25 Ottobre

Fall is upon us in Sardegna and the mornings have brought chilly weather and steam rising off the still-warm Mediterranean. The days are still sunny and bright, but there is a little edge in the air that reminds us that it is no longer summer. That said, we truly were able to experience fall recently on a trip to Garmisch, Germany and were reminded of how beautiful fall’s colors can be and how much we have missed the change in seasons since living away from New England for the last few years. It was enchanting to see the reds and yellows of giant deciduous trees reflected in tranquil mountain lakes settled beneath the snow-capped Bavarian Alps. The magic of the mountains was enhanced by the presence of perfectly-placed mountain huts to which you could arrive after several hours of hiking and enjoy a bowl of borscht, a mass (a frosty mug) of Dunkel or Hefeweissen (the local dark or light wheat beer), and a brez’n (delicious doughy pretzels which I tried to recreate at home with somewhat gooey success).

Generally, our days there started with a walk into town, passing by the verdant green fields dotted with sheep clanging their bells and picturesque wooden hay-drying huts on our way to what became our favorite local Backerei to get a pastry and cappuccino. We decided that the Germans must really like nuts and seeds while surveying an impressive array of hearty looking rolls containing things from pumpkin seeds to chili peppers and beet juice. We stuck to the sweeter types, opting for cherry turnovers and poppy seed-swirled rolls. Then, we would strike off on the day’s hike, walking along perfectly-maintained paths criss-crossing the mountains with not an ounce of trash along the way (a welcome relief from Sardegna), until we eventually reached Partnach Alm or Elmau Alm Hutte or one of the other afore-mentioned mountain huts. There, we would relax in the sun at a picnic table on the deck and eat a tasty meal while enjoying the surrounding mountain views. Usually, we were able to obtain an English menu, but, on one particular afternoon there were none to be found and the only words we were able to decipher were wurst (sausage) and kartopfel (potato). While these were components of nearly every dish, we couldn’t quite figure out the differences between them. Thankfully, a friendly couple sharing our picnic table offered to help us and proved to be much more adept at English than they gave themselves credit for. Even so, I somehow wound up with Leberknodel soup – a giant liver dumpling floating in broth, which was not exactly the knodel I’d hoped for, but was surprisingly tasty. This couple was a great example of the many middle-aged hikers we saw on the trail who tackled climbs that challenged even our young, spry legs. We were most impressed by the jolly, ruddy-cheeked older folks who greeted us with “Gruss-gott” as we crossed paths. Not really knowing what this meant at first, we simply returned the greeting, but soon began using it ourselves as it always elicited a smile from passersby. We were relieved to later learn that it is simply another way to say “hello” that is specific to Bavaria.

While most days we started out from our hotel and got right on one of the many nearby trails, one morning we indulged and took one of the many ski lifts, the Olympiabahn, partway up and began our hike from there. The lift originated at the Stadium built for the 1936 Olympics by Hitler, who merged the towns of Garmisch and Partenkirchen for the games. It was a little eery to walk around the stadium and think of the history of this area. Once on the lift, the views from above were amazing including a favorite scene of a man pitchforking hay into one of the drying huts tucked amongst hummocky green hills and black and white goats clanging their brass bells.

The many miles hiked were absolutely worth it to be able to see sights like the Partnach gorge, reached after switchbacking down a steep trail towards the rushing river. We followed a narrow path along the rocks that was barely one person wide, dripping with moisture and with sunlight filtering down through the vibrant leaves far above the rocky gorge. Another day, we passed by the Reisersee, a mirror-like mountain lake reflecting the colorful leaves of the trees surrounding it and with a picturesque Bavarian lodge at one end. I visited another lake solo while Chad went to see the former concentration camps and museum in Dachau and enjoyed grand views of the Zugspitze, Germany’s highest peak at 2962 meters above the Eibsee (“see” is German for lake). And, we had to see a castle while there, so we hiked up to the Elmauschloss which we found out was not, in fact, an ancient castle, but was constructed in 1913 by a wealthy artist as a retreat for his friends. It then burned and was recently reconstructed as a luxury hotel. At $5,000, you and your friends can rent the Grand Suite, encompassing the entire top floor of the castle. We only made it as far as the lobby. Our final day, we packed in one last hike up to St. Andrew’s Hutte, an impressively short but steep climb a wonderful view 1084 meters up, noticing along the way that the leaves were even brighter than they had been upon our arrival just five days before.

