The Magical Island
The Magical Island
I can close my eyes and in my mind go back to that exact moment in time. The warmth and heat of a sunny August afternoon kissed my skin. The clear, blue water glistened as the sun shined over it. Sounds of speedboats whizzing by and waves crashing up against the sandy rocks down below.
Staring off the rocky cliff out on to the water, I took a deep breath and inhaled the pure Italian air. The smell of fresh Limoncela floated by. My sisters and I sipped the lemon-flavored liqueur in the tiny shot glasses. Off to the side stood a little stand that sold Limoncela. One hundred Liras, which roughly converts to 50 cents in American money, could get you a shot of the drink. It was interesting to watch the Italians make it right before our eyes. Shouts of the beautiful language flew back and fourth between the men working the stands. My dad bought us all a shot of the tangy drink. We held up our glasses and yelled ?SALUTE,? which means ?cheers? in Italian. Limoncela is so delicious there is nothing like
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