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PANAREA – «Dolce vita scented of malvasia»

by Umberto Garibaldi
Images provided by Author

Panarea, the smallest, the cosmopolitan, the most snobbish! Taken by storm by the golden youth, well equipped with credit cards, who spend the afternoons on the yachts anchored in the harbor, in front of Cala Zimmari or near Dattilo, to dance on the foredeck to the rhythm of techno music, to drink frozen Dom Pérignon and to make water balloons using tenders. Today with me and tomorrow with you, in an exclusive inner circle.
Before we all meet again at sunset for an aperitif on the deck of the Bridge Sushi Bar for vip-filled nights at the Raya disco, where admission is over 100 euros, and for the freshly baked croissant at Panea. But Panarea is not only the island of candlelight dinners between Melanie Griffith and Antonio Banderas, of Mike Tyson’s blitzes, of the fake relaxation of Kate Moss, of wild parties with TV starlets, of romantic walks in the dark lanes of Drautto and of the closed groups that square who arrives with the barges of the organized excursions. If you avoid the busy periods, you will discover a welcoming, almost family atmosphere, a nature not yet massacred by building abuses and a sea of enchantment with a thousand shades, from the emerald green of the bays to the white of the days of haze and calm, up to the blue more intense when the west blows impetuously. Deserted coves and islets to reach with a rubber dinghy, spectacular bottoms to explore in apnea or with cylinders. Don’t miss the turquoise waters of Cala Junco, perhaps the most photographed place of the Aeolian Islands, especially from the promontory of Capo Milazzese, home to a Bronze Age village.

But also, the whole coast, overlooking the sea and frequented only by gulls and hawks, which reaches as far as the rock La Nave, lends itself very well to snorkeling and underwater fishing. The true jewels of Panarea are however the islets in front of it, a sort of archipelago in the archipelago. Big like Basiluzzo or simple rocks like the Panarelli and the Formiche, they rise from the same submarine basement, characterized by curious eruptive phenomena that make the water boil. Swim in the short strait that separates Lisca Bianca from Lisca Nera, or immerse yourself in the Secca dei Pesci for the amberjack pass or in search of the wreck of the British cargo ship sunk off Lisca Bianca on a bottom that drops from -25 to -40 are experiences fantastic. But to feel in heaven, it is enough to cradle in a hammock at dusk, with a glass of Malvasia di Salina in hand and to cast a distracted glance towards the boats that return to the harbor, with the Stromboli in the background, that smokes and erupts lapilli.
Then, releasing a bit of that amber nectar that the gods love so much, you will beg the gods here at home, Eolo of course first and foremost, not to leave you from ancient Hikesia.

 

 

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