Every evening, without fail, we enjoyed the soothing, bubbling jets of the outdoor hot-tub at our hotel, reinvigorating our tired limbs just enough to be able to walk into town for dinner. From the lodge, we walked past crisp white stucco buildings with dark wooden half-timbers defining their heavy roofs and balconies filled with overflowing window-boxes of bright pink and red geraniums into the pedestrian zone of Garmisch where we had been greeted on our first day with a performance of a genuine oompah band complete with a tuba player and costumed musicians in leather shorts, tall woolen socks and smart felt hats. Despite my German heritage, the cuisine doesn’t exactly agree with my stomach, so we instead found an array of Chinese, Japanese, Indian, and Greek food amongst a few dinners of traditional Bavarian fare. Our favorite spot of these (don’t mind the name) was the Café Mukkefucke where we tried the apfelstruedel and weinerschnitzel just to get a taste of the authentic.

And, as we were in Bavaria during Oktoberfest, we had to enjoy the festivities in Munich for at least one day. We took the train from Garmisch, arriving in the city just in time for the noon playing of the famous glockenspiel in the Marienplatz (the historic center), pushing through the crowds to see the carved wooden figurines turning around high up in the clock tower. From there, we headed to the Theresienwiese or Wies’n fairgrounds, to meet up with some friends at the famous Hofbrau house. This was one of many giant tents set up for Oktoberfest which was filled with beer-drinking, sausage-eating, merry folks and stages full of oompah bands. It was quite a scene with more people standing on tables than sitting, waitresses impressively carrying 6-8 liters of beer at a time in heavy krugs (liter-sized thick glass mugs) and repeated “prost-ing” with people we’d just met, but who seemed to take to us rather quickly. We had read that there was a special word, “Wiesenbekanntschaft,” to describe friends made at Oktoberfest and now we began to understand its meaning as we left with several email addresses and pictures of new acquaintances. It was a bit like a giant fraternity party, but people were generally better behaved and we managed to leave without any beer-soaked clothing.

Nonetheless, a few hours and a few masses later, we emerged in a bit of a beer-induced fog to investigate the rest of the fair. The grounds outside were filled with carnival games, stomach-dropping rides, and all kinds of fair food from brez’n to wurst to steckerlfisch (fish roasted on stick and served whole wrapped in newspaper which I wasn’t quite brave enough to try). And finally, we left the Weis’n and walked back through the city, stopping by the famous Viktualenmarket filled with local fruits, meats, cheeses, and assorted crafts before collapsing onto the train for the long ride home. It was quite a day.

And, finally we returned to Palau after almost a week’s vacation, having gained a new appreciation for the German tourists here that often frustrate us with their brusque impatient style after experiencing the cleanly efficiency the pervades Bavaria in contrast with the slow pace of la dolce vita here. Not to have too much time to absorb our new experiences, we began the following week with a diving excursion to Lavezzi, an island off of Corsica that is famous for its giant Cernia (grouper). We had been awaiting a calm day with little swell to venture out there and we lucked out on Columbus Day and had a great dive where we looked eye-to-eye with these giant fish.

We got back just in time for Chad to rush off to the airport to pick up his parents who had freshly arrived from New Hampshire. Our adventures with them included a daytrip back to Corsica to visit the city of Bonifaccio and eat fantastic fish soup and peppercorn steak on a sun-filled terrace in the old city, a boat trip with our landlord to see the archipelago and do a bit of snorkeling in the famous turquoise waters of the Porta de la Madonna, and the usual patented tours of the Friday Palau farmer’s market followed by the panoramic drive of La Maddalena and tour of Isola Capera across the causeway. We also packed in trips to Punta Sardegna to see the whimsical houses tucked in the rocks and the hobbit-like Porto Rafael with its tiny inviting gates and garden paths and also to Castelsardo to see the 12th century Genoese castle perched high above the water, swinging by some natural hot springs on the way back in nearby Casteldoria that I vowed to return to for a good soak in the near future.

