks over to me and takes my face in his hands and then kisses me lightly on the cheeks.
“Grazie, Sarina.”
“For what?”
“Thank you for seeing who I truly am. Thank you for not judging me based on who my father is and where I came from.”
“I would never judge someone without knowing him or her first.”
“I believe that. Now, let’s head inside. I’m sure our landlords must be wondering where we are. They tend to go to bed quite early on this island.”
Carlo takes my hand and leads me to the house. Before we make it to the front door, an elderly man and woman come out. The man is holding a very large lantern. The woman wraps a shawl around her shoulders. There has been a constant breeze since we got off the ferry.
“Buonasera.” The man walks over to Carlo and shakes his hand.
“Mi chiamo Gregorio. Questa è la mia moglie, Ivana.”
“Piacere. I am Carlo. My wife, Sarina.” Carlo gestures toward me.
“Piacere, signore, signora.” I nod my head in their direction. It still feels odd for me whenever I hear Carlo refer to me as his wife.
As if reading my thoughts, the old lady, I notice, immediately looks at my left hand. No doubt she wants to ensure that we really are married. I cannot help but wonder if they ever had a couple who wasn’t married try to stay with them.
“Thank you for letting us rent your rooms. I know it was short notice,” Carlo says.
“Eh! We rarely have boarders so it was no trouble. Come. You must be tired.”
Once Gregorio and Ivana turn their backs to us, leading us indoors, Carlo looks at me and smiles. I know he is thinking what I am. Gregorio and Ivana are the ones who are tired and can’t wait to go to sleep.
The house has a rustic charm. It almost reminds me of my family’s home, but ours did not have a second level. Gregorio leads us up a narrow, very steep staircase. We then walk down a long corridor. He explains that his bedroom is to the front of the house while ours is to the back. He then looks over his shoulder and winks at Carlo. My face reddens immediately.
We will have three rooms to ourselves—our bedroom, bathroom, and a small room with a sitting area. Again, I mentally chide Carlo for paying extra money since I doubt we’ll use the last room. We’ll be exploring Filicudi all day tomorrow and then returning to Lipari.
“I’ve placed fresh towels in your bathroom. I will change your sheets in the morning after you leave.”
I didn’t even hear Ivana coming up from behind me.
“Grazie, signora.”
“You can join us for breakfast if you like. We eat at seven a.m., but we understand if you wish to wake up later. I can leave some food out for you if you decide to sleep in,” Ivana adds.
“Thank you. We want to see as much of Filicudi as we can since tomorrow will be our last day here, so we’ll be up early, too. We would love to have breakfast with you.” Carlo smiles.
“Good. Good. Buonanotte!” Gregorio waves before he heads back down the stairs with Ivana.
The next morning, after we have breakfast, we are back on our scooter and on our way to Capo Graziano, the site where excavations of two Bronze Age settlements lie. Now that it is day, I can see Filicudi’s gorgeous landscape with its dramatic cliffs and rocky terrains that hug the coastline. I can even make out paths that seem to run straight down to the beach.
“Do you see all these paths leading to the beach?” Carlo shouts to me above the scooter’s din.
“Yes, I see them.”
“The locals call them ‘sciare.’ The paths were carved into the rock by eruptions from the island’s volcanoes before they became dormant.”
Once again, another Aeolian Island manages to captivate me with its beauty and long history. As we approach the Capo Graziano, I realize we saw maybe three people on the road, and all of them were on foot. Filicudi’s tranquility is very soothing. There is almost a spiritual aura here. I remember once a monk, who was visiting from northern Italy, spoke to the congregation at the church where my family and I attended Sunday Mass. He told us that God is not just found in church or in the Bible, but everywhere, especially in nature and when there is nothing but silence surrounding us. I was only eleven when I heard the monk speak, and I didn’t quite know what he meant by being able to find God when silence surrounds us. But now, as the monk’s words come back to me, I fully understand what he meant.
After visiting the Bronze Age excavations, we walk along the two beaches that are on either side of Capo Graziano—Spiaggia del Porto and Spiaggia di Pecorini. Both are pebbly beaches. No sandy beaches exist on Filicudi. Since it is still quite early in the morning, the sun isn’t beating down on us yet, and there is a light breeze as we walk hand in hand along the shoreline. As we approach the northern end of the island, we come across a huge basalt rock called Giafante, which means elephant in the Sicilian dialect.
About two hours later, as the sun and humidity get higher, we can’t take the heat, so Carlo asks a fisherman who is getting ready to set out if we can catch a ride with him. The fisherman seems to be glad to have the company and begins chatting away.
“Have you heard of the Grotta del Bue Marino?” Carlo asks me.
“Yes. My cousin Agata used to say she wanted to go someday with her prince. She had learned of it in school and seen photographs. She told me it looked very romantic.”
