Sardinia.

ALGHERO ANTICS.

e arrive late in Alghero to my late husband’s cousins apartment. We haven’t been there for many years but as I walk in it feels like home. There’s even a painting I did for them as a thank you hanging in the kitchen.

The rooms are grand with high ceilings and the walls and shelves covered with Sardinian artefacts. In my bedroom a huge painting of a mermaid covers most of the wall, keeping me company. We open the shutters to a view of the port and restaurants below.

After settling in we go to a traditional Sardinian restaurant and have the special ravioli called curlurgiones made of potatoes and cheese, served with butter and sage.

The port comes alive just as we are settling down for the night. The town is in full summer holiday mode. At one a.m. there are families wandering around with the little kids, buskers playing and singing, fire eaters, bands playing - right under my window. But it is life and living and I fall asleep to the rhythms and excitement of holidaymakers.

The next day I head to the markets to shop. My late husband and I would go together and buy seafood. I remember they would offer you a mussel to eat raw so that you would know how fresh they were. Sadly it is half the size as it used to be, maybe supermarkets are taking over. I buy the small coral coloured prawns which they say to eat raw but I’m going to cook them. I buy the mussels and calamari to make a seafood marinara.

But returning home, I find the memories of our last trip there cooking and shopping with my husband and I am overwhelmed and sad. I just had what would have been our 32nd anniversary and then father’s day and I suddenly sink into depression.

The next day we go to the beach we went to last time, where we found pine nuts and white mulberries. The sea is crystal clear and beautiful, we lie under a pinoli (pine nut) tree and absorb the last of the summer sun. There's a little library nestled in a clump of trees and we share a seafood lunch. The tide has turned on my emotions.

The sunsets every night over the port are stunning, we walk the cobbled streets and have gelato. We peek into the churches and one night they are practising their singing which is so beautiful echoing through the vast space. We head up to the ramparts of the cities medieval walls to look back on the town full of twinkling lights.

We swim everyday at our little beach and play games at night, the windows open to cool the humidity and late summer heat. But I never quite lose the sense of loss here and what could have been, what it would be like to be here with my husband and so the days pass slowly. I walk my way through the sadness and coax myself out of it for my daughter’s birthday.

We celebrate at a restaurant in an arched walkway. The waiter has cousins in Melbourne (of course) , I mention it’s the daughter’s birthday and he brings us free Prosecco. We try fried sea urchins with a delicate mayonnaise; oysters; the raw prawns in a capsicum puree with watermelon (which I found slightly odd) and I had rooster, roasted with peppers and mustard cooked under a brick which was tasty; then an amaretto semifreddo with marmalade and chocolate sauce and we tried the famous sweet ricotta pastries that are fried and served with an orange sauce.

Then we head up to the balcony on top of the apartment for a view of Alghero, the night air is still hot but a faint breeze cools us.

The next night we hear music and look out the window and we see traditional Sardinian dancers and a stage set up. We have the best view but join the crowd down below and watch as the dancers slowly do their steps and later models parade Sardinian designers clothes.

The next day, we go on a boat tour. It’s one of the only surviving old wooden boats and we go from bay to bay, the azure waters full of fish; the stark cliffs rising up out of the waters. There’s a cave here at water level where they found the fossilised remains of a deer that must have fallen from above through a hole down into the cavern where the remains of a stone age shelter were found. The problem with our swim locations are jellyfish, they seem to be everywhere. Eventually we stop where there are only a few and they scoop them up and take them further out for us to swim! The privilege of us humans!

We snorkel for ages, so many fish! And then lunch on board. Our companion sharing our table is Yuri, he says he’s Hungarian but when I try to have a google conversation with him, he says it’s easier in Russian and when I ask him if he can recommend places to visit in Hungary, he is very evasive. We begin to suspect he might be Russian and doesn’t want to reveal it. He’s so lovely and it brings home the fact that ordinary Russians are caught up in this war whether they like it or not and if they do travel, they would feel uncomfortable. But for now Yuri is Hungarian and we enjoy our food together.

Although I’m not that keen on the crab pasta, I can’t detect any crab and so I don’t eat much. The large sized Captain comes by and says I must eat to be able to have the next course. He’s been checking on all those who haven’t finished the pasta. He says it’s because we have drunk all the wine - "an emergency" he says in Italian, bring more. So my not consuming my pasta brings us an extra bottle of wine. We drink more and have a laugh at his antics.

Then we have a dish of mussels, then fruit and to finish off we have Limoncello and an aniseed flavoured biscuit which is really good. Then we have a last swim before heading back to the port alongside seagulls and fish.

Next day, I coffee at an old cafe and I have an amazing lunch of octopus with eggplant and a squid ink sauce.

And then I check out the shops of coral, embroidery and basket weaving which is what Sardinia is famous for. There's interesting pottery as well, birds are big here. I also go to the Museum and there's an interesting exhibition on Jewish people who escaped via Sardinia for America during WWII. There's a suitcase of clothes that they left with friends and never came back for that form a part of the exhibition.

Next day it's time to leave Alghero for Modena.