Vulcano is a disturbing island: when you’re there you can’t wait to leave; but as soon as the ship breaks away from the port, you are immediately overwhelmed by a yearning of nostalgia. Two contrasting emotions, as contrasting as the predominant colors of the place: the black lava and the yellow sulfur.
Once on the island, the first thing one smells is the odor of rotten eggs (due to sulfur), it’s as if to ward off visitors, to make them forgo from staying in a place where they don’t belong. Volcano, you either love it or you hate it. There is no middle ground. I love it.