Kaş, once an unspoiled fishing village, is now a relatively unspoiled tourist town on the southern bulge of Turkey’s Mediterranean coast. The area around Kas belongs to the Top 100 diving destinations worldwide. This is because this area have an high amount of underwater life, combined with very clear water (up to 40 meters visibility) and beautiful underwater landscapes. Actually there are around 30 different dive spots and many great places for swimming and snorkelling:  a destination really worth a Turkey holidays, in my opinion. Always, while I’m afloat on the sea surface, I know that a more or less intense underwater life is going on just under my feet: this fact simply makes me feel dizzy!  What then,  if you are bathing or -better- snorkelling a diving spot notoriously crowded by baracudas, stingrays, sea-turtles, rare snails, dorades, jack-fishes, soldier-fishes, octopusses, muray-eels, trumpet-fishes, brasses of many kinds, as well as huge groupers? What would be your feeling when so many amazing underwater lifeforms are to be seen regulary in unpolluted and crystal clear sea waters like Kaş’ ones? Would you realize at last, that a crowded, sunken and parallel world coexists with the one we are used to  ive in?

Illustration Friday topic is: mesmerizing

A trip to Cyprus is also a trip back to greek mythology. According to the myth, Cyprus claims Aphrodhite’s birth from the island waters. The fact that Aphrodite, among hers many names, is also called Cypris (Lady of Cyprus), might confirm this thesis. Wherever she borned, the myth of her birth has been widely depicted by classical art history. Perhaps the most famous reperesentation is  Botticelli’s The birth of Venus, definitely an outstanding masterpiece. In my poor an imperfect illustration, Aphrodhite is giving her shoulders to Cyprus southern area where the Troodos volcanic chain culminates at nearly 2000 mt. This is an area covered by forest that is sometimes quite thick, hiding dozens of richly decorated chapels and small mountain villages. The road stemming from Paphos, on the western coast, crosses lovely mountain sceneries: you might need some car hire cyprus to fully enjoy a road trip to Troodos vallies: once in the area  you will be able to choose the footpaths that go into the forest…

Illustration Friday topic is: imperfect

Andrew was an Australian I met in Boracay. He lived in General Luna, Siargao Island main town, fronting the pacific Ocean. Andrew owned a paraw and he used to go sailing in the Siargao sea, among  unpolluted and enchanting islands: Dinagat, Dako, Anahwan, La Januza. “An obsession!” he claimed. His tales were so enthusiastic that Gino and I could nothing but leave Boracay, go to General Luna, rent a paraw, and go sailing togheter with Andrew. In a nut shell,  there is a special feeling when you realise that you are sailing the immense and powerful Pacific Ocean on board a paraw: such a tiny boat,  a sort of unravel threat! And really our last navigation was threatening. In the late afternoon we found ourselves a mile off La Januza; we decided to head back to General Luna, at a distance of around ten  nautical miles. The wind was dropping; we tacked upwind but I suddenly  realised that the rudder blade was off the hull: its precarious tin pintles had given up. Meanwhile the gentle and constant wind pushed us towards the open sea! No wonder that we felt lost and panicked: no water or food on board, no compass, nothing but a piece of rope to bind ourselves to the mast. In the sunset light we saw Andrew’s paraw sailing home fast, getting far, while on the opposite side the unreachable La Januza looked a mirage. But, hurra! Neptune and Eolus themselves woke up togheter to save us: after a 20 minutes long hopeless drifting, the wind changed and we finally managed to land in the dusk  in La Januza beach. The island people who had previously noticed our drifiting were waiting for us. Perhaps I spent my life dearest night inside a rented room on that remote little island. The next day as soon as we had the rudder repaired, we sailed back to General Luna where an amazed Andrew was waiting for us. What else can I say? For sure our short tour had not been  a cheap package holidays!

Illustration Friday topic is: obsession

While reading an old guide book printed  by the former Yugoslavia Tourist Bureau in the mid ’70, I can’t avoid some personal memories.  My hometown Ancona lies on the Italian side of the Adriatic sea and, as a matter of fact, the Croatian coast has always been for us the very place heading for a short  holiday: a ship passage takes just a few hours. Everything was cheap in Yugoslavia, perhaps the most welcoming country among the ex-communist block. In 1984, as a moneyless youngster I went for the first time to Croatia, to Ugljan Island exactly. A very few money in the pockets means no comfortable hotels and restaurants. Cheap room renting was ok for me and some fasting too. Yet after a few days I really needed jam, sweet  and fresh blackberry jam. There was just a food shop. I went in and bought a jam jar. The label was peculiar, simply I couldn’t understand a single word but the expiring date and that stuff was expired since the previous year! So I asked politely the good-looking girl to have my jar changed; the good-looking girl looked at me smiling and politely said “yes sir, off course  consider that all the jars we have here are already expired ! “. I survived indeed the very expired Yugoslavian jam and I was able to happily go back many times more for new Croatia holidays.

