Posse avere un croissant marmellata albicocche asporto por favore?
Two months ago, all I knew about Sardinia was that it was an island on the coast of Italy, south of France and east of Spain. The city of the sun, beautiful beaches, tasty food maybe? A smirk finds it way to my lips and a giggle escapes at the thought of how clueless I was. Right now, I’m typing this in a park overlooking the marina, eating a croissant I ordered in Italian after I had a conversation with my friend Dalia who works at the local cafe. It’s funny how much you can learn in five weeks. I can tell you the importance of source separation, teach you how to make a rock sing and laugh when someone says their favorite type of bread is Italian.
Living in Sardinia taught me that my life is merely a centimeter on a stalactite, and I already have two millimeters down. Only I get to decide how I get to spend the remaining eight, so it is time for me to get over myself and my fears, relish in the present moment and actually enjoy my life. So, that is what I have done for the past five weeks, and it was probably one of the most valuable lessons I have learned. I stuttered through phrases in Italian attempting to string together barely coherent sentences, but I spoke. I felt how liberating it is to stumble through unfamiliar dances and learn the steps along the way. I have dined through several four hour meals, debating politics over the antipasti and reminiscing childhood memories over dessert. Not one calorie counted or worry about worked, we just chatted until the lemoncello was served, then slowly headed on our way. Slow. That’s it. Life in Sardinia is slower, more appreciative of time. Rather than rushing to and from, Sardinians stroll, perhaps stopping for a spritz on the way.
As with any great relationship, Sardinia was not love at first sight. We landed under a gloomy sky and retrieved our wet luggage from an empty airport. That first night, the waiter forgot my food and the man from the grocery store had to irritably explain how to pay for produce. Looking back, however, I would not be too happy to retrieve a group of Americans right before closing. Especially a group that did not know any Italian past “Ciao Bella” and expected everyone around them to comply with English. Over the first few days, I got into a routine and began see the the beauty of Sardinia and all the people in it. From our gatekeeper to the man who runs the desk at Fit Time Roby, I began recognizing and being recognized by more people, becoming a temporary member of their small community.
First things first, yes the food here is amazing. Squid ink pasta to sheep, mussels to myriad flavors of gelato, you name it, I tried it. That first night at dinner, I pointed to ‘Parmigiana’ on the pizza menu and hoped for the best. Two hours later, the waiter apologized for forgetting my order and I inhaled one of the best pizzas I have had. The crust to sauce to cheese ratio seemed to be more accurate than Redfield’s, the eggplant just tied it all together. Under the twinkling lights in Piazza Yenne, I fell in love with a pizza. Or so I thought, but more on that later.
That first week, I was determined to sample everything Sardinia had to offer. The Welcome Dinner was just one of several five course meals on the trip, but it was still one of the best. My favorite course was the fregola with clams and mussels, which I ate between sips naturally sparkly water. Once I looked down at my plate, full of mussel shells, bread with prosciutto and red wine, I could not help but smile. I sent a picture to my dad just to remind him that, despite my attempts at veganism, I am still his daughter.
I cannot lie, the food was overwhelming at first. I would stress over what I was eating and how little I was running, it was ridiculous. Finally, I got over myself and realized I am in Italy, I have worked hard for this and deserve to enjoy it. So, with a little help from my friends, I did my best to shut up the little voice in my head and got the gelato (stracciatella e nocciola por favore). We went for burgers at Bombas, for pasta at 140 gramme, for pizza at Grains, for drinks at Cave Bar. And of course, breakfast at Coccodi. I think about the protein powder I packed to keep up with my macros and laugh. Nothing can compare to a cappuccino soia e croissant vegan mirtilli. Thing about the food though, is that it is the people are who make it unforgettable.
Every morning, we meet at 8:02 (my bad) and walked down to Coccodi. Dalia greets us with a “Ciao Bellas” and tells us our orders to check she has them memorized correctly. We talk to her about our lives, where she has lived, our astrology compatibility. We traded our information and she asks us about school. Yes, the croissants flake perfectly and there is just enough foam in the cappuccino, but I love easing into my day, talking to my friends and giggling at whatever ridiculous plan I could think of that day. Now, I know Dalia is a libra who loves yoga and that she lived in Ames for a while, came back to visit her family but ended up staying. Her contract is up in November and we all invited her to visit us in Boston whenever she wants.
