Every morning the port in the Italian town of Taranto comes alive and in motion. Fishermen go to the sea or return with a catch...

I’ve been here before, but back then I was living in a hotel and I had to walk to the port. This time I rode the camper and stood right at the edge of the water to see the ships leaving and coming and to be able to communicate with the locals.

Harsh. Salt-soaked fishermen look impregnable, but when you talk to them, their faces are lit with smiles. Especially if you’ve come to buy something of their catch...

It is an incredible happiness to fall asleep under the noise of the port, the waves and the cries of the seagulls, and wake up with a view of the sea and the running fishing boats. This is especially felt when you leave Russia to avoid living in a negative atmosphere of fanatics.