And for the final leg of the Olcotts’ visit, we headed to Tuscany where we reunited after they had a weekend cooking course in Florence with their new best friend, Claudio, the chef, who taught them how to prepare delightful Tuscan dishes ranging from roast venison with chestnuts to a sauce of local wild porcini mushrooms. Upon our reunion, we were given a tour of Claudio’s and served steaming hot cappuccinos to help us to warm up in the crisp fall Tuscan air. From there, we were off to Siena, zigzagging along windy roads over the dusty Sienese cypress-dotted hills and ogling over the beautiful scenery. There, we found our way through medieval streets to the famous Piazza del Campo, dominated by the 14th century Torre del Mangia, to a sunny spot for lunch. Then, it was off to the Basilica San Domenico, home of the mummified head of St. Catherine of Siena, which we had seen on our bike trip here four years ago but Chad felt the need to re-view – a ghastly vision indeed. Quite chilled by this point by the wind and the sight of St. Catherine, we were ready to return to the lovely Agriturismo Villa San Andrea, sited on a hilltop in the tiny village of Fabbrica, where we were to spend the night. It was built on the site of a 13th century castle that was destroyed in WWII, with only one guard tower and a part of the outer wall remaining. There, we enjoyed a stroll through the vineyards, now mostly emptied of their grapes after the recent harvest, though we did manage to find a few remaining deep purple bunches with surprisingly sweet fruit, and also some very noisy pigs which weren’t too eager to have their picture taken. A lovely sunset there with ethereal painterly pink and melon-colored clouds capped off the day and gave us a few moments in the quiet darkness to rest before dinner. Our dinner was at Ristorante Macerata tucked amidst olive trees along a long dirt road not too far from our hotel. There, we feasted on roast suckling pork, venison in red wine sauce, fresh pasta with more famous porcini mushrooms and ricotta-stuffed ravioli with brightly flavored pesto accompanied by wonderful local red wine and followed by Schiacciata alla Fiorentina, a traditional Florentine cake of puff pastry and cream. It could not have been improved upon.

The next morning, the Olcotts were off to the train station in Florence to head north to Munich before the long flight back across the Atlantic and Chad and I headed south to the hilltop town of Montalcino, famous for its Brunello wine. We had a yet another fantastic Tuscan meal of herb-crusted rabbit and hearty bean soup with glasses of Brunello and Vino Rosso at a cozy trattoria that provided a moment’s respite from the chilling winds blowing through the stony streets of town. This was followed by a bit of wine tasting at a wine shop inside the old fortress which dominated one end of town. The proprietress there was quite patient with us and helped us to choose a few bottles to return home with and let us sample those that we could only afford to sip. After strolling down the skinny streets, colorful flags whipping in the wind along the way, we were in need of a bit of caffeination before the twisty drive back towards Livorno and stopped at the cozy Café Fiaschetteria, dating back to 1888 where we sipped café on plush velvet chairs and shared a bit of cocoa-dusted torta.

Our drive back to Livorno was perfectly timed to enjoy a glowing sunset over the Tuscan hills after one final stop to visit the Romanesque white marble Abby Sant’Antimo where we sadly learned we were too early to hear the monks sing their evening vespers and couldn’t stay long enough without missing our ferry home. It was nonetheless a lovely church settled among olive trees along twisting paths beneath the town of Castlenuovo dell’Abate picturesquely sitting on top of a hill inside the old castle wall. Our trip finally ended with wine and pizza on the ferry while rereading the Tuscan entries from the journal of our honeymoon bike trip four years ago and commenting both what a wonderful trip that was but also how free we were in traveling by car to explore this hilly country so easily and to be able to bring back its wonderful wines as well. And now, we are home on our island enjoying the quiet of fall.

11 Settembre 2007

I am just getting settled back in to life in Sardinia after a few weeks back in the U.S. to visit friends and family in Maine and New Hampshire and then a brief trip to Missouri to see my grandparents. It was my first trip back since coming here about a year ago and it took a bit to get used to everyone speaking English and not thinking that it was strange. Roads felt wide and slow and grocery stores grand and spread out. Houses all with their own yards looked luxurious, especially filled with summer’s bright flowers. It is funny the things you notice only by contrast. Having left the U.S. last August feeling a bit cynical about the fast pace of life and the focus on constant advancement and acquisition, I was ready to embrace a slower pace of life, but now I have come back around to appreciate the efficiency of the U.S. as well as the pleasantries of the people and the general level of courtesy afforded even to strangers.

