We gave Kia our car hire a rest today and after breakfast and my customary early morning walk to the beach we set off into town. Headed right to the edge of Cannigione where the caffe del sol provided us with another excellent shakerato or two.
We wandered back into town afterwards, managing to avoid the collective name for a group of Italian school children, which I think should be called a “shout”.
Google was saying that our chosen restaurant for lunch La Randa was temporarily closed, although from the street the tables on the balcony looked all laid up and ready to go. It only opened at 12 anyhow so we went around the town a few times and then ended up in the Bar del Porto. We enjoyed a glass of very pleasant vermentino. The mature very friendly waiter who helped us with our ordering in Sardinian Italian and showed us the label of the bottle came from nearby Arzachena.
Back at the restaurant at 12:15. We were the first customers in and got a lovely table outside on the balcony overlooking the street.
The diminutive, but energetic waitress quickly bought us a bottle of the same wine we had just enjoyed around the corner.
We shared a starter of sautéed mussels in a rich tomato sauce, and artichoke hearts cooked a special way, both of which were delicious .
Heather’s main course of swordfish and mine of grilled prawns were both excellent although I do think the prawns should have been deveined.
We shared a local speciality called a Seadas, which is a deep fried pastry, filled with lemony cheese and drizzled with honey. More savoury than sweet apart from the honey, it was a lovely way to end the meal.
The service and the food had both been exceptional, and it was easy to see why La Randa holds number one spot out of the 42 restaurants in Cannigione. One chef and his assistant and the one pocket rocket of a waitress, were all the staff it took to keep the whole restaurant happy which was approximately 24 of us spread over five tables.
€100 lighter of pocket, but substantially heavier of stomach, we set off back to our apartment.
We spent the rest of a lazy afternoon reading and relaxing, almost like we were on holiday!
It was lovely to talk to Mum on her birthday and I was pleased to hear she had received and liked her proteas. She sounded in fine form and we had a good 30 minute chat.
We had really enjoyed our time in Cannigione which is very well located for exploring the region and the town itself is quite charming. Not too big, but with plenty of facilities, including lots of good restaurants, views of the sea and a nice harbour area and some lively bars and pubs. and it’s all quite sensibly priced considering you’re in the heart of the Costa Smeralda.
I can understand why there are lots of boats moored here, and none in Porto Cervo.
I went for my customary early morning walk and it was a lovely day.
The plan after breakfast was to make a circular tour to Porto Cervo and Porto Rotondo. On our last visit to the latter there had been a big boat show in operation, and it was difficult to appreciate the place properly with the associated crowds of people.
We set off with neatish hair and smartish clothes at around 9:45. We arrived about half an hour later, and easily found parking, after being gesticulated and shouted at by the short tempered, impatient, Italian driver behind us.
It is clear that nobody pays any attention whatsoever to the speed restrictions, ignoring them completely. And paying scant attention to either the white line in the middle of the road, or the no overtaking signs. The Italian government may as well save some money and not put any signs up at all.
Porto Cervo was a triumph of style over substance. We saw boutique shop after boutique shop, big brands empty of all customers but with languid looking staff, lounging around giving the impression that customers were very rare thing indeed.
And no boats in the marina ? Not a single one. As we sat in the nearby café, sipping our €12 worth of cappuccino and shakarato, we surmised that they had completely priced themselves out of the market.
What a shame to see all these facilities and nobody using them at all. Oh well, I guess it did lend a certain area of exclusivity to the place.
The extract from Wikipedia sums it up. “Porto Cervo is an Italian seaside resort in northern Sardinia. Created by Prince Karim Aga Khan and various other investors, Porto Cervo is the main centre of Costa Smeralda. It has a resident population of 421 inhabitants. Porto Cervo has been named one of the most expensive resorts in the world, along as being a luxury yacht magnet and billionaires’ playground.”
I’m afraid the magnet has lost its magnetism.
The population suddenly swelled with the arrival of a number of tourist buses. We beat a hasty retreat back to the car and set off for the half an hour journey to Porto Rotundo.
Ah that’s more like it, lively and busy, but not overrun with people this port shows signs of its success.
We had spotted the restaurant that I’ve been researching called Onorio e Donatella. It looked like it may be open, so we parked up and walked back up the hill. We were greeted by Onorio with enthusiasm and as we were his first customers of the day, he gave us a nice table right in the centre of the main part of the restaurant with a wood fire burning in the background.
Whilst researching this place, I had come across their menu, which offered porchettu the local speciality of suckling pig, roasted and it also served pizzas which Heather had been wanting to have since we arrived.
Donatella who speaks excellent English came over to take our drinks order. A half litre of very quaffable house wine from a plastic flask and a bottle of local beer.
Onorio was enthused by my commitment to roast suckling pig and I assured him that the 10 minute waiting time was no problem at all. Here was a man who clearly loves his job. He sang heartily to himself while stoking the flames of his fire with a large poker.
Two part roasted pigs were hung up above the flames. I did hope that wasn’t all for me.
Heather’s pizza arrived, and it was both substantial and delicious.
I was presented with a large portion of roasted sausage to keep my hunger at bay. They would have been enough on their own.
A few minutes later, a portion of pig was hacked from the roasted carcass in a very medieval fashion by Onario wielding a large cleaver. He couldn’t be having more fun.
