Sardegna...after the wedding

Some days are so easy and everything falls into place like a perfectly stacked serpentine line of dominoes. After a busy morning getting ready to leave – taking Megsy to the airport and welling up at her departure – we find a car and drive up to the north.

(Grazie Breda)

Gas stations on the side of the road in Italy shouldn’t have freshly made prosciutto sandwiches…but they do, of course. The men gather by the counter and lick at their prepackaged ice cream cones, staring at the foreigners. The three Sardinian girls working the counter giggle and smile at us.

We wind our way up up up the road to Tempio P., ears popping, the sky hazy, the smells of eucalyptus and olive floating into the car in gusts which toss the Panda about. A stop at a gas station to get en route and I am listening to the dark Italian’s directions and, for once, understanding everything.

The dirt road into the agriturismo cuts through a vineyard, horned bulls in the back lowing and a thunderstorm approaching with streaks of lightning cutting the sky. The mist obscures the mountains behind us.

We roll back from dinner full of the Agristurismo Campesi wine we had drunk before…the fresh ricotta and grilled zucchini…the pork risotto…the fine textured, buttery polenta…the Sardinian citrus cake…espresso, limoncella and now more wine…their Karka…and it is all wet on our porch, engulfed by dark vista, punctuated by flashes of blue lightning in the distant scrubby mountains. Cars sounding like fighter jets race along the road, past the vineyard, over the edge of nowhere and rocky crags.

(Grazie, Laura & Christos)