Wednesday, July 15, 2015


Arriving in Sardinia brought back vivid memories of a horror film called The Hills Have Eyes. The village was as a ‘ghost town’ and while wandering through to find our apartment, I was extremely grateful that Jake was alongside me. The ghost town went by the name of Teulada, not far from the coastline, in south-west Sardinia. 

When we found our apartment at the top of the hill, the lovely family that owned it informed us that shops were open between 5 and 8pm and restaurants from 8pm onwards. Two larger supermarkets (better resembling small corner shops) opened in the morning for an hour or so, but the general consensus was that from 11am until 5pm, there were no humans in the village. It was so quiet, Jake and I would almost whisper on our way to the beach in the middle of the day. Siesta was taken extremely seriously. 

At first this seemed so strange and surreal to me, but after a day or two, we got into a routine with the locals – plus nothing beats having an entire beach to yourself until the neighbourhood turns up at 5pm for an evening sunbathe. 

The village was quaint and traditional, with a large church just behind the centre, a couple of supermarkets and a few restaurants and pizzerias. Days were spent on the beach, exploring Teulada and Chia (the latter being a bus ride away), feeding Joey (the Sardinian horse we made friends with), bike riding up the extremely tough mountains that made Egham Hill look like a kiddies training hill, eating way too much Pizza and admiring the long windy roads that led to just about everywhere. 

My only complaint is that Sardinian food had nothing on Italy – more than likely because Teulada, as well as surrounding towns, was a fishing village and if there’s one thing I can’t stand, its fish! I had set my sights on the magic of Italian fresh fruit and pasta filling my tummy with joy for the entire week, which meant I had sadly set myself up for disappointment. I guess the only cure would be another trip to Italy for some good Italian cuisines (There’s always a silver lining). 

Unlike Italy, Sardinia - or at least Teulada - was light on tourists. Nobody spoke English, which always makes things a little more interesting as you feel miles away from home. The lack of familiarity was so much so, that when we bumped into an English couple on the last evening, we stared at them in shock. If I’m honest, it’s a lot lovelier to holiday in an environment that immerses you in another culture – forcing you to attempt to communicate and learn the ways of the locals. 

Overall it was a beautiful Island, one that would be much better visited with a car no doubt, as I am sure there is much more to see.

Next stop on the Italian checklist might have to be Naples or Sicily.


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