After a long series of flights back over seas, we returned to the Olcotts' house in New Castle to the always-delightful pot of welcome-home haddock chowder, which we had a few bites of before falling hard to sleep with the fresh Atlantic breezes keeping us cool through the night. Our first day back began with the squawking of gulls and the honking of foghorns across the Piscataqua channel, which finally roused us from sleep. The afternoon required a plunge into the chilly waters despite the admonitions of a nearby lobsterman regarding the powerful currents just off the rocks. He obviously didn’t realize that we didn’t really intend to swim, but just to quickly plunge and then scramble out on the rocks. It was a wonderful way to reinvigorate before the evening’s reunion of families over delicious thick-cut American steaks, fresh succulent summer corn, and juicy farm stand tomatoes all followed by a much-anticipated wild Maine blueberry pie. Matthew and Lindsey hunted for crabs and sea glass on the rocks while the adults enjoyed cocktails on the point and celebrated Chad’s birthday and the coming together of families after a long year apart.

We ventured up to Maine a few days later and visited many familiar places including the Kennebunk beaches where we ran in and out of the waves with the kids and watched little Katherine clothe herself in seaweed and sand while soaking her floral-printed cotton jumper in her own personal tide-pool that Matthew and Lindsey had made especially for her. We packed in many visits with friends and family including a trip for Chad down to Boston for a Red Sox game and one to Portland for a few meetings with potential employers come spring when we intend to move back. At the end of our first week, we had a cookout with friends from UNH, which made us more excited about the prospect of moving back. Then, the brothers Olcott and their girlfriends arrived at various points over the weekend which we spent lazing about on the grass in the afternoon sun, reading books on the point, and eating and drinking wonderful things, as is the custom at the Olcotts. We ended the weekend with giant ice cream cones at The Ice House on an uncharacteristically chilly grey afternoon and then headed back up to Maine to the house at Granite Point, continuing the ping-pong of vacation visiting arrangements.

The second week, we fit in the requisite reef hunt for baby lobsters at Turbat’s Creek and counted nine in total hiding in the tide pools. This was following a lovely evening spent just across the creek with good family friends, the invitation having been extended at the end of a beautiful day of sailing with my dad on their boat. We sailed just about out to St. Anne’s, remembering our wedding there four years ago now, and then returned to the creek where we were engaged while camping on Vaughan’s Island. After drinks that night, we continued our wedding reminiscence tour by having dinner on the Cape Porpoise Pier next to Pier 77, the site of our reception.

All-too quickly, we reached the end of our Maine vacation and said tearful goodbyes only tempered by upcoming fall visits by both families. From there, I continued on to St. Louis to visit my grandparents and Chad returned home. I survived the Midwestern summer heat and humidity for a few days and packed in visits to old friends there as well as getting in plenty of visiting with family. And then, after 4 flights totaling 24 hours of travel, I returned to Il Faraglione to a beautiful summer evening with Chad and a very happy Manny who nearly knocked me over with kisses.

Fortunately, I returned home over a 4-day weekend, most of which I spent recovering from jetlag. We reveled in having virtually no plans for the weekend after such a busy vacation and spent most of our time riposing on the terrazza, taking long walks, and occasionally swimming at the beach. We had calm enough weather one day for a kayak trip to Isola Santo Stefano, where we climbed atop an old fort for a magnificent view of Palau and Caprera. The week brought the start of regatta season here out of the Porto Cervo Yacht Club (where the ritziest Sardinian visitors hang out), and I was pleasantly surprised one afternoon to find that the course crossed right in front of our house. I heard wild flapping of sails and went outside to see giant beautiful sailing yachts tacking close enough that I could hear the voices of the captains shouting instructions to their crew.

