Having not known where Sardinia was before my boyfriend and I showed an interest in the Italian island for our summer holiday (I assumed from the phonetics it was near to Tunisia), I can inform you it is below Corsica, north-west of Sicily, and uncomfortably near to Africa. I say uncomfortably near just because of the intense influx of Looky-Looky men on every aspect of our holiday, proffering their wares at the worst of times. And by the worst of times, I mean at a pivotal point in my book on the beach, or when the waiter is taking our order at a rustic restaurant, which requires 100% concentration and no distractions because of the bullet-proof language barrier (Southern Sardinians not being used to many tourists).
We stayed in Cagliari - the capital of the island - a pleasant, lively but laid-back harbour town on the Southern coast. The people are friendly, the buses are free (well, not really, but we easily avoided paying for any) and the food is SUBLIME.
Our first day was indefinitely a matter of trial and error. Trial - walking from the hotel to the 'beach', or what looked like and technically should have been on the map, it was where the buildings stopped and the sea started. Error - after forty minutes walking ending up standing in silence overlooking industrial rigs, cranes and ships, seagulls shrieking overhead. Resolution - walking into a pizzeria and enquiring where the nearest beach was. Italian waiter sucks in his breath, processing our staggered English voiced in Italian accents, and directed us to the bus stop. Bus was free, beach was near, everything was fine.
Trial number 2 - asking at the reception of the T Hotel for a restaurant reccommendation and confidently leaving the hotel hand-in-hand, 70 euros between us, Cagliari is our oyster and we will hopefully be eating them soon.... Error - being entirely unprepared for a unique cuisine experience. At 4 Mori restaurant they serve whatever seafood is fresh, there is no menu. Baby octopus, buttery prawns in crunchy celery, mussels, tomatoes with tuna, calamari, snails (ew, my one no-go), and many more compulsary starters followed by a big steaming bowl of spaghetti with mussels and crab each...we had died and gone to King Trident's grand underwater feast. However, being forced to decline (in our best and clearest English) a fish course, dessert and a plate of biscottis to finish, we were presented with the folded bill by the beaming, red-faced, round-bellied host. It was more money than we had. Quite a lot more. After downing our (thank God) complimentary extremely strong alcoholic drink post bill-presenting, and more than a little red-faced, we remembered Matthew had his debit card handy and made a swift exit. MAJOR error.
Every night post-4 Mori 100 euros nestled reassuringly in our wallets. But was never needed - no bill ever came close. Cagliari is very good value for money and you get what you pay for. When you pay 4euros for a bottle of house wine, you get drunk. When you pay 11euros for a parasol and two sunbeds on Poetto beach, you don't get a tan because it's too hot to venture from under the parasol. When you pay 75euros for a Renault Clio for 24 hours, you get a full tank of petrol and a memorable day out, namely an hour's venture south to Chia where there are apparently the most beautiful beaches on the whole island. And I do not disagree - the sky was so blue we could see Africa and the sea was so clear we could see the tiny fish eating Matthew's leg hairs.
Why do so many people venture to overpriced, overtoured, overpopular Italy when there is a quieter, cheaper version just to the West? I have never been to Italy, and obviously want to go, but I would consider Sardinia as a great 'warm up'. This is not an insult. It is not overwhelming, you do not feel compelled to go go go every day, and it is quite acceptable to order an authentic pizzeria takeaway and buy a 3euro bottle of wine and eat and drink in the bath (nowhere, not even restaurants, open on Sundays).
Maybe the big boot of Italy was kicking little Sicily because it is jealous of Sardinia.
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