Lost in the sauce of Sardinia
Sheep. Humid and cold. Cliffs. Highliners & Hippies. Ghost towns. Sardines for lunch in a plastic bowl with olive oil. White sand beaches. Uncomfyness. Sleep? No. Quiet roads. Colourful towns. Rainbows and flamingos. You guessed it, Sardinia! The night before I left for my biketrip, my friends and I met at Drummond beach on Saltspring and had a campfire. We threw freshly fallen leaves into the flames and set intentions for the upcoming winter. Everyone said “calm, quiet, peaceful, stillness.” I hucked three in and asked for adventure, movement and chaos. I love my friends and I hope their fire wishes are coming true because mine sure are. Sardinia was like an acid trip. The first half dreamy and sweet and the second half a tensioned nightmare. Sometimes you can really feel when you are on an island, especially if you are “stuck” on one (I only found after arriving the next ferry to leave was in three weeks.) But It’s not Sardinia’s fa...