Today is another fiercely windy day here. We even had hail earlier this morning. We have a new salt crust on the windows from the Northwest Maestrale whipping up the seas and sending them in the direction of our house. This is all a bit of a shock to the system as this weekend truly felt like summer with temperatures reaching nearly 20°C (70 F) and unusually tranquil seas. Unfortunately, we spent much of this weekend cleaning up after a minor household disaster in the wee hours of the night on Friday. We awoke to the sound of dripping only to discover that it was coming from the ceiling between our bedroom and the hallway. Because we had a friend staying for the night, I quietly snuck upstairs to see if the faucet had been left on or the toilet had overflowed and was met with at least an inch of standing water covering the floor. Somehow, our friend managed to sleep through all of this until I rudely awakened her with a light to further inspect the damage. I‘m not sure what the logic behind it was, but someone decided to put the hot water heater upstairs so that should it spring a leak, as it definitely had, it would drip down through the walls into the lower floor of the house. Fortunately, it is positioned above the bathroom and hallway, both of which have tile floors. A frantic call to the guardiano (caretaker) of our condominium complex, Pietro, got him up in the middle of the night to turn off the water to the heater. As I had already given him a bottle of our first batch of homemade Mirto, I would have to think of another treat to give him to say thank you. The recipe for the Mirto came from his mother and he very kindly wrote it down for me when he saw my friend, Ilenia, and me picking the myrtle berries one afternoon in front of our house. After Pietro shut off the water, we spent the next hour or two sopping up water with old towels and running with them to the window to squeeze them out over the yard below. The next day, I felt the effects of the repeated wringing of towels when I attempted to knead dough to make Irish soda bread for St. Patrick’s Day.
This was the other complicating factor: on Friday we had decided to have a St. Patrick’s Day party at our house Saturday night. I bought a piece of beef brisket (which I learned is called "costate di manzo") at the Macelleria and corned my first beef over the next day or so. Although I had read that you are supposed to corn beef for at least 5-7 days, we decided to experiment in order to have it ready by St. Patrick’s Day. After the hot water incident, we were concerned that we wouldn’t have water for our party the next night. We called our landlord first thing in the morning to let him know what had happened to our scalda bagno (hot water heater). We hoped that maybe someone would be out to look at it in the next few days, thinking that Monday would be most likely, as tomorrow would be Sunday, the day of riposo. Much to our surprise, in the middle of making breakfast, a car showed up with a man from the appliance store down the street. After taking a look at the model of our heater, he said he would be back in 20 minutes with a new one. Sure enough, by 10am we had a new, fully installed, functional hot water heater. So much for the Italian slow pace of work. We spent much of the day afterwards mopping and hanging out the soaked towels to dry. We were lucky to have a dry, sunny day for this. We were able to take a brief afternoon break to enjoy the summery weather and to partake of a cocktail down on the rocks – a new favorite concoction of bitters and white wine garnished with an orange slice. And, at 7:15pm, a crew of nearly 15 people showed up all at once ready for a St. Patrick’s Day feast. Much corned beef, cabbage, potatoes, soda bread, Irish stew and bread pudding later (and Guinness and Irish coffee too), we collapsed into a deep sleep for the night.
