Internet is hard to come by in Sardegna, and for good reason. Why worry what the rest of the world is worrying about? Around here one frets about littering on the beach. Why, just last night there was a twenty minute news report about cigarette butts on the beach. One older gentleman proposed using empty advil containers as ash trays. Nothing extraordinary, but genius none the less.
The words I want to write are simple, as the way of life is simple. One may rise at eight, have a few too many espressos, take a leisurely walk down to the water, pass a catapult or ancient watch tower or two, and find the shop keepers still preparing their merchandise, and that the town is still rising. Of course, siesta is near, so one mustn’t get too used to browsing.
Life begins after dinner, really. And for good thing — I’ll let the photos speak for themselves. Alghero’s history seems to be stuck somewhere between the eleventh century, and today. The children speak English as adults shake their heads. I live in the outskirts of town, above an older couple, Pina and Giorgio, and a younger woman, perhaps a few years my senior, Gulianna. The generation gaps make no matter, there is still no WiFi, no dryer, and no air conditioner if the radio or water heater is on, but there is fresh basil, lemon trees, and lilacs galore. There is a McDonald’s, yes, which is where I am sitting now to write these few words. All there is to know is that the tomatoes are ripe, the cheese is fresh, and at night, there is always a purple sky.