Un’estate, un’avventura in più

August 15, 2011
Blog #12



Un’estate, un’avventura in più

The Mediterranean Sea brings a wind that bounces off the mountain side, masks the heat of the blazing sun, and lands on my face as I sit here and write. After 5 weeks of travel, I’m finally in Sicily, staring at the same backdrop from my very first entry. The beach is crowded with people, but I’m all alone up on this terrace. My mind is empty and full at the same time, kind of like this land in a way. Lots of clusters overflowing with buildings, people, and noise, then miles and miles of nothing. That’s how I feel right now. When I look at the view I quiet my mind. I close my eyes and feel the hot and cool sensations, the sand on my feet, the sounds of the ocean, the distant buzz of music. When I open my eyes, I see my laptop in front of me, the mess I have to clean up, my Heineken making a puddle of condensation on the table. If only I could keep them closed and be oblivious.

It has truly been un’estate italiana, an Italian summer. More of an expression than just words. Describing it is not sufficient, and the experience will vary person to person. But the one thing that we all share is the power it has to call you back. I know I’ll always return. They believe this land is cursed here in Sicily; terra brusciata. I’m usually not one to believe in things like that, but there might be some truth to this power. Maybe cursed isn’t the right word. I believe it has something to due with having roots here, standing at the crossroads of civilizations and time periods, being tied to the blood, sweat and tears in the soil. Maybe it’s the paradoxes that intrigue me; a culture that can be so ugly and beautiful at the same time. A bad romance that you must give into.

My first entry was titled Chi vuole poesia, venga in Sicilia; those who seek poetry come to Sicily. Until this moment I didn’t understand the irony of this phrase which is poetry within itself. It’s not referring to a beautiful place of magic that inspires sonnets and works of art. Although it can be. It’s referring to place so powerful and weak, so beautiful and ugly, so rich and poor…..how can these contradictions not inspire poetry. They scream to be expressed. To be written, painted, drawn, put to music. These same contradictions exist within me, perhaps in all of us. They desire to be resolved, because that’s what society has shaped me to think. You can be a career woman or have a family. You can continue to see the world or you can settle down, etc. Then I wonder; can the girl of contradictions exist in the land of contradictions? They cancel each other out and what is left? It becomes a life where my eyes are sometimes open and sometimes closed.

Jackie <3