Relaxing in Santo Domingo

The sound of the alarm clock echoes through the room, that little tune that in most cases is rather annoying. It invites us to get out from under the covers while the first rays of sun peep over the horizon: it is six in the morning, and this is how a very long day begins, at the end of which we will set foot in Santo Domingo. The final preparations for a rather troubled departure are in full swing: over the past month just about everything has happened when it comes to flu and the resulting relapses; our worry is above all about little Federico, who will inevitably stay at home (it took a while last night to convince him to stay with his grandparents); we just hope he doesn't get ill during our trip (and maybe even afterwards!). I turn on the TV: among the news reports, here comes an unexpected strike by the airport services of Milan Malpensa...

well, great start!! At 6:45 we are on the road and shortly afterwards on the motorway; the outside temperature is minus two degrees (tomorrow we will probably be at plus thirty!), yet a beautiful sun is shining. Near the Po we encounter the most classic patches of fog (rather thick and brief, fortunately). When the sun reappears, by now at the gates of Milan (at nine), we make a short stop: coffee and refuelling and then off to Malpensa airport, where we arrive around 10:30. We leave the car in a supervised car park. We will find it again, we hope, on our return, intact in every part. A small bus takes us to terminal 2; meanwhile I find out: the feared strike seems to affect only scheduled flights, and ours is a charter! Groups area, terminal 2, 11:50, this was the meeting point and we are almost an hour early; the wait begins.

Departure is scheduled for 14:20, in a little over three hours. It would be nothing if it weren't that, shortly afterwards, the flight appears on the airport screens: L4005 to Santo Domingo at 17:30... great!!... three hours and ten minutes late!!! Viaggi del Ventaglio, our tour operator, offers us, free of charge, a lunch at the nearby self-service; small consolation; the long wait is nerve-racking and we can't help thinking how it would have been with Federico. At six o'clock sharp (another half hour of delay) we board the Lauda-air Boeing 767, which lifts off at 18:22.

After two hours of flight we are almost over Ireland; we will follow a route that seems absurd but is ultimately shorter, also taking into account the winds at altitude: we are at almost eleven thousand metres and travelling at 830 kilometres per hour; we almost seem to be chasing the sun, which very slowly but inexorably descends towards the horizon. Touching a maximum speed of just over 900 kilometres per hour, an altitude of 11,300 metres and burning almost 50 tonnes of fuel, we touch down in Santo Domingo while it is still Monday: it is 23:27 and we have made up five hours of time difference. We set foot in the airport at 23:40 and wait for the suitcases.

Shortly after midnight the suitcases arrive, we clear customs and get on the bus: two hours of bone-rattling Dominican roads await us... the odyssey continues. We arrive at the Club Gran Dominicus, where we'll be staying, at two o'clock local time, which is seven in Italy (on TV, via satellite, the Rai news is on): we've been on our feet for twenty-five hours. After taking care of some formalities we're assigned our room, while the suitcases arrive around three. A quick refreshing shower and then to bed, when back in Italy our colleagues are heading to the office. The sleep is short, Sabrina, affected by the time change, is already awake at seven, and shortly after eight she "delivers me a kick" making it clear that it's already time to get up. We leave the room a bit dazed, a beautiful sun is shining but a bothersome wind is blowing.

We don't know where to go, so we follow the swarm of people slowly processing toward the breakfast area. The village is very beautiful and well cared for, we look for the theater, where at nine we're given a boring but useful briefing, then, finally, we reach the beach. We grab two lounge chairs and settle in facing the stunning Caribbean Sea, whose thousand shades of green and blue unfold before our eyes: the adrenaline drops, the tiredness is gone and the long-awaited relaxation begins! We spend the whole morning on the beach, until lunchtime, and we don't miss out on a first pleasant swim, which Sabrina takes only up to her waist (the usual cold-sensitive one... better not argue).

