This story is part of the literary competition created by In Trieste magazine “Trieste:Rebirth” which was open to all writers living in Trieste.
by Annalisa Tranchitella, 6 Grade (International School of Trieste, Opicina)
Eight years ago I moved to Trieste from a small country called Hungary. I never thought I could’ve called it home until a few years ago. Its breathtaking landscapes rarely impressed me. Not even the incredible variety of ecosystems could print a smile on my face. I always thought that life back in Hungary was better; I never really understood Trieste. Now I comprehend why this beautiful place never felt like my home, even after visiting every corner of it.
I couldn’t understand why people described Trieste as the most beautiful place in Italy; to me, it felt like an overrated statement describing a regular industrial port city. Probably because since I was three years old, I was terrified of bottomless oceans after I had almost drowned in them. I rarely swim, even in shallow waters. Even the idea of the ocean gives me goosebumps.
Until last summer, when my father bought a sailing boat right after the first lockdown. I decided that sailing might be a way to face my fear of the oceans. So I started to learn how to sail with my father. I was surprised to see what I missed for all those years. The timeless moments when the breeze moved through your hair made every moment out on sea unforgettable. One day I slowly put my hand into the freezing water. I could see a million jellyfish, all of different shades of colors carried by the mild currents to shore. They were so gorgeous.
The variety of sea plants was unbelievable. It felt like I was in a wonderland. A million colorful plants and stunning fish swam under our boat. I noticed that there were not many commercial boats navigating to Trieste for several months because of the pandemic! I had never seen anything so gorgeous like those sea creatures, living in peace in a world of chaos. I could even spot a dolphin, which is not a common animal in the Trieste’s gulf. I felt inspired and reborn to the sight of an underwater world so well hidden that almost no one could see how charming it was.
As we sailed far away from the shore, I could see fewer fish and colors until they completely disappeared. I wondered why, but I could see the water turning pitch black as I lifted my hand out of the dirty petrol. Titanic ships got bigger and bigger as our small boat passed next to them. All that remained were plastic bottles followed by a few pieces of dead sea grass. I couldn’t believe my eyes. We were just permitted to leave our homes, and people wanted to pollute the waters again! As I returned home, I decided to do something. Our ancestors used to create sailing boats to discover and conquer new lands, such as Christopher Columbus, a long time ago.
They all made the most remarkable discoveries traveling across our oceans. Today, modern generations don’t care about it anymore. We are letting our world die, and all the harm we are causing to the marine ecosystems will come back against us. I could not let that happen, especially after discovering how beautiful that world was. Almost every day of my summer vacation, I would sail on my small boat, hoping to collect at least a bag of trash. I knew that I couldn’t save the Adriatic sea by myself, but it made me feel better, the feeling that I had just cleaned the world a little. When I have time, I still try and collect trash, hoping that there won’t be any to gather one day.
Even though I hadn’t littered the waters, it’s our sea, and as a community, we are all responsible for it. Most of us cannot see the whole picture of our world, not only from firm land but from the stunning seas. Living in Trieste doesn’t mean having a house here or walking down the isolated streets. It means to have experienced the liberating feeling of sailing and swimming through clear and prosperous waters.
Every piece of litter shortens the time left before our seas perish. So let’s stop annihilating our oceans before we arrive at a point of no return. Instead, it’s time for a rebirth of our sense of responsibility towards the seas.
