Arriving in Italy, especially the southern part, is like arriving home. The same chaos awaits. Unruly lines, people yelling, general confusion — you get the idea. And Sicily is definitely like being back in India. The locals even look like us!
We landed in Sicily to catch a boat to the Aeolian archipelago, a cluster of seven islands. These ‘seven sisters’ include Lipari, Vulcano, Salina, Alicudi, Filicudi, Panarea and Stromboli. Their year-round populations vary from 300 to 4,000, depending on the island. But during the summer, tourist season, this swells to 2,00,000.
The islands are remote and painful to reach. Alicudi is traversed mainly by donkey.
We first visited seven years ago, and although we loved the natural beauty, we vowed never to return because of how tricky the islands were to access. Famous last words. Now here we were, back again for the third time. This year, it was to Salina (the brilliant 1994 movie Il Postino was filmed here) for our friend Rohan Parikh’s 40th birthday (#friendslikefamily). Cecilia, his wife, who is half-Italian and half-French, had organised a two-night, three-day extravaganza at the stunningly-situated Capofaro Locanda resort.
Straight out of a movie set, with sloping vineyards set against the backdrop of sweeping sea views, the 11-acre, 27-room property was abloom in bougainvillea when we got there. Our original plan of climbing the active volcano in nearby Stromboli had gone kaput because of high winds, due to which boat service to that island were interrupted.
Salina has two extinct volcanoes and great trekking. Cecilia organised for us to go on two treks with Emmanuelle Bottaeri, a vastly-knowledgeable guide who has been leading hikes in the area for decades. We climbed the nature park Montagne delle Felci, stopping along the way to smell fresh lavender, fennel, basil and other herbs. On the second trek, we braved brambles to reach an abandoned house, which is used by olive pickers during the harvesting seasons. Salina is known for its large, sweet capers and olives as well as the Malvasia grape, used for wine making. I was amazed at the size of the capers, totally unlike the tiny things one finds in bottles in supermarkets.
Cecilia had strict dress codes for the party and there was considerable angst amongst her friends about what to wear. Basically one had to channel one’s inner Sophia Loren and show up glamorous, but in a nonchalant way. Confused? So was I. Despite the consternation, people looked fabulous throughout the weekend festivities. In the run up to the birthday celebrations, we even managed to turn a sleepy pizzeria into a pulsating night club — the owner procured a huge speaker from the innards of his store room. Suffice it to say that I don’t think Salina has seen this much action since the making of Il Postino. On another day, we rented a boat to go visit Vulcano for lunch. Along the way, many brave-hearts amongst us jumped into the freezing blue sea. Needless to say, I wasn't amongst them.
Amongst the other guests at the party were a wonderful group of Israelis, as well as the Italian clothing designer Marta Ferri, who creates beautiful custom-made dresses in her Milan atelier. With her swan neck, prominently set off against her short hair, and casually elegant air, Marta is in the mould of the late Marella Agnelli, Italy’s ultimate style icon. She and her husband Carlo love India; on their last trip, they drove the length and breadth of Gujarat.
As the weekend drew to a close, and we got ready to leave, it began to pour incessantly. A precursor to the monsoon that has now hit our Mumbai shores, it seemed the right way to say goodbye to this magical part of the world.
This fortnightly column tracks the indulgent pursuits of the one-percenters.