Carlo laughs. “It is. But the one time I went there, I was just a boy and had no princess. Now I do.” Carlo puts his arm around me. I blush when I see the fisherman has overheard Carlo and is looking at me and smiling.
There are countless caves along Filicudi’s coastline, but the Grotta del Bue Marino is the most famous as Carlo explains.
“Wait until we swim into it!”
Carlo’s face beams much like a schoolboy’s. I’m touched by his apparent happiness over introducing new things to me.
After we dive into the water, the fisherman tells us he will come back for us in about half an hour. We wave to him as his boat jets away.
Carlo and I swim slowly toward the cave’s opening. We are the only ones here, and again I’m amazed by the intense serene atmosphere
this unique island affords us. Carlo enters the cave first, waiting for me to catch up. When I do, he senses my hesitation and beckons me toward him by waving his hand.
“You don’t like small spaces, do you?”
“It’s just so dark in here.”
“You’ll be fine.”
I follow Carlo deeper into the cave. A low moaning sound reaches my ears. I almost jump out of my skin. I ask Carlo nervously, “What is that?”
Carlo laughs. “It’s just the sound of the waves echoing in here. Actually, the sound of the waves is how the cave got its name Grotto del Bue Marino, or the Cave of the Sea Ox—because the echoes sound like oxen.”
Relieved that there isn’t some unknown creature with us in the cave, I relax. Once I get accustomed to the echoes, I realize the sounds can be soothing.
Suddenly, the color of the water inside the cave becomes an extraordinary shade of turquoise. Carlo turns around and smiles once he notices the look of awe on my face.
“No wonder you wanted to take me here, Carlo. It’s absolutely breathtaking.”
“It is.”
We tread water, basking in the glow of the cave’s light. Carlo comes closer to me.
“Wrap your legs around my waist. I want to hold you.”
I do as Carlo instructs. We kiss for a long time. Our kisses become more heated; Carlo holds me tightly to him. I kiss the side of his neck. Without warning, he drops me into the water. I come up for air, choking a bit. He’s laughing. I splash water his way and try to jump on top of him so I can push him down beneath the surface. But I don’t have the strength. He catches me, and I squirm against him, trying to break free. He stills me by kissing me again.
We let our bodies float so we can relax and hold hands, staring up into the cave’s darkness.
“I wish I had thought to bring you here last month. That’s when the Festa del Mare happens. It’s a beautiful feast. A candlelit procession of boats come to this cave. And then a statue of Eolus is dropped onto the seafloor.”
“We’ll just have to come back next year.” I turn my head toward Carlo. He turns toward me and smiles.
“Si. You will be my wife then. We can make it our luna di miele—our honeymoon—although we’d have to delay it if we still plan on getting married in a few months.”
My stomach flutters at the mention of our wedding. I don’t say anything and close my eyes, pretending that I am resting.
The time flies by, and we make our way out of the cave and wait for the fisherman to pick us up. He drops us off at the Filicudi Porto, but not before giving us a small bundle of sardines from his morning’s catch. We thank him.
“I guess we’ll have to take these back to our lodgings since we have no way of cooking them ourselves. It’ll be a gift for our hosts. I’m sure they’ll invite us to eat our midday meal with them anyway.”
As we make our way back to Gregorio and Ivana’s house, the clouds are moving in, so that by the time we reach our destination, the skies are no longer sunny. The air is now stifling with an unbearable humidity, and the wind has picked up.
“Let’s hope we’re just in for a passing shower. We’ll have to wait until it’s over to take our ferry back to Lipari this evening.”
But a few hours later, a series of raging thunderstorms are battering the island.
“Even if the storm lets up soon, the ferry service will most likely be suspended. The waters will still be too rough to traverse. You might as well plan on staying here for the night,” Gregorio warns us.
“That’s all right. It gives us an excuse to spend another night in paradise.”
Carlo looks at me. I notice Ivana is smiling, but she acts like she hasn’t heard Carlo as she busies herself washing the dishes from our meal. She made Pasta alla Norma, a pasta dish with eggplant and a salty ricotta cheese. She also prepared the sardines the fisherman gave us by stuffing them with breadcrumbs. My mother used to make sardines this way as well.
Carlo and I spend the rest of the afternoon and early evening in the room with the sitting area. I guess it came in handy after all. We dip hazelnut biscotti, which Ivana baked, into small flutes of Vin Santo, a sweet dessert wine. Gregorio and Ivana are taking their siesta. Carlo and I have become accustomed to foregoing our siestas so we can spend more time together, whether it’s back home in Lipari or when we’ve explored other islands.
We watch the rain and lightning storm that is playing outside our window. It looks quite striking.
A few hours later, I am awakened by Carlo’s shaking my shoulder. I’m still sitting in the settee where Carlo and I were watching the rain.
