Notes from a small island...

I was not trying to do writing. Just came out. And like any good shit, it came out in one piece. Barely had to wipe.

Here it is. My 'notes from a small island' and how I got to know Stefano...

Fiorino Stefano

       The sea was warm and the sand was burning my feet as I walked out of the water. My blue shorts with white floral motif dripping water and my feet picking up layers of sand. I stood there like an Adonis. Well, it felt like it. I had it all. First day of holiday. Freedom, sun, beach, salty fresh air, and my pale white skin getting the first blush of sunburn. The view was soaking in as my big toe pushed a few rocks into the waves. The beach was running along the mediaeval walls of the old town. Not very busy this time of the year. Summer season was almost over. Just a few tourists, half a dozen of local kids kicking the ball while their mums were engaged in a heated and articulated chat, lifeguard half asleep under his sunbrella and a guy walking up the beach. Barefoot. Few steps in the water few steps out, as the waves came and go. Obviously local, maybe a fisherman I thought. His stained white tee, navy blue shorts faded from the sun, holding his sandals in one hand and securing his straw hat in the breeze with other. Caught my attention immediately. Maybe it was his sixth sense kicking in, maybe I was staring too much, or was I just in his way? He walked up to me. Passed by, looked up as he did so. 'Picture! Picture!', I heard my inner voice shouting. Hated myself for standing there with nothing but a cock in my hands. 'Miss!!!',exhaled the inner voice. 

 

       He turned back. Somewhat unsure he asked a couple of questions. It felt strange because none of the words stuck, so I just blinked my dumb yes and answered 'non capisco'. To this day I belive that means 'I don't understand'. Assuming from what happened next, he didn't either. He started talking to me. Fast. Not always waiting for the words to sink in. Words were accompanied with flapping hands and drawings into the sand. 'He likes to talk', I was thinking while nodding. My Italian sucks donkey balls, but this guy somehow made sense. Was it the drawings in the sand? Or the flapping of his hands? No idea. He told me about Egedi Islands, Eriche, Temples of Segesta, salt pans, Trapani's old town and the astronomical clock in the church tower. He told me that he hangs out around there in the evenings. I can't be sure but it sounded like an invitation. We shook hands and he walked into the see. Washed his feet which by now were wearing the white sandals. Washed his hands and face. Turned back to wave goodbye once again as I was walking back to my girlfriend. She was having a laugh. Apparently the scene was quite surreal. Just then I realised, I forgot to ask his name...

       We have met him that evening. By the church with the astronomical clock. We have met him almost every day afterwards. Some days twice. I later learned his name, Fiorino Stefano. Not sure which is the surname, I just called him Stefano. He always lit up when he seen us and always had stories to tell. Wish I had understood half, and I am sure he knew that we didn't get much. That never stopped him to tell us a story.