Island Living

We visitied Lipari this weekend…

Marina Corta

I had been once before, but with only enough time for a quick look around before going on to Stromboli, where I spent the rest of a fantastic weekend taking photographs of blue doors, reading Treasure Island and daydreaming about pirates.

skull and crossbones

Lipari has had it’s fair share of pirates it turns out, whose attacks eventually prompted the construction of the mighty citadel walls in 1556. The fact that I had to refer to Wikipedia to pass any kind of comment on this once again demonstrates my lamentable lack of knowledge when it comes to history.

I am making an effort to visit all seven islands this year. Having already returned to Stromboli, and spent the day on Vulcano climbing to the crater, that only leaves four to go: Panarea, alledgedly favoured by the rich and famous; Salina, unspoilt and traditional; Filicudi, population down to 250 souls following mass emigration in the 1950s; and Alicudi, end of the line, where mules replace motor vehicles and they’ve only had electricity for 15 years. Peversely, due to the poor state of Italian public transport and our living so close to the port, it is definitely easier and perhaps even quicker to reach this remote place that Palermo, the island’s capital.

from the climb to the crater on Vucano, Lipari in the distance

What am I going to do on an island like Alicudi? On which even the Rough Guide can only muster a paragraph’s description - although this can hardly be Alicudi’s fault, and is probably due to a lack of churches to fill up the page space. The answer is wander, take pictures of the boats, daydream.

little boat on the beach, Lipari

There is something about little boats and island life that attracts me. Maybe it’s all the books I read and loved when I was young: Enid Blyton’s The Secret Island - children runaway from cruel guardians and live self sufficiently by their own wits and talents. Arthur Ransom’s Swallows and Amazons - brave explorers, untrustworthy natives, the jolly roger, pemmican. Jostein Gaarder’s The Solitaire Mystery - shipwrecked sailor and a pack of cards. I want to bring all three back with me after Christmas and read them all over again.

When is one too old to read children’s literature? One of my favourite bloggers wrote a cook book about food from children’s literature - tuck boxes, midnight feasts and the like - the research for which necessitated reading and re-reading titles intended for pre-teenagers. I hope island hopping is as valid an excuse.