If you seek tales of heroism and ultimate sacrifice, then prepare to fall in love with Colapesce, the fish-man who chose oblivion to save Sicily.

Nicola, a young man of Messina, was the only soul able to swim into the unfathomable abyss of the Strait. One day, the King challenged him to explore the very depths of the sea floor.

As he faced this perilous task, Colapesce made a terrifying discovery: Sicily rested upon three mighty columns, and the one beneath Messina was dangerously cracked.

To prevent the entire island from sinking into the Tyrrhenian Sea, Colapesce made a decision that changed his life, and the destiny of every Messinese, forever: he replaced the fragile pillar with his own body.

Since that fateful day, he lives in the crushing darkness of the abyss, forever supporting his beloved land.

Remember this, dear traveler: When you visit Messina, know that you walk upon the shoulder of a hero. It is whispered that sometimes, when Colapesce shifts his shoulder to rest, the earth trembles slightly.

Imagine, dear traveler, sailing exactly where the Greek hero, the cunning Ulysses, faced the most inhuman test of his long journey home. You are not merely crossing a stretch of water; you are retracing the route laid down by Homer three thousand years ago.

The tumultuous waters of the Strait forced the leader to make an impossible choice. The sorceress Circe had left him a chilling warning: attempting to pass through the center meant perishing in the clash between the two monsters, losing the entire ship. Ulysses chose one monster over the other, sacrificing some men to save his entire expedition.

On the Calabrian shore, the jagged rocks still hide the memory of Scylla, the terrifying six-headed creature who, with a horrifying shriek, snatched and devoured six of Ulysses’s companions.

On the Messinese shore, the powerful currents still create the swirling vortex that recalls Charybdis, the monster capable of swallowing and spitting out the ocean water. Ulysses himself ended up being dragged down by her terrifying whirlpool after losing his ship, surviving only by clinging desperately to a tree.

Prepare your hearts for a tale that whispers of starlit nights and destinies entwined, of stolen glances and a love so potent it did sculpt the very face of a city. In Messina, the legend of Mata and Grifone is no mere chronicle; it is the eternal melody of one soul meeting its other, long-lost half.

Imagine, pray, the bright sheen of the Sicilian moons upon the Strait’s dancing waves, and the arrival of Grifone, a Saracen warrior whose skin was dark as midnight and whose heart burned fierce as the Oriental sun. His eyes, the mirror of distant lands, did settle upon Mata, a noble dame of Messina, fierce and fair. In that instant, an invisible yet mighty thread was knotted ‘twixt their fates.

She, the guardian of ancient custom and her fathers’ faith. He, the bearer of a new world and a passion that knew no earthly chains. Theirs was a love forbidden, reviled by the common folk, by cultures and creeds that seemed like insurmountable mountains. Yet, as the winds of the Strait caress every shore, so the ardour that bound them was destined to ride out every tempest.

Their courtship was a delicate tapestry, woven with glances stolen beneath the blooming almond trees, with vows whispered to the sea’s breath, with an agonizing wait and a hope that could not be quenched. Grifone, moved by a pure and absolute devotion, chose to forsake his own world to embrace that of Mata, converting to her faith—not out of duty, but from a profound yearning to be wholly and entirely one with her.

And so, at last, in a sacred celebration that joined two distant worlds, Mata and Grifone were bound for all time. From their union sprang not merely a lineage, but the very pulsing heart of Messina—a city which, from that day forth, hath carried in its soul the grace to welcome, to fuse, and to celebrate love beyond any frontier.

Know this, gentle travelers: In Messina, you are no mere visitors; you are potential victims of an ancient enchantment.The Strait, here, is not just a body of water, but the grand ballroom of a powerful and capricious sorceress: The Fata Morgana.

She dwells in the deepest abysses, within her palace of shimmering light, but upon occasion—when the air is utterly still and the sea is smooth as polished glass—she chooses to amuse herself with those who watch.

And it is in that precise moment of perfect stillness that the magic is wrought:

Reggio Calabria, though miles distant, is no longer so. The Fata, with an invisible sleight of hand, pulls it nigh, lifts it high, and suspends it mid-air. You shall see palaces, ships, and folk appear so sharp, so close, that you will swear you may reach out and touch them. It is a mirage, a trick of the light, but above all, it is a regal jest played by Morgana.

Should you be blessed to witness this sight, know that you are beholding one of the rarest and most fascinating phenomena in the world. Yet, heed my warning: do not attempt to reach it!

The Fata Morgana draws forth a dream for your eyes, only to withdraw it in the blink of an eye, returning reality to its proper place. In times past, many a lovesick soul and incautious sailor was deceived by that heavenly vision, attempting the feat, and vanishing forever beneath the waves.