At first I thought this was an anomaly. The more restaurants we went to, the more great people we met. There were a few times we were sat in the back of restaurants and ignored by our waitstaff, but the majority of experiences have been incredible. So many waiters and waitress listened patiently as we struggled to order in Italian and encouraged us as the vowels awkwardly left our mouths in fragments. Some even lied to tell us our Italian was great, just to make us feel better. One night, we went to get gelato at the little shop in Piazza Yenne. The woman behind the counter helped us sample all the flavors, speaking slowly and clearly, almost convincing me I actually know Italian. We sat and talked to her for an hour. It turns out she lived in New York City for three years, studying economics. She tells us how she knows what it feels like to be us, and I realize that being empathic is universal. Italian or American, a little kindness and understanding goes a long way.
One tradition we started on this trip is Thursday night sushi at Nara. At first it was simply because “All You Can Eat” was 15% off in May and the wine is only 5 Euro/liter. Now, though, it’s become some sort of a sacred place. This is the place I fell in love with raw fish, but also where I have spent hours getting to know women who are now some of closest friends. I cannot say what we looked like to everyone sitting around us; they’d probably call us stupid Americans. We traded secrets, chatted about our boyfriends, cried over life stories and practiced our winking. I cannot put into words how grateful I am to have met these amazing women and cannot explain how much they have taught and supported me, but I am so appreciative to have experienced this with them. Sardinia brought us closer, as cliche as that sounds, but I am so thankful for it. Sushi also introduced us to our waitress Rhea. Although we were in a Japanese restaurant in Italy, Rhea spoke near perfect English. She learned our names and our favorite rolls, helped us navigate through the menu, and we learned a lot about her. Rhea explained how she had to dropout of college when her mother got pregnant, so she works at Nara full-time. At only 19, Rhea is more selfless than anyone I know. Hearing Rhea tell her story taught me that everyone has their own story and struggles, however how you deal with it is your choice. Every time we saw her, Rhea had a bright smile and so eager to talk to us or have us try a new roll she was working on. Despite any circumstances, she didn’t let that dull her sparkle, which is something I am trying to work on myself.
Last week, we met Siro and I am almost convinced to move to Sardinia (sorry Charlie ;) ). A group of us went to Grains, and it was here that I actually had the best pizza in my life. My dad would be proud of the menu; each pizza was carefully paired with a beer. Our waiter came out wearing a black T-Shirt that had the information label of a unisex T-shirt label on it. He knew the menu like the back of his hand and paired our pizzas with wine as if it was some sort of common knowledge. He took our orders without writing them down, reassuring us that he’s the “Forrest Gump of Sardinia.” I know charisma is the word, but as you looked closer at Siro, you realized how much more important personality is than looks. Regardless, he spoke to people with such ease that you felt like you knew him for your entire life. He would pull up a chair next to our outdoor table and chat with us in between greeting customers. In these bits we learned that he is actually the owner, who turned his cocktail restaurant into a pizza place (which is also the top-rated on yelp). When I asked him his name, he stole a pen off of a waitress and wrote it out phonetically, explaining that the English tend to “screw it up.” At the end of the meal, he took a shot of Mirto with us, pulled up a seat next to me and lit a cigarette. Normally, I’d be appalled but as Siro explained he drank too much and only got an hour of sleep the night before, we had to laugh. He was 45 going on 22, or so he told us. Anyways, meeting Siro taught me the importance of not taking yourself too seriously. Sometimes you just have to get over yourself and have some fun. He built a thriving business and is having the time of his life running it. He may be the owner, but he’s still serving all of his customers, joking around and genuinely enjoying his life. Oh and the wine paired perfectly with pizza, by the way.
The city of the sun taught me more than I could have ever expected to learn. It taught me about solid waste management, but also about culture, people and myself. I can confidently say I know infinitely more about recycling and proper waste handling, but I can also say I know so many more amazing people. From engineering guest lecturers to waitstaff in restaurants to my newfound friends, they all have taught me lessons that I will keep with me for the rest of my days. Sardinia is beautiful: a place I can imagine spending the rest of my life. At least for now, Sardinia was an affirmation that I can live on my own, because with the right attitude, you never really are.
