arrived Friday evening and, after a bit of hunting around, found the B&B La Mariposa in the tiny town of Sedilo. As we drove into town, we saw throngs of people headed to the stadium for L’Ardia, the annual horserace at the Santuario di Costantino and the reason for our journey. Upon our arrival, Santina, the proprietress of the B&B, quickly ushered us inside, introduced us to all manner of aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews gathered in their living room, and invited us to sit with them to watch the race on TV. The race was held two times each year and was scheduled to be repeated in the morning, so we were content to see the end of tonight’s race on TV, complete with a bit of local commentary. Soon, we were enjoying cold beers and eating delicious almond cookies, both of which were most refreshing after a long drive, and were conversing in broken Italian with our new-found family. By some crazy stroke of luck, we soon found out, we just happened to be staying at the B&B owned by the parents of the President of this year’s events. Santina proudly told us about all the hard work their son had been doing to prepare for the race.A bit later, Santina’s husband Mario returned and recommended a restaurant on the edge of town where we could get some dinner, advising us to get to bed early tonight as the race started first thing in the morning. Before we knew it, we were packed into his little green Fiat zipping down the narrow streets of Sedilo to the Bar Alcatraz. Mario left us to have a tasty dinner of pizza with casizzolu cheese (made from milk from a special breed of Sardinian cow only found in this area), and, of course, some wine to help us along towards a good night’s sleep, but not before making absolutely sure we knew our way back. We were most grateful.
While we had been warned that the band would arrive at 7am just outside our door to start the procession, we didn’t know there would be shotgun blasts for accompaniment. This got us up and out of bed quite quickly, at which time I opened our front door and almost knocked over a trumpet player. Santina and Mario, seeing us sleepily peeking out of the door, motioned us over, saying, “Venite con noi,” or “Come with us.” We hurriedly grabbed a backpack with a few supplies for the day and blindly followed the parade, not really knowing where we were going or when we’d be back, but happy to have guides.The day’s event began with a blessing of the riders at the local church. As L’Ardia is a festival meant to celebrate Santo Costantino, there is great religious significance. Apparently, the race celebrates Emperor Constantine’s
battle with Maxenzio in 312 AD in Rome, after which he saw a vision that told him to spread Christianity. Legend has it that he was promoted to St. Constantine in or near the town of Sedilo, hence the Sactuario and the L’Ardia celebration here. At the church, the priest blessed the lead rider, known as the Pandela, and his two accompanying riders, the Pandeleddas, and presented them with bandieras, 
or flags. Meanwhile, the older men of the tows, dressed in black with the traditional squat hat which we have come to call the “Italian old man’s hat,” continued to frequently fire their shotguns, raining pieces of the empty casings and leaves from the overarching trees down onto the crowds below. Amidst all of this, the horses were amazingly calm. There were over 100 cavallieri, mostly teenage boys from the town, astride beautiful horses of all colors and patterns. They all stood behind the elegantly dressed and well-poised Pandela and his Pandeleddas during the ceremony. It is a position of great honor to be chosen as the year’s Pandela and it showed.From the church, the horses and crowd proceeded to the Santuario, a walled
sanctuary around the church of St. Constantine. The crowd arrived first and lined the course, waiting in anticipation. We climbed high up on the hill with Santina and Mario leading us and introducing us to nearly everyone we saw along the way. A few moments, later, the race began with the lead three riders tearing down the hill through the arched gate leading into the 
Santuario and then running up to the church with all the other riders following. Just four years ago, a rider was killed as his horse ran into the side of the stone arch during the race, as the goal of the race is for the following riders to try to overtake the Pandela before entering the sanctuary’s walls. Now, the arch has large Styrofoam panels on either side as protection and the riders are much less aggressive. No incidents this year to report. Once at the church, the riders circled around several times, paused a moment, and then rac
