The Amalfi Coast is, in my opinion, one of the most beautiful places in Italy. And spending a few days there with my family was definitely good for me, like a lemon growing on these fertile rocks and gaining its juicy flavor and aroma between the endless sea and an equally endless sunny sky.

But for some time, the joy of returning to Venice has increasingly begun to override the impressions of other places, even if they are so beautiful. And this time, as soon as I left the building of the train station Venezia Santa-Lucia in the square in front of it, a dozen of familiar seagulls, bustling and interrupting each other, surrounded me in a tight ring and, asking where I had gone, insistently began to offer to help me carry my things to the boat. This audience, I must warn, is very unreliable, although with the locals and lives in peace and harmony. But if I were a tourist, I would keep my ears open, former pirates after all. To my delight this time I was lucky enough to escape their attention with a short twenty-minute story about the remote rocky shores and the promise that next Thursday I will arrange a big fish dinner, during which I will present all my impressions in every detail.

In short, I was back home. I am back in Venice!