I have followed a blogger, the photos and text that she has posted are all about my dream summer.
Summer in southern Italy is very, very long, so we are lucky enough to still get a sense of summer in late September. She said that Italian summers are hot, unforgettable, come and go suddenly. Just like this 12-day journey, engraved in memory, it resurfaces again and again with the arrival of summer.
Rome left me the most impressive night scene.
Still remember the exploration of the street completed by tens of thousands of steps on the second night, and saw too many enchanting moments, so I was still feeling everything was worth it after I returned to the hotel, even though I’m really tired.
The night lights on the street gradually lit up, and the yellow paint painted on the rough stone walls softened in the glow of the scattered strings of lamps. The open parasol stands silent in the darkness, quietly watching the couple smile at each other, kissing after the crisp clatter of wine glasses. In front of the carved chair, there are white dinner cloth and red roses inserted in the gilt water bottle.Busy waiters shuttle in the community of the table, bringing cup after cup of wine or juice. The crowd is bustling, and you can’t tell who is laughing and who is talking – they are people in the starry night.
The biggest difference you can feel is that unlike the lights of modern cities like New York, the night in Rome teaches you to travel through thousands of years. Many people leaned against the bridge to look at the moon, look at the pedestrians, and look at the lights of the city in the distance. So you naturally begin to imagine the summer night a thousand years ago, in the starry night, whether the people are also like now, love, kiss, chat.
Before this, you walk through the winding alleys, and suddenly you see the Wishing fountain not far away.There are several circles of people around, and you hurry to exit and run behind you with your friends: along the way you see too many favorite shops and attractive arrangements, so you run towards the sunset, and then you hear the sound of the cello – you only know that you are willing to drown in such a night.
There are some of this trip’s favorite and mermorable museums and St. Peter’s Basilica.
The key word I think will be the dome, from the gold splendor of the church to the clear blue eyes of the museum, the collision of two styles just like this country.
Everything about the museum fascinated me – the heavy, stately wooden doors would open to reveal dimly lit statues, the soft light would shine on the milky stone statues, and in the black gloom someone was sketching. The curtain will be opened to reveal the emerald green exterior scene, the black fan will rotate, and the other window may be a beige street scene, reproduced under the window screen blown open by the breeze. Light and shadow will be used to the right extent, whether it is the gallery of the statue or the plain white facade with bronze pinecone statues.
And down one long corridor after another, coins fall from a turquoise trevi fountain, neatly trimmed shrubs are planted in terracotta POTS, and iridescent lights edge on a wooden chair in one corner.
There are also many funny moments, such as the plaza takeout to 5 euros a Gelato after the visit, such as the hot sunshine and crowded breath in the queue, and such as the sun shining on the fountain, piercing the eyes hallucinatory, and feeling that it is indeed a golden shining summer.
Napoli gives me a sense of division.
Poor enough to walk a few steps to see homeless and no one to clean the scattered bottles of wine on the ground, but also crazy enough to the street even high-definition screen playing free football league.
It can be so ugly that its own humble lawn is dotted with countless garbage, and it can be so beautiful that the entire city carnival for months after winning the title, becoming a blue and white ocean.
Can be embarrassed to no wall clean and no graffiti, mottled wall quietly in the corner looking at the riddled window lattice, and can be proud to let Maradona high in any possible position – black hair heads on the football, appear in every corner you inadvertently turn.
This city of football is destined to be different. Napoli. The hand of God. Such a beautiful city.
Many people knew that Napoli from the famous tetralogy, and though we did not know where Lenon and Lila lived on the top of a mountain so that could even not see the sea. In short, we lived in Sorrento, in the mountains of a seaside town, and those days are so beautiful that makes me wanted to cry even more.
The waves, the piano, the fireworks, the Limoncello.
This memory retains the aroma of light lemon and a little salty sea breeze, slightly cool.
