Sardinia / Sardegna

Last weekend, a pleasant journey to the sunny isle of Sardinia; pleasantly empty at this time of year. It took us a while to find the B&B; directions from the tourist info guy (with only an address) - directions which we promptly forgot. Then questions asked of a crusty old lady by the roadside in a little village. She started yelling that we were completely on the wrong side of the island and we had to drive about 100kms north immediately. M didn't like that answer so we found a delivery driver who gave us convoluted directions to where we were sure to find it. M was nodding and understanding it all - the benefit of speaking Spanish when in Italy... We drove off in the direction indicated, only to cut back on ourselves and see the same crusty old woman as before, looking at us in dismay. She beckoned us over (to tell us to drive 100kms north, no doubt) but M said, "no, drive!" So I did.

Backwards and forwards a few more, around blind bends in villages one car wide (etc) we found the B&B down the end of a dirt track. Went up, knocked on doors (still with key in) - no answer, yelling out - no answer - wandered inside and decided no-one was home. A few hours later when we returned (happily full of belly) we found Mamma and Pappa beckoning us into their one room B&B, with a view out over a green valley. Couldn't get more cliched if you'd tried. I was a bit wary of the whole come and join us routine but Papa especially (okay, so we learnt his name was Mario) gave us a bottle of wine and big kiss (etc) when we left. Ah, Italy!

On the first evening M and I went for a wander in the local "village" to try to find a bar. All we found was a forlorn old dog with a bell around his neck and an old woman staring suspiciously from her doorway. "Buona Sera" we called out, joyfully. She didn't respond - just kept staring suspiciously. And so the cliches kept coming.

We took the hire car up the road and found a little pizzaria where after dinner the owner insisted on giving us a couple of glasses of grappa, 70% proof, (or thereabouts) which lit a fire in my oespephagas. He seemed friendly but a bit daft, drifting off to find a map or some other thing which it was necessary to share with us. We gave him a big tip and then he left us alone.

On Saturday we ended up at a restaurant which apparently is one of the best fish restaurants on the island. Only we didn't know that when we ordered and didn't get a single fish dish (of our greedy four) whist people around us hooed and hared at the huge platters of fish that were being brought out steaming for them.

A few observations on the Sardines and things Sardinian:

- it feels like it's empty
- very few people are about
- there are a few roads that are very narrow and windy
- it's mountainous
- it has gorgeous beaches
- it looks like a place to retire to
- it has overly officious and inefficient airport passport checks (both going in and coming out)
- it closes on Sunday
- it has friendly inhabitants
- it's greener than I expected
- it's got a name kind of like a little fish