When my dear “sciurma” from Palermo said to me, “we are waiting for a date for you to organize one of your sea adventures with us,” it seemed like I could hear a volcano roaring in the distance. It was surely Stromboli celebrating our upcoming visit.
Knowing my Sicilian friends, I could already imagine that the trip through the Aeolian Islands would turn into a week of “follia” at sea. And so it was: we experienced storms, erupting volcanoes, night sailing with a scirocco that left you in your underwear, the best dinners prepared by the fisherman cousins, anchors that jumped at night, and toasts at dawn. Long live the god Aeolus!