The stretch of sea in front of the Club is, unfortunately, slightly marred by the presence of some breakwaters in the Romagna Riviera style, but you just have to move a few hundred meters to find very white sand and crystal-clear water. Shortly before lunch we make friends with a couple of young people. We go to eat with them: a rich buffet awaits us that, three times a day, we'll find again for all the days of our stay... on our return we won't dare step on the scale. We linger a bit at the table, meanwhile the sun goes behind the clouds, then reappears, then goes away again, but it doesn't matter: back at the beach I dive into the water anyway. The afternoon slips away just like that: without sun... but we, undaunted, don't abandon the beach even after a brief shower. The clouds later thin out, as we approach sunset...

and I'm back in the water enjoying the spectacle of the palms in the warm twilight light. The fiery disc of the sun seems to dive into the sea and its shape disappears before our eyes below the horizon line... beautiful! It's just past seven o'clock when we return to the room for a refreshing shower and to get ready for dinner: once again, without limits, we eat! The evening passes rather sluggishly, despite the pleasant show put on by the entertainment team all the negative effects of the time change make themselves felt and we can't stand up for sleepiness, better to go and rest.

Wake-up is set for eight, but the time change keeps throwing sucker punches and we don't need the alarm to get back on our feet. Outside a beautiful sun is shining and that's a good thing because the first excursion of this trip awaits us. But a few dozen minutes are enough, just the time for breakfast, and behold the sky is covered with clouds... much to our dismay we can now say: a beautiful sun was shining. It's also a bit cold, but at least it's not raining. At nine o'clock sharp we get on the bus that soon takes us to the city of La Romana. Twenty-five kilometers from the club you encounter a reality completely different from the luxury and comforts that surround us at the Gran Dominicus.

The population lives in modest little houses with sheet-metal roofs, most of the time surrounded by indescribable chaos and the most disparate and unimaginable materials, in some cases Hurricane George, which devastated the island no more than six months ago (on September 22), seems to have passed... yesterday. We've come to La Romana not to see the modest living conditions of its inhabitants, but above all to admire the hand-rolling of tobacco and the resulting production of formidable cigars, known throughout the world. The workers make the same motion for ten hours a day, during which they produce nine hundred cigars each. We buy a few as a souvenir of the visit and get back on the bus bound for Altos de Chavon, the reconstruction of an ancient colonial village: nothing more than a clever move to attract tourists and then fleece them in the numerous little shops and restaurants.

Aware of the authentically fake, we spend some time, all in all pleasant, along the little streets of the village and admire the beautiful view (this one real) over the Rio Chavon below. The river, of considerable size (considering the fact that we're on an island), has carved its way to the sea between two sheer rock walls, covered with lush tropical vegetation. The place, moreover, was chosen as a natural set for filming some famous movies: "King Kong", "Apocalypse Now" and "Rambo 2" above all, and it's said to be infested by enormous spiders whose bite can cause no small health problems. In the absence of the spiders (fortunately) it's the rain that ruins the excursion because it starts falling heavily just as we're about to descend toward the riverbed and prevents us from taking a boat ride along its course, all the way to the sea...

a boat ride that we must nonetheless partly take to reach the bus. It's pouring rain and we're by now completely soaked as we race to the meeting point, then... it stops raining!... so, disheartened, we get on board the vehicle that takes us back to the Gran Dominicus: it could definitely have gone better! We take refuge in the room to "lick our wounds", that is, to dry off, and we take stock: it was certainly an unforgettable experience, one of those, however, that we won't want to repeat in the coming days. Even after lunch the sky continues to stay gloomy, but it's not raining and we go to the beach. We stay almost the whole afternoon dressed on the lounge chair, almost as if it were a late-summer day on our own shores, and only the sight of the palms sweetens things a bit.

