Bellissima Salina

It was one of those lazy mornings when all I wanted to do was lie in bed and rot but Carl nagged and got me loading my backpack for l'isola di Salina. I alighted at the S. Marina port and took the blue bus to the other side of the isle Rinella, figuring it'd be a great way to see the small towns like Malfa and Leni on the way.

Salina was the 2nd biggest Eolie island but also the highest and greenest, evident from the lush Malvasia grape, caper, olive and wild cacti cultivation. The roads were winding and we all held our breath as the jovial, comedic bus driver sang and whistled aloud while happily manouvering the bus around the sharp corners.

I asked him to drop me off at a cheap camere where I bargained with the old man pleading with my sad puppy look and got the price down from 40 to 35 euros a night. Yay! A late morning cafe latte and chat with the voluptous Romanian waitress later, I made my way to the nearby secluded spaggia (beach) and made friends with the bubbly Elena and Alberto from Milano who were honeymooning in Sicily. Elena was my age, worked for a big English bank and thus spoke excellent Inglese. We yakked like longtime girlfriends in the fresco mare (cool sea), trying not to slip on the polished pebbles and keeping an eagle eye out for any Medussa.

Soon, they got hungry and rode off on their scooter while I waited 15mins for the bus to Pollara but got impatient and decided to hitch a ride instead. The rough-looking Marcello obliged saying he was going there too and I made some polite conversation while he chain-smoked. I was wary if he was to be trusted but to his credit, he was kind enough to stop for photo-opps and led me to the jaw-dropping Pollara bay, made up of a partly collapsed ancient crater.

I couldn't wait to take off my clothes and jump into the deep gorge but I could feel his eyes burning into my back as we sat there on the rough volcanic bay in silence. I waited 15mins and watched him perspire and melt under the intense sun before leaping in with a 'non mi aspetti!' (don't wait for me). He got the hint 20mins later and left when I ignored him and played hide-and-seek with the tiny colourful fishes attracted to my flowing mane in the crystal clear water.

Later I climbed into the backyard of Casa Pablo, the location of the famous Italiano film 'Il Postino', seeing that its front gate was locked (it's apparently available for rent). On my way down, I slipped and bloodied my big right toe on a rock and laughed myself silly! In any case, it was worth the picture and gloating to friends that I trespassed the property!

On the way up the slope to the piazza, two men ogled at me unaware that I was limping slightly. A snacks kiosk was blaring loud techno music and I joined 4 bored tourists, a sleeping dog and the lady kiosk-owner as her son kicked the football idly around the church square. On the bus, I had a good chuckle talking to the local pregnant auntie, her 2 young daughters and the hilarious 35 year-old driver (a deadringer to the actor in Il Postino!), who shook his head saying it was such a shame for a young lady to travel alone. Perche?!