Expatiperro

Though one might think otherwise from reading my blog, my life's been more than working, produce shopping, and enjoying the mostly sunny springtime weather (though I would be completely happy if it were just the last one). Two weeks ago, taking advantage of a week off of work, I went with my friend Grant to Sardinia.

Sardinia is one of the melting-pot areas of the Mediterranean, and as a result, its history is incredibly fascinating. It boasts a huge number of prehistoric remains, some of them massive in scale and probably testaments to a well-developed civilization that inhabited the island over 3000 years ago. The language is unique as well- while all Sards speak Italian, they also speak their own language, which has influences from Latin, Arabic, and other tongues, but sounds nothing like any of them. (We got a first-hand experience with Sard from the lady that ran our hostel, who might have been the only person on the island not to speak Italian. SO FRUSTRATING.)

But one thing about Sardinia that is especially appealing to Catalans is that it contains the only place outside of Spain where Catalan is spoken. The official language of the town of Alghero (or l'Alguer) is Catalan, and it was definitely a surprise to be able to read street signs and talk to the taxi driver (though he also spoke fluent English, which we quickly reverted to). Alghero's Catalan status seems to be a big source of pride to Barcelonans, almost to the point of them fetishizing it- in the travel bookstore I found a surprisingly large number of travel guides to Alghero, which became even more surprising once we got there and found a definite dearth of things to do. So let's get onto that...

We flew into Alghero on Friday night and went straight to our bed & breakfast, where we would spend the next four nights. We had chosen the Mamajuana not just because its name sounded illicit, but also because the guidebook had given it rave reviews, especially singling out its breakfast, "served at a cafe across the street," for special mention. Imagine our surprise the next morning when we discovered that not only was there no cafe across the street, but that the breakfast was actually served from a VENDING MACHINE located under the B&B's stairs. While a breakfast of Fanta and Kinderbueno candy bar made us feel a little better, we did feel let down by the guidebook (Rough Guide, you will rue the day you were printed), and set out to explore the city on partially empty stomachs.

Disappointment was the theme of our trip for the next three days. The day trip I had planned to visit Neptune's Grotto, "without a doubt the post popular excursion" (sic) from Alghero, was scuttled when we discovered that it was closed for "renovations," necesitated by a freak storm three months earlier. (How a natural cave can be renovated is beyond me, but I digress.) Grant's ATM and credit cards refused to work, which turned me into a sugardaddy, and turned our trip into an exercise in thriftiness. A dinner became a let-down when I ordered a pepperoni and melanzane pizza, expecting an exotic meat and melon delight, but instead received a peppers and eggplant (apparently the correct translation of the menu). And the 5 movies I had downloaded onto my computer before leaving were rendered useless when I forgot my recharging cable at home. Instead of the movies, our nightly entertainment was tag-team solitare and six episodes of Project Runway Grant magically had on his iPod.

Things changed for the better at the midpoint of our trip. After a 4-hour search involving two long bus trips and much groveling, we managed to rent a car that promised to liberate us from the mental captivity we were feeling. But before we could drive freely on the Italian roads, we had one more difficulty to overcome: the manual transmission. Undaunted, our intrepid adventurers tackled the challenge head-on. Armed with nothing more than guile, confidence, and printed instructions from eHow.com, Grant and I conquered our vehicle with only a minor mental breakdown to show for it. (N.B.- Avoid driving in medieval Italian cities at all costs. This is from experience.)

The last three days of the trip were a complete change from the first three days. We explored the northern coast of the island, which was blissfully empty of tourists and the high prices that they bring. We saw prehistoric ruins, walked on amazing beaches, ate meals that didn't come out of a vending machine, and stayed in hotels with ocean views and cheap prices to boot. For an exampe, the photo on the right was taken from our €60 a night hotel room, overlooking the Mediterranean, and with views of Castelsardo, a hilltop fortress dating from the 14th century.

But my far the coolest, and most photogenic part of the trip, was out day visiting Capo Testa, the northern-most part of the island, and the site of some of its most dramatic scenery. Blue-blue water, light-sand beaches, and rocks strewn all around. In Grant's words, "It looks like where Gaudi practiced his designs." Anything else that I can write can't do it justice, so I'll leave you all with some pictures to get a sense of the scene.


After spending four hours playing on the rocks, everything else was just gravy. We had a celebratory bottle of wine (or three) at dinner, retired to our room which overlooked the beach and had views of Corsica, and woke up the next day to make it back to Alghero in time for our return flight.

All in all, it was a fantastic trip. One not-so-good effect of great trips, however, is a bit of a travel hangover, which has hit me hard and made it next to impossible to get back into the swing of things at work. Oh well, worse things have happened (like, say, breakfast out of a vending machine). Just 2 more weeks until our next adventure (MALTA!), and then possibly a trip with Jason to Istanbul in June. Updates to come!