Two months ago, all I knew about Sardinia was that it was an island on the coast of Italy, south of France and east of Spain. The city of the sun, beautiful beaches, tasty food maybe? A smirk finds it way to my lips and a giggle escapes at the thought of how clueless I was. Right now, I’m typing this in a park overlooking the marina, eating a croissant I ordered in Italian after I had a conversation with my friend Dalia who works at the local cafe. It’s funny how much you can learn in five weeks. I can tell you the importance of source separation, teach you how to make a rock sing and laugh when someone says their favorite type of bread is Italian.
Living in Sardinia taught me that my life is merely a centimeter on a stalactite, and I already have two millimeters down. Only I get to decide how I get to spend the remaining eight, so it is time for me to get over myself and my fears, relish in the present moment and actually enjoy my life. So, that is what I have done for the past five weeks, and it was probably one of the most valuable lessons I have learned. I stuttered through phrases in Italian attempting to string together barely coherent sentences, but I spoke. I felt how liberating it is to stumble through unfamiliar dances and learn the steps along the way. I have dined through several four hour meals, debating politics over the antipasti and reminiscing childhood memories over dessert. Not one calorie counted or worry about worked, we just chatted until the lemoncello was served, then slowly headed on our way. Slow. That’s it. Life in Sardinia is slower, more appreciative of time. Rather than rushing to and from, Sardinians stroll, perhaps stopping for a spritz on the way.
As with any great relationship, Sardinia was not love at first sight. We landed under a gloomy sky and retrieved our wet luggage from an empty airport. That first night, the waiter forgot my food and the man from the grocery store had to irritably explain how to pay for produce. Looking back, however, I would not be too happy to retrieve a group of Americans right before closing. Especially a group that did not know any Italian past “Ciao Bella” and expected everyone around them to comply with English. Over the first few days, I got into a routine and began see the the beauty of Sardinia and all the people in it. From our gatekeeper to the man who runs the desk at Fit Time Roby, I began recognizing and being recognized by more people, becoming a temporary member of their small community.
First things first, yes the food here is amazing. Squid ink pasta to sheep, mussels to myriad flavors of gelato, you name it, I tried it. That first night at dinner, I pointed to ‘Parmigiana’ on the pizza menu and hoped for the best. Two hours later, the waiter apologized for forgetting my order and I inhaled one of the best pizzas I have had. The crust to sauce to cheese ratio seemed to be more accurate than Redfield’s, the eggplant just tied it all together. Under the twinkling lights in Piazza Yenne, I fell in love with a pizza. Or so I thought, but more on that later.
That first week, I was determined to sample everything Sardinia had to offer. The Welcome Dinner was just one of several five course meals on the trip, but it was still one of the best. My favorite course was the fregola with clams and mussels, which I ate between sips naturally sparkly water. Once I looked down at my plate, full of mussel shells, bread with prosciutto and red wine, I could not help but smile. I sent a picture to my dad just to remind him that, despite my attempts at veganism, I am still his daughter.
I cannot lie, the food was overwhelming at first. I would stress over what I was eating and how little I was running, it was ridiculous. Finally, I got over myself and realized I am in Italy, I have worked hard for this and deserve to enjoy it. So, with a little help from my friends, I did my best to shut up the little voice in my head and got the gelato (stracciatella e nocciola por favore). We went for burgers at Bombas, for pasta at 140 gramme, for pizza at Grains, for drinks at Cave Bar. And of course, breakfast at Coccodi. I think about the protein powder I packed to keep up with my macros and laugh. Nothing can compare to a cappuccino soia e croissant vegan mirtilli. Thing about the food though, is that it is the people are who make it unforgettable.
Every morning, we meet at 8:02 (my bad) and walked down to Coccodi. Dalia greets us with a “Ciao Bellas” and tells us our orders to check she has them memorized correctly. We talk to her about our lives, where she has lived, our astrology compatibility. We traded our information and she asks us about school. Yes, the croissants flake perfectly and there is just enough foam in the cappuccino, but I love easing into my day, talking to my friends and giggling at whatever ridiculous plan I could think of that day. Now, I know Dalia is a libra who loves yoga and that she lived in Ames for a while, came back to visit her family but ended up staying. Her contract is up in November and we all invited her to visit us in Boston whenever she wants.
