Southward bound

In my favourite shop yesterday, called Sud Est ( I must find out why it is called that – makes me think of the Sirocco wind which comes from the South west). It sells the most beautiful clothes and jewellry, all of an elegant ethnic style, or boho-chic I suppose you would call it, and they have beautiful clothes for summer and seaside living. It is where I go directly when I want to buy a gift for someone.

The owner recognised me and asked me if I liked living in Milazzo. I said I did, and she seemed curious. “Imagine, who would have thought it? Love brought you here.” Locals adore these romantic notions though I always point out that my husband and I met in Tuscany and coming here was actually a compromise! “From northern Europe to the very South,” she continued musing, nonplussed.

I thought about that later. I never think it strange that I live here. I don’t say “ended up” because I’m not so sure our travelling days are over, my husband still has itchy feet, especially when things aren’t good here, like when the skips overflow with rubbish, or he considers our son’s education. He frequently tells visitors that I am the happiest one here. And in that sense, as much as the smelly skips bother me, I do think I was destined for the South. It started with my love affair with Spain (unquenchable, ongoing), continued with my wanderings in South America, and finally brought me to the Sicilian who would take me South from Tuscany.

I remember a classmate at university making fun of me in a Spanish seminar once. He wrote in Spanish on my page, “I am a daughter of the Mediterranean, and I will live in a little house by the sea, surrounded by lemon trees and olive groves.” Not far wrong…