I smoke a good cigar given as a gift at the factory, perhaps the best thing that's happened to me today, at least so far. Nothing changes until evening, it doesn't rain and we keep staying on the beach, but there's not a trace of sun, in fact it's the shade that's not lacking at all. I amuse myself by playing a little three-on-three basketball game, lost without a story 22 to 8 (nothing is going well at all!), and it's a small consolation to have scored half of the whole team's points, nothing wrong (except a finger), at least the weather could fix itself! The afternoon fades out on a useless commercial promotion regarding alleged advantageous deals for future trips within the Venta-Club. It's now dinnertime, while a certain bothersome dose of nervousness begins to creep in, and we spend the whole evening with our noses in the air, searching for some auspicious star.

The village entertainment tonight offers its own interpretation of the musical Grease, very well done and pleasant to follow but not enough to free the mind from thoughts about the weather conditions. After the show, shortly before midnight, a faint little light, above the palms, in the direction of the beach, makes us jump in our chairs: it's a star... at the piano bar by a strange coincidence the verse of a famous song resonates in the air and goes like this: "... that hope I felt growing inside me...", the hope that tomorrow will truly be another day.

Once again we wake up without the aid... of the alarm, Sabrina timidly draws back the curtains, outside the sun is shining (but we mustn't get our hopes up, yesterday morning was like this too!). Optimistically we get dressed in a flash, and, after a quick phone call home (where it's now lunchtime) to make sure everything is going well, we rush to breakfast and then to the beach. Behind the village, toward the interior of the island, big rain-laden clouds loom, but a delicious breeze from the sea is blowing and keeps them at a safe distance. To tell the truth, a few small clouds pass over our heads, but they don't bother us at all, in fact every now and then they protect us from the sun which, when it shines, clear and bright, burns on the skin.

We move to swim outside the village, where the sea is more beautiful, and there we stay for quite a while basking in the crystal-clear water, while many curious little fish, colored similar to the sand, happily swim around our feet. Along the beach we're "assaulted" by numerous locals trying to sell us every kind of thing: from little necklaces to naïf paintings. They're quite insistent and, after the first words of introduction, all of them, strangely, say they have an Italian name (Michele, Giuseppe, etc...), even though we're in a Spanish-speaking country. Rather skeptical about their strange identity, we struggle to decline their incessant invitations to buy the merchandise and try to enjoy the place as much as possible. The climate today is truly pleasant, our nerves calm down again and we stay on the beach well beyond the normal lunch hour.

When, more out of necessity than desire, we go to the buffet we do it very quickly, so much so that, after no more than half an hour, we're barefoot on the sand again. The morning breeze in the meantime has turned into a steady wind that sweeps away all the clouds, the air in fact is clear and limpid... now this is the Caribbean!! Today there are quite a few departures and, given the change in weather, we can't help but think that among the people with their suitcases ready there's accountant Fantozzi about to take his little cloud back to Italy (how we wish it were true!). We're in a good mood, so much so that we try our hand at an improbable game of bocce, won in an equally improbable manner by Sabrina, who can't help but think of some deliberate mistake on my part, I assure her I played my best, she's left with doubt, I'm left with the anger, soon quelled, of defeat...

we feel good, in an absolute sense, and that's what matters. We drag ourselves until evening between a cocktail and a pleasant whirlpool at the edge of the pool because the wind blowing from the sea has rippled the water, with the result of making it quite murky... Then we go back to the beach at sunset to enjoy the spectacle of the sun "diving" into the sea. The post-dinner also slips away calmly, with the always pleasant village entertainment, on a finally mild evening and enlivened, personally, by a good cigar.

The sound of the alarm seems distant: for the first time we're caught by it, by surprise, in deep sleep, apparently we're adjusting to the long-awaited time zone, even though the clock hands show barely seven ten. After a whole day of complete relaxation a new excursion awaits us, the longest one, the one to Santo Domingo, capital of the Dominican Republic. The appointment is for eight fifteen at the reception, when the first rays of sun, in a sky completely free of clouds, foreshadow a torrid day (accountant Fantozzi by this time should already be in Italy).

