A red moon glowed when we ate for the last time in Marina del Cantone in Nerano, Italy. Scientific explanations aside, spiritualists say this is a sign of brave new beginnings. So … I am ready!
For three months I woke each morning to the toll of church bells and the melodic trill of so many unseen birds, the splash and sizzle of waves against the pebbled beach. I grew to love the sight of the whitest whites flapping from wrought iron balconies, of countless impossibly wide Italian smiles, of children and adults skipping pebbles across the placid sea. I relished the solitude of this peaceful enclave during the week and celebrated with the locals on weekends when it became flooded with Italian tourists.
I sat among the local people on their buses, shopped where they shopped, laughed with them at their attempts to tutor me in their language. I’ve been warmed so many times by the bunch of fresh basilica or parsley or the free orange popped into our bags when buying local fruit and veg; by the bottomless generosity with which the people of Nerano have welcomed us and shared so many wonder filled experiences.
Now back in Australia, I am writing my new book. This story is coming easily and straight from the heart. But of course it is. This story is inspired by Nerano and her people. How could it not be from the heart?