To the rocky beach covered with black gravel, let the tide of the water down and down the toes, no one to care about the wet hem. Orange Frisbee in the air across the graceful arc, the sunset and happy laughter together landed in the orange sea.
After dinner, I returned to my residence. It was getting late. Move out of the dark green chair overlapping the corner of the stand, the distant clouds have faded, a soft black began to cover, everything is so right. You can finish your Limoncello, lean back lazily on the chaise longue behind you, smile and watch your friends talking around you, close your eyes and feel the cool sea breeze in the evening.
But you can’t help but stand up, the music is grabbing your ears — someone is playing the piano, the interstellar theme song…The sound of the waves is his accompaniment, the nameless moving that rises up, and even makes you want to cry. After a while, fireworks occupy your eyes – someone is setting off fireworks, lasting more than ten minutes, dozens of flower types…The loud echo of the valley is no match for the shock in your heart, and then you look up and see the moon.
Positano and Amalfi have a long history of being famous.
From the port of Sorrento, it’s a two-hour bumpy ride over the endless blue ocean. The water was crystal clear and incredibly blue. After stepping ashore, the colorful little house on the cliff will catch your eye for the first time, and then the aroma of lemon will fill the nasal cavity. The difference between high and low makes the road become tortuous, but the colorful flowers will sway on every pure white roof.
The street is decorated with a surprising variety of lemon elements, from a bone China plate with a corrugated edge to an unremarkable iron scale that shines brightly with lemon. The ice cream is also lemon flavored, with a milky spiral in a single cut lemon and a mint or two serving as a petiole.
Immediately after the evening departure, the white double-decker steamer once again plied the glittering Mediterranean Sea.
Pompeii and Herculaneum, two cities buried by volcanoes.
The pyroclastic flows that had been written about in the five points’ answer became a reality this time, and were even responsible for the deaths of the inhabitants of Pompeii. Hot, rapid pyroclastic flows swept away survivors in the city. Whether it is a noblewoman rescuing property, or a civilian hiding in the cellar, or a couple fleeing hand in hand and a mother holding a child, they can not escape this merciless slaughter.
For the next 18 hours, the city was completely buried under a huge cloud of ash. Then two thousand years later, through the long quiet corridor and turn again, the excavated body statue is still silent in the glass case. The next day, the white beach next to the hotel, looking west, could still see the city lit up at the foot of Mount Vesuvius.
Eternity and nothingness are but a thought.
The last two days are the two most important volcanoes on the trip, Stromboli and Etna.
In ancient Greek mythology, Zeus sealed TYPHON to Etna, and Sicily’s coastline is wild and beautiful, you can overlook the smoke of Etna volcano. We were luckier. An hour and a half on the bus and an hour in the jeep finally put our feet on the dark rocky soil.
2,800 meters above sea level and sometimes howling winds are definitely not friendly to people in shorts – but no one cares about this, and under the beauty and shock of nature, who else’s heart can be without waves? Black volcanic stones are piled up to create the illusion of a black desert, while a towering dune not far away spewed white smoke in the shape of a mushroom cloud, visible against a clear cobalt blue sky.
Halfway up the mountain, through pale, wilted meadows, we explore the different vegetation lines. Shortly after we returned, we saw through the window of our jeep another group of people on foot on the volcano. People are as small as ants, heaven and earth are so great and beautiful, and we meditate on the edge of the abyss.
The lemon-scented Positano, the cinema Windows of Rohmer, the great rippled fountains of the Roman Piazza, the sparkling Mediterranean Sea and dreams, the sunsets and grey waves on the cliffs of Sorrento, the buttery moon and the hot, sleepless nights. Together, they make up this Italian summer.
When I flew from Catania airport, it was the afternoon, and when I arrived at Rome airport, it was already the night after the sun had set. “The unfinished work of the summer, the unfinished homework, the illusion that there were always months left in the summer, all mingled and lingered, and now they wore themselves out as soon as the sun went down.”
See you next summer, then.