More than a hundred kilometers and two hours by bus separate us from Santo Domingo, Caribbean metropolis, with over two million inhabitants, historically the first true city of the American continent, founded by Bartholomew Columbus, brother of Christopher, in 1498, in honor of his father Domenico and of Saint Dominic, commemorated on that very day (it was August 5) which, as luck would have it, fell on a Sunday... no other name could have been more appropriate!! The first stop is at the national aquarium to admire the rich fish life of the region, unfortunately though in a series of tanks with rather murky water, so murky as to drastically diminish the myth of the transparent and crystal-clear Caribbean Sea.

An aquarium like this in Santo Domingo seems quite out of place, in fact certain forms of life are better observed in their natural environment, perhaps with a very ordinary glass-bottomed boat. At the end of the visit the real stars turn out to be some funny iguanas (an endemic species present on the island), also naturally much more interesting when observed in their natural environment, but at least not obscured by a murky tank of water. Next stop the Columbus Lighthouse: we expect to see the most classic of lighthouses by the sea, perhaps something a bit more monumental but not dissimilar, and instead before our eyes appears an abominable construction, Soviet style, positioned on top of a hill.

The project dates back to the twenties, but, for lack of funds, it was completed in 1992, and it houses, besides a banal and insignificant museum whose only piece of some value is the original anchor of the caravel Santa Maria, the remains of Christopher Columbus, who, having died in Spain, had expressly requested through his will, to rest in Santo Domingo. The monument during weekends projects into the sky, through special lighting devices and at a height of ten kilometers, an enormous cross, leaving the entire capital short of electricity.

It's now lunchtime, which we consume in a fairly typical place, but not too typical (there was even spaghetti on the menu!), after which we face a useless tour of the governmental and cultural buildings of the city, certainly important for Dominicans but not for us, these being, in most cases, anonymous reinforced-concrete parallelepipeds, until we reach the presidential palace, this one at least decent, with an attached White House-style dome. Finally, in the early afternoon we head toward the center and then toward what remains of the ancient colonial buildings, according to the guide among the most interesting in America. Once off the bus, before us stands the Alcazar de Colon, a small manor built in 1510 by Diego Columbus, son of Christopher: a construction of undoubted charm, very well cared for also on the inside.

Through the windows you can observe the so-called Street of the Ladies, fully deservedly recognized as the first true street of the new world. Proceeding on foot, in the surroundings, we can also admire other interesting buildings such as the Casa de Bastidas, the Fortaleza Ozama and the National Pantheon which, located inside an ancient Jesuit convent, houses the remains of some important Dominican figures. Another monument of great interest is the Catedral Menor de Santa Maria, the first cathedral of the American continent, built starting from 1521. In this place the remains of Christopher Columbus were kept until 1992, the year of their transfer to the Lighthouse built in his honor.

There's just a bit of time left for shopping along the streets of the center, before facing the long road back to the Gran Dominicus, at the end of which we take stock of an excursion full of contrasts: on one hand it was a small disappointment in proportion to its difficulty (given the considerable heat and the long journey), apart from the colonial remains (perhaps even too overhyped) and the tomb of Columbus (not the Lighthouse) practically nothing at all, on the other hand it made us know the Dominican people more closely, with the children shining shoes on the street, all the way to the diabolical way the adults drive, completely ignoring any form of right of way... When, finally, we arrive, dead tired, at the Club it's already dark and we spend the rest of the evening in the name of tranquility, thinking about tomorrow, which we'll dedicate without a doubt entirely to the sea.

Although no particular excursion is planned, the alarm goes off early: shortly after seven, because we have to call home and we want to do it before Federico goes to start his usual afternoon nap. It's enough for us to know he's well, it's enough to hear his little voice and we already feel better. When it's not yet eight we're already on the beach occupying an umbrella, leaving our beach towels there in order to find it all for ourselves after breakfast. So we settle in with the lounge chairs to enjoy the warm morning sun: the sea in front of us is calm, all around reigns the most absolute quiet and the assiduous athletes (very numerous), ready to try their hand at the most varied activities, haven't started yet.