We had anticipated this weekend being a nice relaxing weekend at home after our bike trip down the coast last weekend. A colleague of Chad’s from San Diego, who is a biker, was in town and was eager to do a little touring around Sardegna. So, Saturday morning we unearthed our neglected gear packed up the bikes to drive to Alghero, a coastal town about 2 hours south of here that is known for its Catalan influence, local red coral jewelry, and wonderful seafood. We had heard great things about the coastal road between Alghero and Bosa, a town about 40 km south: a winding road with no houses, little traffic, and dramatic views of the coast and Capo Caccia, the limestone headland bearing the famous Grotta di Nettuno cave at the north end of Alghero. We had also seen the wind predictions for the weekend and had chosen to ignore them and go anyway given our friend’s short stay in Sardegna. The first challenge of the day was in finding that the one place listed for lunch along the route in our guide book, was closed. So, we would have to subsist on our breakfast for the next 30 km or so. The views were indeed beautiful and during the first part of the day the wind was stiff, but bearable. However, later in the day, there came a point when we turned around a bend, our bikes came to a dead stop, and we were forced to walk until we were in the lee of it. By Chad’s odometer, we still had about 15 km left until we reached Bosa. The North winds were getting funneled through each valley along the way so that ,with every downhill, came a disappointing deceleration. The upside to this was that we had a tail wind for most of the ascents. In any case, it was a tough ride which elicited some foul words from me and which were, fortunately, lost amongst the howls of the wind. Finally, in late afternoon, we arrived in Bosa, exhausted and famished. I went into a bar to use the restroom and returned having bought pastries for the crew, which we rapidly devoured and then bought another round. Following a hot shower, a change into non-spandex clothes, and a beer and more snacks procured by Chad from a nearby shop, we sank into the little couch in our room to vegetate in front of Italian TV for a moment before rallying the energy to get out and see Bosa on our one night there. Bosa is a beautiful little city with medieval winding streets below an imposing castle atop the hill and set along the Fiume Temo, the only navigable river in Sardegna, at one time the site of a thriving Roman settlement. Now, the river holds many colorful fishing boats and is lined with old tanneries from the pre-WWII era. Our find of the evening was a small wine shop on a cobblestone street. We had read about Bosa’s sweet Malvasia wine and wanted to try it. The proprietor of the shop was incredibly friendly and had a particular fondness for Americans. He invited us back in the morning to have a tasting before heading off on our bikes. Perhaps the evening would have been better for drinking wine, but we didn’t question his offer and promised to return in the morning.
One of the real pleasures of bike touring is the enhanced enjoyment of simple things like good food, a hot shower, and a bed to sleep in. While I think that our dinner that night at the hotel’s restaurant would have been delicious anytime, it was particularly amazing following our day’s adventure and lack of lunch. We had homemade pasta with porcini mushroom sauce and bottarga, dried mullet roe, which is a common Sardegnan addition to dishes, and Chad had the best steak we’ve had in Sardegna. It was tender and juicy in the center unlike the shoe-leather imposters we have become accustomed to here. This was all followed by seadas, the traditional Sardegnan desert of pastry filled with cheese which is then fried and topped with wild honey. We had intentions of a post dinner walk, but, instead, happily retired early to our rooms, saying prayers against the winds before going to bed.
The next morning seemed less windy, but was quite cool at the start. We headed to the wine shop in town, as promised, only to find the doors locked. But, when we turned the corner, Mario, the proprietor, was standing outside having a cafĂ© with friends. Back at his shop, after pouring us a bit of the sweet Malvasia wine to warm us for the ride, he insisted on giving us a bottle to take home and would not take any money for it. While not terribly excited about lugging a bottle of wine on my bike, there was no way to refuse. The ride back was beautiful and followed an interior road up a very long climb leading out of Bosa. Fortunately, we got this over with in the early part of the day and then had only one other short climb followed by a very long descent. While yesterday we appreciated the uphills for the tailwind, today we appreciated them for their warming effects as the temperature had become quite chilly. Along the way, we saw one of the famed griffon-vultures unique to this area with a nearly 2-meter wing span which it was using to soar over the hills. We had a refueling stop at a cozy bar in Villanova Monteleone which served hot paninis and cookies and found it hard to motivate to go back outside, anticipating a chilling 12 km descent into Alghero. Pushing on for the final stretch, we pulled into Alghero quite happy to see the little blue Jetta awaiting us in the parking lot by the port. One small discovery we have made while traveling overseas is that there are always clean, free restrooms to be found at McDonalds. We spotted one just up the street from our car, which provided the perfect spot for changing out of bike gear, having a rare fountain Coke, and washing up before exploring town. We walked around a bit, following the Bastione, the city’s complex of seawalls and watchtowers constructed to defend the city, and ducking into churches here and there, mostly to retreat from the chilly wind. Once finally back home, we enjoyed loads of take-out pizza and a movie from the comfort of our couch with the heater nearby. Another Sardegnan adventure completed.
Now, we anticipate the end of March: the month of perpetual climatic indecision, and the arrival of many guests in April. This month, I am also hoping to begin a cooking class at a local Agriturismo (a rural restaurant that serves homemade products such as wild boar sausage and sheep’s milk Pecorino cheese) and to begin teaching English at the Italian Officer’s School – two fine opportunities to learn more about Italian cuisine and language.