“What time is it?”
“It’s a little past eight o’clock. I didn’t want to disturb you, so I had a little snack with Gregorio and Ivana. She gave me this panino for you and a few figs and cactus pears.”
“You should have woken me up, Carlo. Gregorio and Ivana must think I’m lazy.”
“Nonsense. They know we didn’t take a siesta and assume that’s why you fell asleep later. They’ve already gone to bed for the night.”
“I wonder how early they wake up,” I say as I bite into my panino that has mortadella and Provoletta. “Hmmm. This is so good.”
“Gregorio told me he wakes up shortly before four a.m. to begin fishing. Ivana wakes up with him so she can prepare his breakfast.”
After I’m done eating, we decide to go to bed early so we can catch the first ferry back to Lipari in the morning. But since I took a nap, sleep eludes me.
“Are you awake?” I ask Carlo.
“Yes. I’m not used to going to bed at nine o’clock. Besides, this heavy rain is also keeping me up. I can’t believe it’s still pouring.”
I sit up in bed. “Well, there’s no use pretending to sleep if we can’t.”
“Let’s go out.”
“In this deluge?” My eyes open wide in disbelief at Carlo’s suggestion.
“It’ll be fun. Come on. We can tell our children and grandchildren someday how we walked in a wild thunderstorm on the abysmally dark island of Filicudi.”
Carlo always has a way of making me feel like we’re on an adventure even when we’re going about our mundane daily routines. It’s one of the things I love so much about him. I asked him the other day if he had any gypsy blood in him since his carefree, live-in-the-moment demeanor reminds me of Maria and her family’s approach to life.
“I can never say no to you.” I lightly kiss Carlo on the lips.
“That’s what I like to hear.”
We grab the lantern from our sitting room and quietly tiptoe down the stairs so we don’t wake up Gregorio and Ivana. We don’t even have light jackets or umbrellas. But we don’t care.
Once outside, we make our way toward the water. Carlo leads of course since he has a better sense of direction in the dark than I do. By the time we reach the beach, we’re absolutely soaked.
“I think we can turn around now,” I say.
Suddenly, I realize just how insane our idea to come out here was, and I can’t stop laughing. Carlo joins me. He holds the lantern with one hand and keeps the other arm wrapped around my shoulders. His face glows in the light of the lantern. He kisses me, and in this moment, I feel everything—the heavy rain pelting us, our wet clothes clinging to our skin, the warmth of Carlo’s lips pressed against mine, the rapid beating of our hearts, the smell of the sea, the pebbles from the beach that have slipped into my sandals.
“Ti voglio bene, Sarina, per sempre.”
“I love you forever, too, Carlo.”
“Look, the rain is letting up! The gods must’ve looked down on us and felt bad that we were being drenched and decided to show us some mercy.”
“Maybe. But I would wait until we know for certain the rain will completely stop,” I laugh.
“Let’s walk along the shoreline. There’s something about being cloaked in this eerie darkness that I love.”
“That’s funny. I feel the same way. It’s as if no one can see us. It’
s very comforting.”
“Well, no one can see us on Filicudi. This island is practically a ghost town.”
“That’s part of its charm.”
We walk along the shoreline with our arms wrapped around each other’s waists. It’s now stopped raining. The only light to guide our way is Carlo’s lantern. But soon, we catch a glimpse of light coming from the other side of the sea, peeking beneath the clouds, which are slowly beginning to lift.
“It’s the moon rising.” Carlo points to it. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen the moon rise before. Let’s wait and watch.”
Like a sheer white curtain, the veil of filmy clouds slowly lifts, revealing more of the moon. And soon the beach is lit from the moon’s glow.
“The moon looks enormous tonight.” I rub my hands over my arms. A light breeze is coming off the water. The humidity from earlier has completely faded now that the storm is over.
“I wish we had a blanket so we could spend the night here,” Carlo says.
Once the moon has fully risen, we decide to return to our room. Our path on the beach is lit much more now thanks to the moon. But the farther away from the beach we get, the darker it becomes again.
When we reach our bedroom, I light the two candles on our night table.
“I can keep the lantern on if you want more light, Sarina.”
“No, turn it off. I like the candlelight better.”
Carlo turns off the lantern. While he has his back turned to me, I begin taking my clothes off, but instead of slipping into my nightgown I remain naked. I wait for Carlo to turn around.
“I’m definitely ready for sleep now. But first . . .” Carlo’s voice trails off when he sees me naked.
Though we’ve shared a bed, I’ve never changed in front of him. His eyes wander slowly down my body. As his eyes make contact with each part of my body, it’s as if he is touching me in that particular spot.
“I’m sorry, Sarina. I thought you had changed already.” Carlo turns back around, but I step over to him, placing my hands on his shoulders.
Stella Mia Page 21
