Early July in Sicily & The Aeolian Islands off the coast of Italy …in July

July started in London — the kind of heat that clings to the city, heavy and close, pressing through double-glazed windows and hanging in the Underground like a fog. The air stood still. When I landed in Sicily a day later, it was the same temperature, but everything felt different.

The heat here was open and dry, with the scent of lemons and sea salt in the air. It didn’t press down; it lifted. Even the light felt more generous.

That contrast — the closeness of London and the space of Sicily.

I started in the foothills of Mount Etna at Donna Carmela Resort & Lodges, then travelled north to the Aeolian Islands, before ending the trip on the western side of the island in San Vito Lo Capo.

Each stop revealed something new about Sicily — the volcanic energy of Etna, the island rhythms of Lipari, and the laid-back charm of the coast.

Mount Etna — Gardens, Food, and Life on Volcanic Ground

The trip began in the foothills of Mount Etna, where the air smells faintly of citrus and volcanic soil. Donna Carmela Resort & Lodges sits inside what used to be an old botanical garden, and it still feels that way — a mix of tropical plants, citrus trees, and volcanic rock.

It’s quiet here. Not staged or overly polished — just calm in a natural way. You can feel the history of the place in the layout of the garden and the old stone paths.

As a photographer, I loved the contrast: black volcanic stone against green leaves, and the way afternoon light moved through the plants and reflected off the terracotta walls.

The food was another highlight. I eat gluten-free, which can make travel complicated, but not here. Every dish tasted simple and real — local fish with lemon and herbs, pasta made from ancient grains, and bread that was actually gluten-free but full of flavor.

Evenings were slow. I’d sit on the terrace with my camera nearby, watching the sky shift from orange to violet over Etna. The mountain seems to hold its own warmth long after the sun sets.

Lipari, on the Aeolian Islands

From Catania, I took the ferry north to the Aeolian Islands. The sea was completely still that morning — one of those crossings where the line between water and sky disappears.

I stayed at Cutimare on Lipari, a quiet spot with whitewashed walls and sea views that change color throughout the day. Life here moves at its own pace. People walk slowly, meals stretch long, and everything seems to follow the rhythm of the tide.

Most evenings, I’d drive to the other side of the island for dinner. It’s a short distance, but the road curves along the cliffs and every turn opens up a new view — deep blue water, dry rock, and the faint outline of nearby islands in the haze.

As a photographer, Lipari was all about tone and texture. Midday light can be harsh, but mornings and evenings bring that soft, diffused glow that makes everything look timeless.

Dinner was usually simple — grilled fish, vegetables, and local wine. There’s something about the Aeolian Islands that makes you slow down without even realizing it. The quiet feels earned.

San Vito Lo Capo — Sicily’s Relaxed Coastal Side

From the islands, I made my way back to the mainland to the other side of Sicily, San Vito Lo Capo.

From the islands, I crossed to Sicily’s northwest coast and stayed in San Vito Lo Capo. The contrast was striking — broad beaches, pale sand, and the rugged backdrop of Monte Monaco.

The town itself has the easy rhythm of a beach village: small restaurants serving local seafood, narrow lanes lined with flowers, and a bay that pulls everyone toward the water by sunset.

Photographically, it’s a dream — long horizons, reflective light, and the kind of simplicity that lets composition breathe. Most days ended with dinner near the sea, watching the colors shift from gold to deep blue.

Reflections from the Road

Sicily in July was a reminder of how landscapes shape mood — from volcanic gardens to quiet islands and coastal light that seems to stretch the day. It’s a place that rewards stillness and attention, where every turn feels cinematic but unforced.

Traveling across the island, camera in hand, I found myself not chasing the perfect shot, but simply observing. The kind of travel that slows you down enough to really see.