I admit I am writing this article in a nostalgic mood, which has been woken up by a word that I accidentally read on a nice blog (this one): climb.

As our reader may know, Biljana and I have been passing summer holidays together in Siracusa, in the southest part of Sicily. Siracusa is a nice little town, perfect mix of history, culture and great nature and seaside, one of the best of Sicily. I adore the rocks which falls in the sea of Siracusa, from which I have been diving, into the blue water since I have memory.

I use to walk on these rocks (I know them one by one!) with nude feet and no fear and I feel confortable diving and swimming for hours. Some may say that this is natural for a “seaside guy”, for someone born in a island, for someone who has seen the snow (the real one!) just once (at least, this is my only memory) in 1981. “Seaside guy”, Biljana was calling me while I was candidly smiling at her funny (funny for a seaside guy!) “mountain” way of swimming.

I wasn’t aware yet that the time of her revenge was close and that it would have come fast and unfailingly.

Near Siracusa, there is a little village, called Avola, and near Avola, high on the hills, ancient Avola, the rest of the village destroyed by a big heartquake in 1639. Well, near ancient Avola, and I swear I am getting to the point, one of the most fascinating places in Sicily, the little lakes of Cavagrande del Cassibile. They are part of a big natural reserve and reacheable by 45 minutes “climbing” through the hills.

We obviously organized an outdoor trip to show them to Biljana and making “something different” than swimming, at least for one day.

Biljana had not good shoes for the climb (she forgot her sneakers in Macedonia while brought (women!) just high heels shoes and thongs for the beach) so she was even disadvantaged compared to the excellent mise of perfect climber I was showing off.

As you can easily imagine, I failed miserely. Suffered a lot, sweated, stopped one hundred times, while she was candidly smiling at me (yes, just like I did to her till the day before), trying to teach me how to walk (and breathe, it looks like I am not breathing good) at the mountain, definetely, how to climb.
I was trying to avoid her happy and unbearable glance and walk, without complaining too much, not even when she was telling me about her usual walks every sunday in Vodno, the mountain upon Skopje.

But there is something that I haven’t ever told her and that she really needs to know: I loved her lightness, her particular way of jumping stone to stone, her lightness-of-being-mountain-girl in her natural habitat which is totally different from my one.

That was the time I realized, once more, the richness of our relationship, which is existing on a very fragile (as fragile as powerful) balance, just the one that is strongly joining a mountain girl and a seaside guy.

Ps for Eric: Cu va a ligna a cava ranni, ncoddu a sciri.

Ps for Miru: tutto questo verde delle foto mi fa pensare ad un altro bellissimo film, Le rayon verte, ah!

Ps for Mile: we stole some of your pics to show the Vodno mountain, I hope you’ll not dislike it!