We stay in this "stalemate" situation for at least an hour, until we decide to make ourselves active in some way: the weather and the situation seem ideal to join a snorkeling outing on a nearby coral bank. A few minutes by motorboat are enough to reach the predestined place: on stage come fins, mask and underwater equipment to film and photograph the colorful fish life. The coral bank, however, turns out to be quite dying, devastated by the numerous and savage anchorings of boats, including ours, and the transparency of the water is not the best, nonetheless the fish turn out to be quite numerous and varied. The time at our disposal (about half an hour) passes in the blink of an eye while we "play" hide-and-seek with fish of the most varied colors which, intimidated, go hide in the most remote crevices of the reef.

The whole thing can't be compared to a Red Sea seabed but it's certainly more fascinating and realistic than the national aquarium of Santo Domingo. In the afternoon, after a game of bocce we let ourselves be taken by idleness and then by sleep and at times we laze around shamefully. Later I go to the reception to hand in the return airline tickets and ahead of me is a lady of abominable dimensions who asks, for the return home, for business class at any price, because economy class is rather... tight for her, in a purely material sense of course... It makes me laugh, I leave the tickets and go back to the beach to watch the sunset. Trumpets, please, tonight the sun takes its leave in grand style, literally setting the whole sky on fire, and offering us a breathtaking spectacle.

In the Caribbean it seems the most beautiful sunsets in the world occur and the one that just took place enters the ranking fully deserved. Later the entertainment offers an interesting singing show, at the end of which we venture a timid approach in the disco, where, however, we don't stay long because sleep soon takes over.

This morning we're on an excursion again: backpacks on our shoulders we get on board a small boat and, at nine o'clock sharp, we set sail, from the beach in front of the Club, bound for the island of Saona, included within the Este national park, on the extreme eastern tip of the Dominican Republic, stretching out toward that stretch of sea that separates it from Puerto Rico. Sailing through beautiful waters, we travel along the coast flanking a shoreline framed by an uninterrupted series of palms forming an immense palm grove, so, after less than an hour of navigation we reach the only village present on the island of Saona. In this place five hundred souls survive in conditions of extremely modest life: they're the descendants of some colonists sent there in the fifties by the then Dominican government in order to populate this remote strip of land.

Since then many things have changed: the island has been declared a national park and cannot accommodate new inhabitants except, precisely, the descendants of the old colonists. The children run toward us asking for candy and the little girls, often dressed in traditional clothes, are truly lovely. So we spend some time in the village making a few purchases in a characteristic little market. When we get back on the boat a clumsy gentleman with an elephantine manner injures his foot in the attempt to tackle the access ladder to the vessel: with him that's already three bandaged feet on board (we already had two at departure)... worse for them because shortly after we disembark on a fairy-tale beach: very white sand, classic palm grove and turquoise water.

The adjectives for what surrounds us are wasted: the Caribbean is now giving its best and at times it knows how to offer truly exciting spectacles. On the spot, besides countless swims, we also consume lunch, and we stay there for at least three unforgettable hours, at the end of which... we'd like to take the whole island away with us, after all we Italians discovered it, and Italian was its name: island Savona then become Saona. On second thought, better to leave it here, in a short time we'd end up filling it with hotel complexes, pizzerias and restaurants and to preserve the whole thing we'd put a nice ring of artificial rocks around it.

The excursion continues in the narrow stretch of sea that divides Saona from the coast, where we observe the thick mangrove vegetation, among whose fronds the frigatebirds nest, large black birds, very elegant in flight and very fast in a dive (they can reach four hundred kilometers per hour!). Last stop on a stretch of sea with crystal-clear water, whose main characteristic is that of hosting in its shallow depths an infinity of enormous starfish of gaudy colors, in all shades between yellow and red. The last part of the excursion, up to the Gran Dominicus, leaves room for comments about an extraordinary day, one of those unforgettable ones... then we still have a couple of hours to spend on the beach waiting for the sunset, while in our eyes the images of Saona and its stupendous nature are still vivid.

