I know death well. Growing up, you learn about the concept of death. You know of it; like you know of people in magazines and newspapers and television, or places you read about in books or see in photos — but you don’t know it. You don’t understand it. You are never taught truly what death is, until you experience death. It’s almost a fad, a bad one at that, one that everyone eventually succumbs to whether they like t or not — but what death is, it is the reminder of mortality, an expiration date, and unlike food products we try to use as fast as possible before it goes bad, we try to ignore the possibility that we will spoil and be thrown away at some point. At least most of us. And I didn’t understand death until I met it face to face, and surely I didn’t expect to walk out of my door and see it waiting for me on my doorstep. I didn’t expect it to resemble everything I loved, the purple lilac and yellow daisies, the smells of stale margarita under the hot summer sun, that now haunting sound of the cicadas screaming in the thick air. They never tell you that the sound of death is that, and that the devil seems to dance with maracas.
I’m on a boat! Sorry, I had to. Just a couple of months ago I was cruising around Italy on the crystal blue water of the Mediterranean exploring one of the Pontine islands with the salty breeze whipping through my hair and the bright beaming sun above. Shades on, smile on. Need I say more? Yes, because those aren’t the best parts of boating around Isola di Ponza, or Ponza Island, in Italy.
I’ve got some exciting news Live Gnarly Army! I know I’ve been saying I was going to start doing travel videos, yet I still haven’t published anything. Well, I’ll be posting the first travel video on the blog today! I have 1TB of footage from all over the world but I haven’t had the tools to edit, now I do! Here is a sneak peak of cave diving in Ponza, Italy! Shot with my @GoPro
It’s not every day that you get to look out of your window and see the ruins of a 15th century palace. Or fortress. Or house of a wealthy family. Whatever it was atop that hill across from our villa on Isola di Ponza — that crumbling structure barely clinging to whatever historical moment in time it came from — it was a magical sight. Something out of one of my fantasies. I always dreamed of exploring ruins and castles as a young boy, but I had never thought I’d bee sleeping across from them.
Let alone have a hammock to relax in on the porch of a white-washed villa set in the rocky, green-brushed volcanic hills of Ponza Island.
Our crew of the This Is Your Time blog tour, all bags in tow, plodded along the winding pathways that snake through the hills of grey and orange rock, passing the white painted villas which seemed almost to be carved straight out of the hillside. This was after a winding truck drive down the small hairpin turns which rim the coastal cliffs that were incredibly treacherous and equally adventurous, with our whole blogger crew holding on for dear life.
Which made arriving all the more rewarding and the location even more fantastical.
After a brief hike (around Ponza, you definitely need to have good legs under you) we came up the hill and through the gate to our sweet getaway, our own bright white villa above Frontone Beach overlooking the sapphire blue Tyrrhenian Sea. A gentle breeze brought up the salty sea air and cooled our brows as we all heaved our bags down happily, ready to take in this beautiful place and relax.
It’s not every day that you get to look out of your window and see the ruins of a 15th century palace. Or fortress. Or house of a wealthy family. Whatever it was atop that hill across from our villa on Isola di Ponza — that crumbling structure barely clinging to whatever historical moment in time it came from — it was a magical sight. Something out of one of my fantasies. I always dreamed of…