Islas Lípari / Eólicas :: Comparisson reports

As we write these lines, we’re leaving the Aeolian Islands, but our adventures based on Archduke Ludwig Salvator’s work have only just begun. There are still five years ahead of us dedicated to gathering data on numerous destinations.

The Aeolian Islands have made a strong impression on us, and, yet, other sensations arise, albeit more weakly. Perhaps they will become more defined as we visit other destinations.

Having left Lipari Island, we’re near Filicudi, and our first emotions are mixed:

• The last few days on these marvellous islands have left us with an extraordinary sensation stemming from the mix between all that’s new and all that’s traditional; a sea of history, characteristic of the area around Sicily, surrounds us.
• We’re also taking the image of its wild, volcanic beauty with us, an inseparable contrast to the intense blue of the Mediterranean.
• And, lastly, we’re beginning to miss the friendly people, those we met and the great friends we have made in the last few weeks.

Before leaving, we said goodbye to Robi Archetti and Claudio in Pignataro Port (precisely where the Archduke wanted to buy a home). What a big help they were! We owe them a large part of what we were able to do on the islands.

We also talked to Bárbara Calabresi and Gloria who helped us so much when we were on Panarea and Stromboli.

We began our trip back home, and, now, our view of the Aeolian Islands is very different. We remember the illusion and excitement with which we published our first video, “the seven Aeolian Islands” (see our blog, “Day 8” at www.nixe3.com), a video taken from the exact spot where we now find ourselves. At that moment, we were about to make a qualitative leap, a leap which starts with an image you’ve dreamt of and then the reality you are about to experience, a dream we all created when reading a book and which was obviously inspired by Archduke Ludwig Salvator himself. It is a dream which, at times, is shattered into pieces when confronted by reality, as Proust described with such detail in “In Search of Lost Time.” Or, perhaps it is an all too short dream because reality takes us even further, as happened to us with the Aeolian Islands.

Vulcano is fading in the back, though majestic Salina is still visible. Lipari in the centre is lit up by the typical white of one of its pumice stone mountains. The sea mist makes Panarea and Stromboli simple sighs in our memory. A dear friend, Carmen Anguís, who had already visited the islands, told us before we headed here, “Don’t forget to pay your respects to Canna.” Now we understand the full meaning of her recommendations. You can only pay your respects to Canna when leaving, after this outcrop has allowed you to admire it up close. When arriving, you can only intuit its power; you don’t dare utter a word.

We were also surprised by the sea. When we arrived, it wasn’t at all clear what it would be like; it was an unknown and, at the same time, a little rough after days of the maestrale wind blowing (see “Day 16” in our blog for a brief description on the origins of the compass rose as explained by an old Venetian professor we met on Salina). On leaving, however, the sea is docile, with a light breeze, very close and familiar. Will all the Mediterranean one day be as familiar to us? Did this sea become the Archduke’s one and only true home?

By one of those coincidences, we came across Joseph Conrad’s “The Mirror of the Sea” when buying nautical charts at the Nautical Library in Barcelona. The latter is located on Fusteria Street and which, like all the ancient trades, is unavoidably associated to that city’s beautiful Gothic Quarter. As such, our leaving is also impregnated by the truest and most authentic Conrad. Arrivals and departures, the art of sailing, easterly and westerly winds, ending in a confused rush of emotions.

Upon reaching Mallorca, another thought emerged when we first spotted the island’s Capdepera coast. How many times have we seen that coast? Had we ever observed it with the same level of detail? The images are the same as always, but perhaps, subtly, we have begun to see them with slightly different eyes.

We have gone from dreams to reality, with all the emotions in between, and perhaps attained new ways of seeing and interpreting the reality before our eyes. Perhaps this is the direction of our path or, perhaps, as Conrad suggests, we will end up no longer distinguishing between arrivals and departures. Perhaps, too, our dreams, emotions and reality will simply and irremediably intertwine. In any case, it is another qualitative leap we will have to experience one day.