Just as I was getting a little too comfortable in my relaxed daily routine of being home with lots of time on my hands, I got a call from a woman at the Centro Ricerca Delfina on Caprera to see if I wanted to go dolphin monitoring the next morning. As I was just about to hop on the ferry to ride the loop road around La Maddalena and then meet friends for the weekly Thursday night gathering for swimming and dinner at Punta Tegge (flat rock), I had to scramble around to collect my camera, warm clothes, sunscreen and a quick overnight kit so that I could stay with a friend in La Madd overnight and meet the dolphin research team at 6am! Thus began the marathon of events from which I think I have finally recovered, it now being Tuesday. The dolphin-watching trip was fantastic, starting with a beautiful sunrise and then surprisingly close views of a small pod of half a dozen dolphins – mothers with their new calves. Just as we were heading in to the dock, we spotted a dolphin right in the harbor and followed it for another half-hour or so, finally returning around 1230 – 6 ½ hours later! That afternoon, there happened to be a BBQ on the base which I had promised to attend, so I rushed off to that for some much-needed sustenance after only a café and pastry for breakfast (back around 6am). After returning by ferry and having a small stretch of respite at home, I got re-organized and headed back out the door for a friend’s sushi party on La Madd. Normally, I might have pleaded exhaustion and made my regrets, but sushi is a tough commodity to come by in Sardinia and this was a rare treat. Needless to say, I slept hard that night, but then awoke early again to hop back on the ferry to La Madd to go diving for the morning. We were hoping to go to Corsica, but had to turn back due to strong winds (nothing new around here), and instead ended up doing our first decompression dive on a submerged pillar rock covered in gorgeous red corals and colorful sponges, and with every crack hiding giant fish - one type called Mustea, so named for its mustache-like barbles. One might hope to return from this adventure and sprawl in the hammock for the rest of the day. But, we were expected that afternoon for a horseback riding expedition at Capo d’Orso. We recharged with a couple shots of espresso after brief naps and were on our way. While initially less than thrilled to set off on another trip, we were delightfully surprised by the ride which provided panoramic views of the archipelago from a narrow trail hardly passable by human feet.

And, finally, Sunday we riposed, periodically getting up for a short walk or to have something to eat, letting our sore, limp limbs recover from multiple jostling boat rides, the pressure of many meters of water upon us and the exhaustion brought on from breathing stale air out of SCUBA tanks, and the bouncing up and down atop horses working their way along a rocky trail. Now, we enter fall here, signaled by fewer cars in our lot since the Italian schools have started necessitating the return of many of the summer visitors to the mainland, smaller crowds at the beaches, and shorter lines at the market. The nights and mornings are noticeably cooler and the light wanes nearly an hour and a half earlier than at summer’s start. We look forward to many fall visitors and to getting back into the rhythm of things after a busy summer.

9 Agosto

We have just wrapped up a wonderful visit with Chad’s brother, Tom. It was filled with lovely evenings on the terrazza drinking and eating plenty (including a fantastic watermelon seed-spitting contest one night), many late afternoon swims and snorkels off the rocks and beach near our house, and many adventures around Sardegna. Yet another in the series of weary travelers, Tom arrived on a Wednesday evening, though we expected him on Monday. So much for the efficiency of air travel – a two-day delay is most impressive. Fortunately, he had friends in New York, where he got stuck overnight, and only lost a couple of days with us plus another half day of napping upon arrival. Once a bit recovered, we set about trying to pack in as much as possible during his visit. This included a weekend trip to Bosa and Alghero complete with loads of photo-snapping opportunities for Tom and another visit to Mario’s wine shop (which we first visited on our bike trip there last spring), this time bringing home a bottle of his home-made Malvasia wine. The Grotto di Nettuno was our final stop and the whimsical forms of the stalagmites and stalactites were worth the many steps we had to descend and then ascend to reach the cave’s entrance.