ed back down the hill. This was repeated three or four times, all to great applause from the audience. When the races were over, the local priest held a mass for all the riders in the tiny church atop the hill and the crowds perused the stands selling local baskets, woodwork and candies. Santina took me by the hand and guided me through the crowds to see the wares. I felt as though I suddenly had a grandmother I’d never known. After several hours of festivities and celebration, a long-needed café, and many more amaretti (almond cookies), we managed to make our way out of Sedilo, despite the repeated invitation by Santina and Mario to stay and be their guests for the day. We were afraid if we didn’t leave then, we might not ever leave!From Sedilo, we drove into the Monti Ferru region through beautiful stands of cork and olive trees. We passed Santu Lussurgiu, a town nestled in a dramatic volcanic crater, and Abbasanta, home to many strange nuraghic towers quietly existing out in the fields along the side of the road – only 4,000 years old or so. For lunch, we stopped at a dairy farm turned restaurant in the town of Seneghe, famous for its olive oil and its Bue Rosso organic beef, and sampled both,
much to our great delight. The savory offerings of lunch were most welcome after all the sweets of the morning. From there, we continued our drive down to Siamaggiore, where we were staying at an agriturismo, or farmhouse B&B, for the night. We arrived in perfect time for an afternoon riposo, much enhanced by full bellies, unusually warm temperatures, and little sleep the night before. Later, after a long walk through town to work up a bit of an appetite, we enjoyed another wonderful meal with all of the products from the agriturismo’s farm. Teresa, our hostess at Agriturismo Su Livariu, Sardo for “olive trees,” brought out homemade pasta with fresh tomato and mozzarella sauce followed by slices of pork in a delicious vegetable and wine sauce. This was accompanied by an assortment of vegetables from their garden including w
inter artichokes, sautéed zucchini and bell peppers and a fresh green salad. Just as we were finishing dinner, Teresa’s husband, Franco, returned from the fields where he and a colleague had been cutting hay all day. He was quite a character and we listened as he talked to his friend in Sardo, the local dialect, and quickly realized that we had absolutely no idea what he was saying. It sounded a bit like, “xuxuxu. . . lulululzu.” Our meal finished off with fresh watermelon, also from the garden and gelato frutti di bosco, and of course, a selction of digestivos – limoncello, delicious grapey-tasting mirto, and mandarino. Just as we thought we were done, Franco asked if we wanted to try a special local kind of cheese – it was a little strong, he warned us. Always up for something new, we agreed and he rushed off to the kitchen and returned with a large wheel of soft-looki
ng cheese and some pane carasau, the cracker-like Sardegnan bread. “Don’t look, just eat,” he advised, passing a sample over to Chad, who quickly passed it right back. I had assumed he meant the cheese was moldy, but I soon noticed that it was not moldy, it was MOVING! The cheese was called “salta salta,” which means “jump, jump” because of the vermi crawling around inside. Franco scooped up a large amount and popped it right in his mouth, much to our disbelief. That was certainly a first and we made sure to document it for your viewing pleasure.Having survived our culinary adventure the night before, though neither of us was brave
enough to partake, we awoke to a lovely breakfast laid out
by Teresa of homemade bread and jams (pumpkin, lemon, mulberry, and orange), and then headed off to the coast for a hike in the still-cool morning air. Tharros, an ancient Phoenician settlement built on top of an even more ancient nuraghic settlement, sits right on the sea on a peninsula outside the town of Oristano and there is a beautiful path that goes from there out to the lighthouse at the tip. The panoramic views along the path were amazing and unobstructed, mostly because there were no trees, hence the necessary early-morning start and the direct procession to the beach and into the water upon our 
return. After our hike and a few hours of recovery at the beach, we started our trip back north, taking a previously untraveled inland route for some new scenery. This took us through more cork forests and loads of nuraghe (hence the name the Valle di Nuraghe), including huts and watchtowers. The neatest find of the day, however, were the Domus de Janus, or fairy house nuraghe built right into the side of a cliff on the side of the road that looked like it was formed by an old river bed. They reminded us of Mesa Verde.Finally, we arrived back home to a lovely calm evening in Palau to watch the sun set over Punta Sardegna and to wonder yet again at how lucky we are to live here for a stretch.
