Holidays take us out of our routines and let us experience new things. I would have been happy to holiday in England but my husband had different ideas. I was the one who searched though and then organised trip. This time all went well. Okay my husband has sun-burnt knees, but I did provide SF40, he just was too macho to use, complaining it was too high and he wouldn’t tan! I also brought insect repellent and we used every day except last, somehow we managed to get bitten on plane home.
Sardinia is a very rural island with a history of colonization first by the Phoenicians and, later, the Romans. The island was given to the Spanish in 1297, the ruins of their watchtowers can be seen along the coast. It returned to Italy in the 18th century where it remains, although it still has its own language as well as using Italian, likewise it cuisine differs from the mainland. It has a flat, crisp brad pane carasau it seems to have a lot of fish although there isn’t a traditional fishing culture, the Sardinian peasant was more likely to hunt wild boar, which is delicious. Their treat is suckling pig, which I was a little disappointed with as I found it dry, my husband even said he preferred my Sunday roast pork, the guidebook described it as “the skin is massage with herbs, olive oil and sea salt before slowly cooked on an open fire and served on a bed of myrtle leaves” ours missed out on the massage I think and there were no myrtle leaves, I’m not convinced an open fire was involved either.
Time changes on holiday and a rhythm evolves which is unlike my home one. My husband took longer than I did to slow down and realise we didn’t have to torture ourselves with extra travelling to see the capital when there were interesting towns close by.
However, I was ready to come home and now I’m here I will try and write in this journal.