Other adventures of the week included a hike to Punta Sardegna to see the tile-roofed houses tucked into the rocks and for a refreshing swim and picnic at Cala Trana, a morning kayak to Capo d’Orso to capture the rare wind-sculpted rocks on film, and a trip to La Maddalena for the festival of the island’s patron Saint, Santa Maria Maddalena. Apparently, many years ago, a statue of Santa Maria Maddalena was put on a ship from Corsica destined for La Maddalena when a storm overturned the ship. The statue was assumed to be lost, but, at that very moment, the wind picked up from the west (the Maestrale we’ve become too familiar with) and carried the floating wooden statue safely ashore to La Maddalena where it was installed in the local church. Each year, this statue is taken from the church and put onto a boat at the port. There is then a procession of boats led by the one carrying the statue. They all eventually return to the port and the statue is returned to the church, thus re-enacting the legend of Santa Maria Maddalena. After watching the procession from the church, we headed to the pier with take-out pizza and beer and watched the boat parade go by. We headed back to Palau just in time for an evening swim while watching the fireworks which marked the end of the night’s festivities. To cap it off, there was phosphorescence in the water so that we had light from both the water and the sky.

Later in the week, we had a private tour of the archipelago on our landlord, Andrea’s, boat so that Tom could take some pics. We started along Punta Sardegna and then headed out to Spargi for a snorkel and swim, then on to the Budelli-Razzoli-Santa Maria trio to see the amazing turquoise pool in the protection of the three islands. From there, we found a sheltered spot to anchor and Andrea brought out a delightful lunch of insalata mista (a hearty Italian salad of tuna, olives, tomatoes, mozzarella, and boiled eggs) and wine made by his son, Francesco. Our lunch conversation, though limited by the language difference, was punctuated by exclamations about the Paradise-like qualities of the islands and how this was truly "la dolce vita" (as declared by Andrea while reclining in the sun after our meal). We tried our hand at fishing in the afternoon, using bits of stale bread unsuccessfully, save one small occhiata (a flat silvery fish), and then eventually made our way back to Spargi for another dip and then finally home. We arrived at the port at the same moment Chad returned from work on the ferry.

And, no visit would be complete without the obligatory panoramic drive around La Maddalena. We tacked on a visit to Caprera to see the old fortresses at Candeo and all of its secret tunnels and watch-towers hidden in the rocks. There is a whole other world to be discovered out there. We also had to fit in a dinner at an agriturismo, this time trying one near to the ferry in Olbia, where we were later departing for the mainland. This was the best agriturismo dinner yet and was complete with porcheddu (roast suckling pig), delicious wine from the fields surrounding the dining room over which we watched the rising moon, and rich fresh ricotta with bitter honey for desert. We are hoping to return there for an overnight stay in the fall to see the grape harvest and wine making.

Then, we were all off on the ferry to Civitavecchia on the mainland. From there, Chad and I headed to Giardini Naxos in Sicily for our friends’ wedding and Tom took a train to Rome for his flight home. Yes, we took a ferry to Civitavecchia and then drove ALL the way down the coast to Calabria and then took another ferry to Sicily. Let’s just say there are 110 tunnels between Civitavecchia and Giardini Naxos and we had plenty of time to count them all! Giardini is a lovely town where black volcanic rocks tumble down into the sea in front of a backdrop of the always-smoking Mount Etna. We arrived early to the church and got to watch the arrival of the other guests while listening to gorgeous vocal music pouring out of the church. Elegantly dressed Italians emerged out of tiny brightly colored Volkswagons and Fiats, all sporting large sunglasses to dim the late afternoon sun. The Americans made a nice showing as well, as the men were in their dress white uniforms and looked quite dapper. Dan and Ily were a regal couple with Dan sporting a shiny sword with his uniform and Ily glowingly beautiful.

The reception was at an old villa in the hills and was right out of a princess storybook complete with candlelit grounds staffed by crisply uniformed waiters floating amidst the crowd serving flutes of champagne and an array of delectable antipasti. Once we were seated, we noticed menus on our plates that listed four delicious-sounding dishes. We assumed we would choose from these, but then they started arriving, one after the other: sesame seared salmon, toasted walnut risotto, fresh ravioli, and a fennel seafood terrine. Then, following a very sweet toast by Ily’s dad to his only daughter, her brother surprised her by singing an old Sicilian song to her in a gorgeous voice, the existence of which no one had previously known. It was not to be believed! And then the cake came out – the biggest cake I’ve even seen, which Dan proudly cut with his sword. And, this wasn't even desert proper. For that, we had to go upstairs where tiers of marzipan candies, lemon cakes, fruit ices, and chocolate mousse lined the entire balcony. The festivities went late into the evening until we were all quite exhausted from such an amazing party.

