We Have Hit Bottom

After sailing through the Straits of Messina, we headed to the town of Gallipoli. No longer headed south, we are now sailing east along the bottom of the boot. The old town of Gallipoli is built on an island perched once again on high cliffs. These towns really knew how to defend themselves. The new part of Gallipoli is built on a peninsula that now connects to the Island. As we sailed into port, we were told it was a fishing port and no room for us. The Italians make a lot of noise and you think their decision is final. Just when they sense they have won, they relinquish and tell you to go dock over to the right. No fees just stay for free. We throw the lines through the old cast iron rings on the dock that have been securing boats to the harbor for centuries. Four teenage boys curious about our boat immediately come to pay us a visit. The oldest has on blue squarecut trunks that clung to his body. And I have to say this kid was packing some serious meat. His dick was wrapped around the side of his leg. Quite honestly, it was the biggest dick I have seen in a swimming suite in Italy. I could tell he was well aware of his man-size cock. He kept pulling on it, making sure it showed all his length. His friends too were well aware that this kid was the top dog in the group. I ask him how old he was and he tells me he is only 14. Damn that boy is going to be one happy Italian. I could tell he was checking me out as well. There was this knowing glance between us that acknowledged that somehow there was a connection between us that was not shared by the other boys. I have seen that same look on guys much older than him. We invited them on board and they loved all the room. It didn’t take them long before they were doing back flips off the back and swimming under the main hull between the two pontoons. Just teenage boys looking for some adventure on a hot afternoon.

Once again, we are entranced by the narrow streets and Italian buildings aged with many winters until they take upon their facades a wonderful texture and subtle color tones of yellow and ochre. In front of the local church, teenage boys are smoking on the steps, slipping into a macho persona much older than their age. Girls flirt and hover hoping to be noticed. I have to say Italy has a whole subfeeling of sex all the time. And they learn it at a very early age. I think it starts when they learn how to walk. It is not just how they dress, which in general is all about exuding sex. It is also in their eyes and in their walk. They have no problem staring at what they want and not turning away when the message is clear. It is much the way you can tell in Home Depot that a guy is cruising you. Nothing has to be said, but the message is crystal clear. With the toll of a bell, the youth all gather in the courtyard for a youth meeting. Songs of redemption and swaying hands tell of a faith deeply rooted in tradition. The group is mostly girls, and it seems the guys that are there are more interested in picking up girls than being saved.

The next day we meet with the Raymarine dealer who comes and fixes our autopilot and depth gauge that was giving us problems. By lunch we are headed to our next port, Santa Maria de Leuca