At first I thought this was an anomaly. The more restaurants we went to, the more great people we met. There were a few times we were sat in the back of restaurants and ignored by our waitstaff, but the majority of experiences have been incredible. So many waiters and waitress listened patiently as we struggled to order in Italian and encouraged us as the vowels awkwardly left our mouths in fragments. Some even lied to tell us our Italian was great, just to make us feel better. One night, we went to get gelato at the little shop in Piazza Yenne. The woman behind the counter helped us sample all the flavors, speaking slowly and clearly, almost convincing me I actually know Italian. We sat and talked to her for an hour. It turns out she lived in New York City for three years, studying economics. She tells us how she knows what it feels like to be us, and I realize that being empathic is universal. Italian or American, a little kindness and understanding goes a long way.
One tradition we started on this trip is Thursday night sushi at Nara. At first it was simply because “All You Can Eat” was 15% off in May and the wine is only 5 Euro/liter. Now, though, it’s become some sort of a sacred place. This is the place I fell in love with raw fish, but also where I have spent hours getting to know women who are now some of closest friends. I cannot say what we looked like to everyone sitting around us; they’d probably call us stupid Americans. We traded secrets, chatted about our boyfriends, cried over life stories and practiced our winking. I cannot put into words how grateful I am to have met these amazing women and cannot explain how much they have taught and supported me, but I am so appreciative to have experienced this with them. Sardinia brought us closer, as cliche as that sounds, but I am so thankful for it. Sushi also introduced us to our waitress Rhea. Although we were in a Japanese restaurant in Italy, Rhea spoke near perfect English. She learned our names and our favorite rolls, helped us navigate through the menu, and we learned a lot about her. Rhea explained how she had to dropout of college when her mother got pregnant, so she works at Nara full-time. At only 19, Rhea is more selfless than anyone I know. Hearing Rhea tell her story taught me that everyone has their own story and struggles, however how you deal with it is your choice. Every time we saw her, Rhea had a bright smile and so eager to talk to us or have us try a new roll she was working on. Despite any circumstances, she didn’t let that dull her sparkle, which is something I am trying to work on myself.
Last week, we met Siro and I am almost convinced to move to Sardinia (sorry Charlie ;) ). A group of us went to Grains, and it was here that I actually had the best pizza in my life. My dad would be proud of the menu; each pizza was carefully paired with a beer. Our waiter came out wearing a black T-Shirt that had the information label of a unisex T-shirt label on it. He knew the menu like the back of his hand and paired our pizzas with wine as if it was some sort of common knowledge. He took our orders without writing them down, reassuring us that he’s the “Forrest Gump of Sardinia.” I know charisma is the word, but as you looked closer at Siro, you realized how much more important personality is than looks. Regardless, he spoke to people with such ease that you felt like you knew him for your entire life. He would pull up a chair next to our outdoor table and chat with us in between greeting customers. In these bits we learned that he is actually the owner, who turned his cocktail restaurant into a pizza place (which is also the top-rated on yelp). When I asked him his name, he stole a pen off of a waitress and wrote it out phonetically, explaining that the English tend to “screw it up.” At the end of the meal, he took a shot of Mirto with us, pulled up a seat next to me and lit a cigarette. Normally, I’d be appalled but as Siro explained he drank too much and only got an hour of sleep the night before, we had to laugh. He was 45 going on 22, or so he told us. Anyways, meeting Siro taught me the importance of not taking yourself too seriously. Sometimes you just have to get over yourself and have some fun. He built a thriving business and is having the time of his life running it. He may be the owner, but he’s still serving all of his customers, joking around and genuinely enjoying his life. Oh and the wine paired perfectly with pizza, by the way.
The city of the sun taught me more than I could have ever expected to learn. It taught me about solid waste management, but also about culture, people and myself. I can confidently say I know infinitely more about recycling and proper waste handling, but I can also say I know so many more amazing people. From engineering guest lecturers to waitstaff in restaurants to my newfound friends, they all have taught me lessons that I will keep with me for the rest of my days. Sardinia is beautiful: a place I can imagine spending the rest of my life. At least for now, Sardinia was an affirmation that I can live on my own, because with the right attitude, you never really are.
It’s the Catalina Wine Mixer
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