And, 110 more tunnels and two more ferries later, we returned home to the throngs of tourists that have now descended upon Sardinia. Every night, we watch million-dollar yachts go by, wondering which ones might be ferries and which are private boats and who the people are that can afford such extravagance! Similarly, the beaches are packed with leathery, tanned bodies sprawled upon every inch of available sand. Now, we are about to return to the US for the first time in a year and are eagerly looking forward to seeing many greatly-missed friends and family. We will also look forward to returning here in the fall when things will be a bit more tranquil once again.

19 Luglio

We have just returned from a weekend in Oristano, the province a couple of hours south of here on the west coast of Sardegna. We 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 raced 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 winter 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-looking 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.

6 Luglio 2007

Once again, I have waited far too long to catch up on the latest adventures. But, for the first time in awhile, we have actually stayed put for about a month now. Unfortunately, this means we haven’t been taking as many pictures, so this blog will be a bit more word-heavy. Summer has definitely arrived here, complete with hot sun, many tourists, and boats zigzagging through the water in front of our house. We now have to jockey for a spot on our previously private beach and when lounging on the sand, we are likely to hear a bit of French, German, Italian or English (Brits only), depending on the day and the combination of visitors at our condos that week.

The mornings, however, are still quiet and I can let Manny romp down the beach before the sunbathers arrive. One morning recently, I raced down to the rocks by the campground to watch three dolphins swim by. I had spotted them out our window and threw on shoes, grabbed Manny and arrived just in time to see them surface only a few feet away in perfectly glassy seas. It was a truly magical moment that I unfortunately did not capture on film! I have had a few other recent very close encounters with nature here amidst all the hustle and bustle. While working on the computer one afternoon, I heard a thump and went out into the living room to find a small black and yellow sparrow lying on the floor which had flown right into our front window. I grabbed a towel and tossed it over him in order to pick him up and take him outside, but he flew into the window again. This time, no towel was needed and I picked him up with my bare hands and carried him out into a shady spot in the yard, worried that I had scared him to death. I waited and watched, keeping an expectant Manny inside so that he would have a bit of peace to recover. And, sure enough, moments later, he flew off and hasn’t been seen since. Later the same week, I was down at the beach and saw a young crow with wet feathers standing on a rock and heard his mother squawking above. Thinking I would try the same technique, though concerned about his large size, I covered him with my beach towel and waded with him back to shore. Though not injured, he was absolutely calm and let me touch his black shiny feathers during my inspection. As I had to return to our house, another woman on the beach promised to watch him. I later found out he had flown off safely. Similarly, we have enjoyed listening to our resident blackbird sing his heart out on the peak of the house in front of ours while watching from our porch as the sun slowly sets (at nearly 9:30 now) over the fort on Punta Sardegna. He often out-sings the pop music which is broadcast on the radio of the campground bar next door and he seems to have an endless repertoire.

There is a wonderful festive atmosphere to summer here, as the people who have come are all on vacation and a bit of their gleeful freedom is bound to rub off on us year-rounders who supposedly have jobs to attend to during the day. In talking with a few of them, we have produced much consternation over the fact that Chad goes to work for the whole day five days a week and doesn’t come home for lunch! “Peccato,” they say, meaning "too bad". Recently, we have had neighbors from Parma who, each evening, meet Manny at our gate with a fresh crosta di formaggio leftover from the cheese they’ve eaten with lunch, and another neighbor from Naples who invited us over to try his freshly-baked Torta Coprese, a chocolate and almond cake. He then offered to teach us how to make it. “Free cooking lessons, it only costs a smile,” he told us. We have become the collective grandchildren of our complex and have been treated with amazing warmth and hospitality.

