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And, despite the fact that Antonella, Paolo, Debora, Milena, Lucia, Andrea, Paolo, Claudia, Michela e Rosy had only gone to to keep me company until Mario turned up, I wasn’t allow to pay because I wasn’t Sardinian. I was the guest, and in Sardinia guests don’t pay for anything. Ever. During the
meal we discovered that Antonella had been to university with the sister
of Mario’s best friend’s wife. This tenuous link was a big enough reason
to be called together the next night with to have dinner and
celebrate the connection. Starters of salami, olives, grilled courgettes
and aubergines, bruschetta, ‘music bread’ (paper-thin layers of grilled
bread, smudged with extra vergin olive oil and salt and grilled until warm
and crackling) were followed by curlogionis, a fresh Sardinian pasta filled
with potato and mint, and malloredus, a type of pasta that resembles maggots,
cooked in a sausage and tomato sauce. And if by now stomachs weren’t bursting,
there was porchetto, suckling pig, salad, fruit and desert. All washed
down with jugs of a fizzy homemade red wine. That was for the carnivores,
of course. As a committed vegetarian, I just stuck to the fruit and veg.
It would be easy to think that this was a special one-off meal for friends, but it’s an occurance that happens most Sundays with all the family and family friends gathered around. The Sardinians have an old proverb that says it’s better to have a good friend than an awful relative. That could well be the key to understanding why they want you to feel at home on this forgotten treasure island in the Med. This generosity
also extends to total strangers. Only a few weeks ago Mario and I were
having dinner in a seafood restaurant located on Cagliari’s famous Poetto
beach. As the cockles, squid and lobster teesed us from the menu,
we realise we only had our Visa on us and no cash. Sod’s law would have
it that they didn’t take cards.
Life goes slower here than the rest of Italy, and indeed most of Europe, with people taking things at their own pace. At first it stressed me out even more than I already was as I learnt to deal with the inefficient systems in place. Yes, it can be frustrating to queue for 90 minutes in the post office and then be turned away because it’s closing time, or find yourself in a Bed and Breakfast without towels because the owner didn’t have time to pick up fresh ones from the cleaners because she was having lunch with a friend, meaning you have to dry yourself with your face flannel. Both of which have happened to me on several occasions. But, in order to feel at home in Sardinia, you need to accept these traits as charming quirks. Indeed, I’ve learnt to smile when students are 20 minutes late for their lesson because they had to finish smoking their cigarettes in the bar around the corner or the hairdresser drops her scissors mid-appointment to have a natter with her aunt who is passing by. Located 180km off the west coast of the Italian mainland, Sardinia is the second largest island in the Mediterranean and is 260km from top to toe. If you are passing through Sardinia to see the island described in the guide books, though, you will miss these colourful exchanges of daily life which make living here so appealing. The chances are that you will think of the of the Costa Smeralda in the North, where boutiques have jostled with exclusive nightclubs, fine restaurants and luxury hotels ever since the Aga Khan discovered the 55km stretch of coastline in 1960. True, the turquoise waters and the white sands are appealing but the ‘real’ Sardinia lies elsewhere. In 1921 the British writer DH Lawrence described the island as “lost” between Europe and Africa and “belonging to nowhere” and that feeling still holds true today. Despite the built-up tourism between Alghero on the north west coast and San Teodoro on the north east coast, the rest of Sardinia feels untouched tourism in a way that’s hard to find in much of Europe today. Away from the tour-operators’ package holidays, menus are only available in Italian and most hotel and restaurant staff speak little English. Many older people, especially those brought up in small villages, only speak Sardinian and, I, too, have felt excluded on occasions when friends break into Sardo to share a joke at the dinner table. I may be fluent in italian, but when it comes to Sardo, which has more in common with Portughese and Spanish, I am clueless. Even different towns have varying dialects. Often an old person at the bus stop will ask me something in Sardo and, knowing that they don’t understand Italian, I have no way of communicating with them. I feel helpless and a stranger on the island that is now my home. The use of the Sardinian language, however, is a reminder that the island is ‘separate’ from the rest of Italy. Sardinia is one of Italy’s five special status regions (regioni a statuo speciale) and, as such, is autonomous, with a wide range of administrative and legistlative powers. The way that Sardinians feel towards their cousins on the peninsula is reflected in the language they use. They often refer to the Italian mainland as “the continent”. Indeed, the first time I heard Sardinians talking about someone who was working on the continent, it took me several minutes to realise they were talking about Italy, not Europe. One of the reasons for this “isolated” attitude is that once you move to Sardinia, it is difficult to leave. Ferries from Cagliari back to Civittavecchia, the bustling port near Rome, takes 12 hours, and if you want to head to Genoa on the Ligurian coast it doubles to 24 hours. Planes are quicker, cutting the journey to around 60 minutes but destinations are limited. Cagliari Elmas airport will take you to Rome, Venice, and Milan, while Alghero on the North East coast serves Bergamo and Rome. And while it can be cheap in the winter, summer tourists can hike prices up to hundreds of euros. With average wages at around 1,500 euros, it’s a cost few can afford. At first, this difficulty in travelling made me all the more determined to head back to Italy to enjoy the opportunies the major cities offer, and the more cosmolitan, open attitude. I used to head back two or three times a year, regardless of the cost involved. Now, though, it’s a different story and I rarely go back to the ‘continent’, preferring the life I have built for myself here. Waking up in the morning and seeing the mountains from my bedroom window energises me, ready for a morning of teaching English in the public high school. And at the weekend, my favourite pick-me-up is wandering through the macchia medditeranea, where an aromatic carpet of herbs grow under bushes of gorse, juniper, laurel, and myrtle. Combined with heather, lavender, thyme, rosemary, sage and other sweet-smelling plants, they produce an intense scent that is almost intoxicating. I also love being able to walk along the 8km-long Poetto Beach during my lunchbreaks or treat myself to a cappuccino in a sea-front bar. But August is the month that really makes me value what I have here in Sardinia. As Italy goes on shutdown and the Italians flock to the island to soak up the sun, the tourist spots do start to fill up with people fighting for space on the trendiest beaches on the Costa Smeralda and at La Cinta, in San Teodoro. But when that happens, I simply move on to a beach which is deserted – and I mean deserted, with me and my friends the only visitors – and swim in the calm sea which resembles a salt-water swimming pool created especially for us. A year on and I no longer teach Milena, Lucia, Antonella, and the gang but they have remained friends. They regularly call me up on a Saturday night to invite me out. Only the last time we went out, I noticed a definite shift in attitude. “Allora mi offri tu da bere?” Milena asked me as she beckoned over the waiter. “But I’m the guest,aren’t I?” I laughed. “Not any more,” she said. “You’re Sardinian now.” She paused, her smile wrinkling up her face. “Well, almost. It’s just a shame about your cooking.” Emma Bird is the founder of www.weaveaweb.it the social network for professional women in Sardinia. She also runs Iweaveaweb2, a mentoring service that works with Sardinian schools. To Contact
Emma at emma@weaveaweb.it
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