It was a magic moment. I mean, the Mediterranean is magic in and of itself: here ancient Phoenecians sailed on their way to Thule to get tin and furs, the Greeks colonized and expanded their culture; the Roman empire turned the Mediterranean into its own inland pond.
Of course, there was more magic here than the history. I was in love, after all. This was to be the end of a journey of 8000 miles and how many years for fulfillment and a meaningful relationship -- this callow resort on an ancient sea. I felt comfortable and at home. Sure, this is Italy, but everyone speaks German, the majority Bavarian. And I was in love and in heaven.
Any ocean-front beach anywhere in the world is magic. The beach draws people from all areas and all walks of life. They come to worship at the throne of the sun-god, to luxuriate in the warmth, to relax, to vegetate. A beach provides its own rhythm, its own mood. The breakers, the call of the gulls, the chatter of the children, cacophony as symphony. And one simply lies there and drinks it all in.
And I was in love.