In the end the sun goes down below the horizon line giving us another spectacle and closing the curtain on a memorable day. The evening is dedicated to pop music and the special guest is a famous international star: none other than Michael Jackson, masterfully interpreted by Faustino, a very good local dancer, assisted by the entire entertainment staff. We close the evening in the disco, unfortunately held back in our intentions by a rather boring dance competition, at the end of which we drag ourselves wearily to the room.

A week has passed since departure, a substantially positive week, apart from the unlucky excursion to the Rio Chavon. Today we'll spend the entire day on the Club beach, in the name of the most complete relaxation. Mid-morning we set off for a short canoe trip, just to kill time and reach the nearby beach where we'll take a very long and pleasant swim... The return, against the wind, requires a few more paddle strokes, but without particular problems we get back to the cove safe and sound. The afternoon passes calmly, spent between a swim and a game of bocce, while the sun later gives us another beautiful sunset. For after dinner a big and fun game has been organized in the theater: blondes against dark-haired ones and we take part in it, making ourselves witnesses of a very obvious rigged tie.

Later we then go to worthily conclude the day in the disco, letting loose (finally) in a long and wild dance.

Federico's voice runs along the phone line and resonates pleasantly in our ears: he's well and feeling good. Thanks to this we prepare to face the day in full serenity. We go out for breakfast: around we see people with a bewildered and confused look, the same look that we must have had a week ago. Already before nine we're on the beach because we don't want to miss a single ray of sun among those we have left, all the more so since shortly after some big clouds begin to pile up behind the village, whose edges every now and then disturb us. We don't dramatize and, for now, calmly we fill a bag with "Bayahibe sand"... which will go to replenish our precious collection of sands from all over the world. During much of the afternoon the clouds stay confined within the perimeter of the island, at times covering the sun's disc and at times leaving patches of clear sky.

At five o'clock a catamaran excursion awaits us until sunset and a few minutes before the appointed time, while waiting for the boat along with other excursionists, the clouds cross that imaginary boundary that they had respected all day, giving the impression of wanting to cover the entire sky. In the air a certain pessimism about the conduct of the excursion begins to creep in and several times we ask the organizers for a postponement, a postponement that is granted shortly after... No more than twenty minutes pass and a thick rain begins to fall, that rain that just yesterday we had classified as a distant memory (you don't suppose accountant Fantozzi forgot something and came back to get it?!). We take refuge under the bar's canopy, which for the occasion records a full house, and we take the opportunity to make friends with a couple of young people.

With them we spend the most classic of evenings: first at dinner, then in the theater, then in the disco.

On the last full day in Santo Domingo we don't hear the alarm, we open our eyes when it's already eight ten: in less than an hour they expect us to go out and do snorkeling. In haste we get ready, consume a quick breakfast and when we show up at the diving center we're still sleepy. A few minutes by boat are enough, then a dive and the sleepiness vanishes. At this hour of the morning with the sea calm (fortunately), the water clearer and the fish calmer, it's a true delight to enjoy even just half an hour of unforgettable swimming. When we return to the Gran Dominicus a play of lights and shadows is staged by an endless parade of rather mischievous clouds. We sit at the edge of the sea to watch a group of willing people busy doing water aerobics, meanwhile the story reaches our ears of a whale that seems to have been stationing in front of the Club for some time now.

We think it's a joke by the entertainment boys and don't give it much weight. We keep our eyes fixed toward the sea, more to see a storm that is playing out in the distance than anything else, when, suddenly, a jet of water rises toward the sky... the whale really is there and is about a kilometer away from us... it's exciting!... We follow here and there in the sea the signs of its presence, until, in a brief but very intense span of time, here it leaps and falls back into the water with all its weight, then disappears for good, almost giving us the impression of having wanted to say goodbye. We had never seen a whale in our lives and the frames of that episode will remain in our eyes forever! The big clouds over our heads in the meantime have increased and shortly after it pours rain. We take refuge under the umbrella and wait for it to stop, but when it does it's almost lunchtime.

