This post is also available in: Italian

I recognize Pantelleria by its perfumes.

Well … sure … someone can tell me I’m biased, but that’s not true.

I’ve gone around my beautiful Sicily far and wide, indeed all of Italy!

I was born almost by chance but certainly fortunately.

If I were to be born again, I wouldn’t want to be able to do it in any place other than here … Pantelleria!

The explosion of joy of an underwater god.

A black pearl, precious but to be discovered like the women of a past time who hid their bodies so only those who knew how to love them could discover them.

Thus, Pantelleria does not show itself to the casual tourist but only to those who enter into its bowels, those who become intoxicated with its intense perfumes that do not exist anywhere else in the world.

If I were hooded I would recognize it by its perfume.

It is a rough welcome almost mistrustful, with its lava slabs with its almost treacherous sharp rocks.

Rocks that try to discourage adventure, a place that will kidnap your soul when it envelops you with its unsuspected thermal waters, with its colours that do not exist in any palette.

The hospitality of the real Panteschi! Who love to welcome and not be invasive and who defend their values, their culture that lives in their incredible dammusi (small stone houses).

The dammusi…. almost impregnable fortresses of serenity. Their history made by exhausting work rewarded by the value of its grapes, of its capers known all over the world.

And I haven’t talked to you about its lake, its mountain, its sea, its caves.

Pantelleria can only be lived and loved without conditions, it cannot be described!

I haven’t been back since 1993, I’m 74 but it remains my place of birth.