In fact, several weeks ago, we tried to include our neighbors in a party we had for some friends leaving here, but they laughed and said they were too old, “Come i nonni,” they said, meaning they were like our grandparents. In preparation for the grande festa, we embarked on an expedition to collect cozze (mussels) off the barrier around the ship at Santo Stefano. They grow in massive clumps there and someone must periodically “clean” them (and then eat them). So, with snorkels and a floating cooler, we collected nearly 10 kg of mussels, ripping them off in clumps with our hands and paint scrapers. Nearly three weeks later, my hands are still healing from the many wounds incurred (and we are still eating leftover frozen cozze!). The other main dish for the evening was Jamaican Jerk Chicken, grilled by Chad. Our landlord and his wife, who joined us for a bit of the party, bearing homemade wine and a delicious pear torte, raved over the unusual flavors and begged us for the recipe. So, this week, armed with a show and tell of all of the particular spices and ingredients, we joined him for a cookout at his house where we had Sardegnan grilled pancetta and salsiccia and a small demonstration of how to prepare Jerk Chicken. It is sometimes easier to communicate via food than through language.

In addition to cozze collecting, I recently went on a clam hunt at some nearby mudflats with my friend, Naomi, in an attempt to provide dinner for that evening. We found many more crabs scuttling over the seemingly empty clam holes and children chasing them than we found actual clams. But, with about 30 of the tiny arselle (of which I collected a grand total of 8), we returned home and supplemented them with store-bought clams for a delicious pasta on the terrazza. Naomi and her husband had invited me to dinner the week before when Chad was in London. On another night while he was away, I decided to have a few Italian friends over for an impromptu dinner of Thai curry (take a look at one of the previous blog entries to read about buying the ingredients). I invited Paola, a marine biologist, and Massimo, a guide for the Parco National de la Maddalena, to try curry, which is not to be found in Sardegna. As they took their first bite, I saw the color rise in their cheeks and watched them down their glasses of water. I had forgotten that the Sardegnan palate does not include particularly spicy food. Nonetheless, they politely cleaned their plates and claimed to have enjoyed it, though it was “un po piccante.”

One expedition we took this month was to the Golfo Orosei, on the east coast of the island. We had friends visiting from San Diego, so we decided to go exploring with them. Arriving at the agriturismo where we were staying, we saw the proprietor butchering a freshly-slaughtered lamb, which we quickly realized would be our supper. The owners were wonderful people who ran a neat inn with only four rooms and made a superb dinner with the lamb, homemade ravioli with fresh ricotta, and house wine from the fall harvest. We enjoyed this immensely, as we had undertaken quite a long hike in the afternoon from one beach to the next. The path ran along the cliff tops above dramatic limestone caves at the water level, which we explored upon our arrival at the second beach. After contemplating hitch-hiking on the tourist boat heading back, we instead bucked up after a refreshing swim and repeated the hour-long hike back to the car. Needless to say, we slept very well after our adventures and a big meal! In the morning, much refreshed, we had a breakfast of fresh yogurt and bread with homemade butter and honey from the farm's bees and departed with a promise to return soon to see more of the area.

Another interesting cultural event we attended recently was a polo match in nearby Baia Sardinia. Somehow acquiring VIP passes by simply showing up and acting as if we were supposed to get them, we were able to rub elbows with the elegantly dressed spectators in the stands and enjoy a nice view of the games. It was an excellent people-watching opportunity, though we didn’t manage to befriend any of them well enough to be invited into their luxury boxes, all of which were stocked with champagne and lovely looking antipasti. Unfortunately, the tournament was cut a bit short by a torrential downpour, so we fled into the nearby restaurant for several cafés until we got the courage up to dash out to the car and head home.

Closer to home, we have finally gotten back under the water and have started diving here. After a quick refresher, Chad was diving again for the first time in 15 years. It’s not a bad place to start again where the water is so clear that you can’t tell how deep it is and there is bright light down to nearly 100 feet below the surface. Half the fun of diving has been exploring the islands in a gommone (the small motorboats used around here). Underwater, we have seen wonderful sea life including the famous red corals of the area, eels, lobsters, octopus, and an amazing number and variety of fish. It is a whole new dimension to the environment here and we are looking forward to seeing much more of it over the summer and into the fall.

In indoor life, Chad has been keeping busy at work, but not too busy to return for an evening swim before dinner and for weekend expeditions. And, I am teaching a biology course online for students from places as far away as Turkey, Germany, and even a few stationed in Iraq and Afghanistan. It has been very interesting to read about their experiences and teaching online has allowed me plenty of time to play outside here and to get to know our new summer neighbors. We are very much looking forward to another month here and also to our upcoming August return to the States, which will be our first trip back since our arrival here.