And I could finally let out a sigh.
It was as if I ate a large meal, and could unbutton the first part of my jeans and breathe again.
This is what I felt when I walked the streets of Lampedusa. It was a hectic busy 24 hours flying from Malaga to Naples, going to Pompeii, and flying to Lampedusa. The day was filled with a bit of anxiety, travel stress, and tons of stress. I think my body was on guard and tense due to my strict timelines, the heat, and the awareness of the fact that I could not get too comfortable because I would have to move to the next location. I had not arrived yet. But now walking the quiet “main street” of town, I could relax. I didn’t even need to go to the beach yet to feel the chill vibes.
There was a tranquility here. The restaurants placed chairs on the center of the road and closed off the street for the night to begin. Store workers sat in plastic chairs as tourists walked by. Elderly locals looked over their balconies to observe the newest people to visit their island. These photos capture peaceful moments in this Italian Island, which was once considered a Tunisian territory.
It’s a place I don’t know much about. As I tried to youtube video clips, I couldn’t find much. I know Italians vacation here for their summer holidays. But it’s also more well known for something else. When I told a French guy I was coming here, he said “Lampedusa the place where all the migrants go?” This is true, why most people are aware of this area is it is the location that many refugees try to escape to. It’s a gateway to Europe, people from various parts of Africa voyage to Tunisia. And from there the expedition continues. As you are aware, not many people make it.
This past spring, I decided to set the goal of joining TCC (Travel Century Club), to be part of this, I must visit 100 territories, and I want to do this before I turn 50. Since I want to do this, and was flying to Naples already, why not go to Lampedusa? I also will San Marino, while I am at it. So this is what I am doing. Lampedusa marks the 65th territory I have visited.
I am staying in Lampedusa for five nights, and originally I thought this was excessive. The island is only 7 miles long and 2 miles wide. Would I go crazy, could I fly to Tunisia and check off another territory? But now that I am here, my soul is grateful for what has been planned out before me.
I have time to wind down, write, read, and catch up with myself. The slow pace of the locals and the fact that there are minimal tours here, allows me to wander or simply swim in the sea. I could allow myself to simply be, and I wasn’t aware that this is what I was longing for. Even though I am not currently working, I was attending Spanish classes for one month, and was in the midst of applying to jobs in America and going through loads of interviews. I also am taking a mythology class, which I love and was deep in reading the suggested literature. So overall, I was “busy.” It was a busy-ness of choice yes, and not of necessity, but it was still busy.
As I walk the main street, I note the muted spring colors. Things are not as vibrant as the electricity in hues of Miami or the blue white tranquility of Santorini. There’s a sense of humbleness, in the toned down colors of the building. They are not trying to be anything spectacular or Instagram worthy, they just are. In some ways this a beach Mediterranean island which would be featured in a Wes Anderson film. There are characters that exist here: in the locals that never left the island, the refugees that have fled here, and the vacationers they serve. I’m not sure what the storyline is yet, and maybe it would be a film of an everyday life on this quiet picturesque place, which has yet to been bombarded by excessive crowds.
The days pass, and I note the same people on the street. They notice me and wave. There’s the older sailor man who sails spices, the family who opened a new restaurant serving fresh fish burgers, the Thai and Italian family selling gorgeous clothes, and the local elderly couple who probably own the hotel I am staying in who sit on the couch every afternoon to watch the guests.
The slow pace has allowed me to linger. I walked throughout much of the bottom half of the island, swam in numerous seas, laid on rocks in the style of Barbarella, and had time to write. I appreciate that Lampedusa hasn’t gotten all the acclaim yet. It’s as if I stepped back in time, and could find not just another culture but a more relaxed version of myself I have lost.
It Only Takes A Smile 