Among the  thousand reasons that make an Italy holidays very peculiar, there is food. Italian food is higly reputed due to  its traditional quality and variety. Yet, as for the rest of western or westernising  countries, (I apologise for my bizarre neologism) a new  cooking trend has gained little by little more passionate fans, even in the conservative Italy: the fusion cuisine.  The most creative Italian chefs deals with fusion and try their best in order to create new appealing dishes, which invariably make use of ingredients from distant and different cooking stiles. Here is a good example! The Ristorante Clandestino chef is truly influenced by Japanese food and he is invariably able to produce some funny, inusual, always excellent, food combinations. To underline the concept, last but not least, the management of this cozy beach restaurant, called it SUSCI restaurant instead of SUSHI restaurant, but you won’t understand the pun unless you speak Italian!

You might ask what on earth there is to do on an Islamic Island at night? The answer could be join a full moon party, a must almost for every tourist!  The party happens at the Shela beach and usually music is played by small  portable music systems. The local boys, especially the dhow captains and their friends love to dance and make friends with tourists- especially women. According to a dutch girl who stayed at my same guest house, they are “…nice enough and its a great experience! “. Sometimes locals play chakacha, traditional drum music; more often reggea and hip hop are very popular, so that you would believe to be in your caribbean holidays rather than Kenyan! Don’t worry! There is  true African disco in Lamu: the friday nights at the A.P Canteen have a reputation for being fun and wild; this is the only place to go out late at night. A.P. Canteen is run by the police, which also run the nice wine shop next door. At  A.P. modern pop African music is played, particularly  bongo flavas from the the neighbouring Tanzania. Along with dancing, the main activity is getting drunk and screw around with good looking girls, just under the big trees outside. Tourists are usually welcome especially if they get in with some local friends.

Someone told me on the Vietnamese boat people who had landed on Pulao Kapas’ beach many years before.  I came across the boat’s wreck a few days later. The boat’s left over, nearly completely buried by the sand, really struck me. I stopped and stayed by that unplanned and clandestine monument a long while and   felt distinctly the very tragedy that was behind it…
Since a few years Italy is first in Europe for illegal immigration by sea. Some 25.000 desperate people somehow reached our shores in 2008. During the last three days, from dec 24 up to dec 26, about 1500 African  migrants have landed in Lampedusa Island, nearby Sicily.
Due to jingle bells and the like, Italians mostly have not paid much attention to this significant occurrence, while the ghosts of Christmas ideals rerun on Prime Minister Berlusconi’s Channel Five…

Illustration Friday’s topic is: clandestine

Red groupers typically have a stout body and a large mouth. They are not built for long-distance fast swimming. They can be quite large, usually largest fish of the grouper family, and their body, soft dorsal and anal fins, are covered with scales and thick skin.
Lapu Lapu is the Pilipino name for red grouper. In the archipelago they are important food fish.
As most other fish species which are sold in the market (talipapa) groupers are generally sold very fresh and, sometimes almost alive…The flesh is snowy white and can be cooked either as filets cut thin or as steaks cut thick.

Illustration Friday’s topic is: scales

No much time to post this week: I’m rather busy with the Cuprarte Art Festival opening, next Saturday. So I have drawn myself wearing a sarong. Sarongs are large sheet of fabric, wrapped around the waist and worn as a skirt by men and women throughout much of southeast Asia, parts of Africa, and on many Pacific islands. The fabric is often brightly coloured and printed with intricate, geometric patterns. In hot climates there is nothing better than wearing a sarong and I can’t give up the habit now and here, during a really warm Italian summertime. The members of a lovely African family living in the house opposite mine, watch me benevontely from their windows, and smile a lot…

Illustration Friady’s topic is: suit

Here are three interesting links on last week’s topic: Flossy-p ; Pookha ; Asafaga .

With no internet, fax, telephone, even electricity, communications with the outer world was not that easy in Boracay in the early 90’s.
The tiny island was actually set apart fairly and that was its very charm to me, at last. Yet the small concrete-building at one end of the island, the Post office, was a great attraction among the few foreigners who happily enjoyed their exotic self-exile. They went there and checked the mail at Poste Restante at least once a week: as a matter of fact, that was the only possible linkage with friends and relatives around the world. This little office was ran by invaluable Carlito, the daring post-master who, regardless of heavy rains, choppy sea, blowing typhoon, was always to be found comfortably sitting at his desk. And every time I got into the little room, the man invariably welcomed me with his cool and reckless manner, his somehow pompous conversation, his combed hair and thin moustaches, sometimes lighting a cigarette before checking the incoming mail for me, if any. This was a time-consuming process mainly because the desk was overloaded by letters, postcards and parcels just arrived from some remote country such as Switzerland, Japan, England or Italy. But upon Carlito’s chaotic counter, the visitor never failed to notice a very peculiar piece of furniture: it was a kind of marbled sculpture representing a pair of horns, perhaps bull-horns, mounted on a sound block of dark-greenish marble in which the name “Carlito” was carved. yes, I always wished to meet the brilliant sculptor who conceived that piece and pat him on the back, but never had the chance.

Illustration Friday’s topic is: communication