In the afternoon we stay on the beach without anything particular happening until five o'clock, the time of our last excursion (the one postponed yesterday). Thanks to a small boat we transfer from the beach to the catamaran waiting for us further out and shortly after we take to the sea following the coastline in the direction of the island of Saona. The purpose of the excursion would be to observe the sunset from the sea, but toward the east most of the clouds have been piling up and we're not very confident about its success. When we arrive near the beach with the big starfish to take a swim in the twilight light, the clouds open up and let through the last rays of sun that set the whole sky on fire (wonderful!). The return to the rhythm of Caribbean music and Cuba libres is fantastic, a worthy finale to a beautiful vacation.

When we arrive at the Gran Dominicus it's already completely dark, so I go to settle the bill while Sabrina, in the room, alas, is putting the first clothes into the suitcases. Later we prepare to consume, in chronological order, the so-called last supper, the last show in the theater (a nice musical: "Alleluia Rap") and the last evening in the disco (of course by last we don't mean in an absolute sense!), all until the wee hours.

To bed late... up early, because we still have to finish the suitcases and we'd like to spend a few hours on the beach before vacating the room by 11:30, barring delays that, if any, they'll let us know about. We're on the Gran Dominicus beach, a beautiful sun is shining, we're in the shade of the palms and the sea is bluer than ever... but a heavier air is already being breathed, the enthusiasm isn't the same as the past days and I don't even feel like swimming. I prefer to remember as the last one the swim at sunset, with the starfish and the catamaran, in the most absolute tranquility. Not that we're sorry to go home, where all our loved ones and Federico, above all, await us, but here we felt so good...

Around eleven I go to the reception: no delay, we have to go: a refreshing shower, we close the suitcases, we put on long pants and a t-shirt, sweater and jacket in hand, we go out into the open air... and it feels like we're suffocating, if it weren't for the presence of so many other people dressed like us one could harbor some severe doubt about our mental state. We consume a last lunch at the Gran Dominicus and then face the two hours by bus that separate us from the airport. The wait is long but not comparable to that of the outbound trip, so, more than punctually, we board the Air Europe flight PE2099 for Milan Malpensa, which lifts off with three incredible minutes of anticipation: at 18:47.

The Boeing 767 on which we're traveling will take about nine hours to reach Italy (probably following a different route from the outbound one), to which must be added five hours of time change. Midnight thus arrives in an instant: you just move the clock hands and, almost by magic, shortly after it's already Friday.

The flight proceeds smooth as oil until the end, without the slightest turbulence, my only problem is managing to sleep, a problem that Sabrina, on the other hand, doesn't seem to have. We touch down at Milan Malpensa airport at 8:37: perfect landing. By 9:30 we're already outside with our suitcases in hand, and half an hour later already seated in the car (returned safe and sound). Now three hundred and fifty long kilometers await us, fortunately not on Dominican roads. We're tired after the long journey: Sabrina sleeps, I can't and I struggle along the asphalt ribbon at the mercy of sleep. Shortly after noon we make a brief stop, near Bologna, for a sandwich and to buy a gift for Federico (in Santo Domingo it wasn't possible to do it), who is expecting it and certainly can't be disappointed.

We travel the last stretch of road that separates us from home, where we arrive around 13:30, we make the usual ritual phone calls: Federico is sleeping and we take the opportunity to sort out the luggage. At four o'clock sharp we're waking him up: he greets us a little emotional and with an indescribable happiness, so much so that, in the evening, when from the window he sees us loading his bags into the car he's afraid of seeing us leave again and, all worried, he points out the fact that he has to come with us too... shortly after we're home, all together again. There's nothing left but to take stock of this vacation: without a doubt a wonderful vacation.

We were tired and we felt a great need for it, that same great need that today we feel to hold Federico close to us: little one don't worry, soon you'll be with us, and united we'll go to conquer other places, for now a big kiss and thank you... we love you so much.