I was delivered a large plate full of crackling, bones and tender pork meat. And potatoes on the side, which I had no chance of finishing or even starting.
Gradually, the restaurant filled almost entirely with locals most of whom had the same thing in mind, roasted meat.
They were obviously regular customers as they were prepared to help themselves to beer and wine and just waved at the proprietors to say that they had done so.
Many appeared to be local workers on their lunch breaks in dungarees, jeans or overalls.
The noise levels rose, and the music was turned up to compensate.
What a brilliant place!
Eventually, I finish my plate, leaving a small pile of bones. I expect a more experienced customer would’ve been able to extract a lot more from the carcass. That was also true of Heather and her pile of uneaten pizza crusts.
A wonderful meal and we felt we had experienced a slice of the best that the locals had to offer. And were enjoying themselves.
Very satisfied we drove back to the apartment and had a quiet rest of the afternoon. After walking around the estate to look at whether the shop was open, which it was but only with a display of sandals, I realised that there was a back patio to our apartment.
I opened up the sliding door and moved some chairs and a small side table outside. We could and did sit in the sun!
Only five days into our trip and suddenly the cold apartment came alive with a sun trap patio. Crickey it was hot. Too hot. I was soon back inside sheltering in the cool shade..
The apartment is well located, clean and has a good view. You could argue it is under equipped in the kitchen, with no kettle, no microwave and no oven. Its main fault though is that the walls are paper thin. And the neighbours are extremely loud.
So we can hear the neighbours going to the toilet, snoring, their dog barking, we can smell their smoking and hear the conversations going on until very late on one side and starting very early on the other.
All Italians seem also to be experts in chair dragging. Maybe they teach it at school? If it was an Olympic sport, the Italians would be gold medalists.
So we have met our neighbours in passing – the ones on the left have greeted us in French and German, he likes to spit grape seeds into the flower beds and she likes to walk onto our patio while on the phone. The ones on our right are incredibly noisy.
The apartments up above us at Tanna Manca are £849 a night. Ours are around £100. They are all overpriced, especially the ones at Tanna Manca. The sporting hotel between us and them is closed. Maybe it will open again in May.
Even though this has been one of the lesser quality RCI swops, we’ve enjoyed our stay in spite the noisiness. Now we’ve discovered the double aspect to our accommodation the whole apartment has been transformed.
No dinner needed or wanted. Time for a glass of red and then bed.
The strong wind of yesterday had died completely, and we thought this would be an excellent opportunity to go over and explore the Maddalena archipelago – a set of 7 islands off the northern coast of the island.
I did my customary walk first and the beach was beautiful again in the still conditions.
Wildflowers on the walk to the beach
Our photography group theme this month is “framed” – this might work
We bought a ticket for the ferry online and paid €18.80 for a return trip. We nominated 1015 as our outbound time, but given we were ready earlier than that we left the apartment at around 9 o’clock what is the wind in coast road to get us into Palau by about 20 past. We were directed straight into the queue for the ferry and we were soon on board.
We squeezed out of the car and went and stood up on the passenger decks. Here we listen to some reggae and marvelled in the scenery. It’s a short journey, only 20 minutes.
We sailed past the island of Santo Stefano, from which Napoleon had launched his attack on Maddalena, To be fair, it wasn’t far – probably a couple of drives and a three iron.
Having skilfully and smoothly berthed we drove off and into the buzzy centre of the town of Le Maddalena.
We decided to drive straight to the neighbouring island of Caprera, which was connected to Maddalena by a concrete bridge and thin roadway.
This is a beautiful island with pine forests and covered with verdant maquis, an infinite number of small, private sheltered coves, and the occasional sandy beach to fall in love with.
We drove as far as we could, round the east side of the island, and then went back and up into the mountainous area from which we enjoyed extensive use both of the two islands of Corsica and the dark, brooding craggy shape of Corsica itself, that was seemingly quite close to us.
We stopped briefly at Garibaldi’s monument, but weren’t sure whether it was open as the gate looked firmly closed, although there were other cars parked there.
On the way back to the crossing to Maddalena, we saw a long thin green snake crossing the road, and we watched as it wiggled into the undergrowth.
We had seen the fruit and veg and clothing market in the square as we arrived but hadn’t managed to find parking earlier on so we found a convenient spot this time, adjacent to the harbour just outside the government building.
We had a coffee on the edge of the Market Square, which was very pleasant, but a bit too small in volume. It did give us the opportunity to watch the passers-by and enjoy the sunshine.
We wandered around the town which was very charming, buying the obligatory fridge magnets and had a look to see which restaurant or pizza place we might fancy.
We bought some pears and some strawberries at the market and realise that it’s now approaching 12:30 so went back to Raby’s pizza restaurant to discover that the tables outside were all now taken.
We found another restaurant in the square, near the Garibaldi statue, and Heather had a caprese salad with tuna. I had a salami pizza and a radler.
We weren’t expecting to see Graeme here!
We did a half an hour circuit of the island by car, again enjoying the views of Corsica.
When we got back to the port the ferry which was about to depart had one space left for a small car like ours. Imagine the disgusted look on the face of the Mercedes driver as we were waved past him onto the last remaining spot on the boat.
There wasn’t space on either side of the car to open the doors to get out, so we stayed inside for the brief 20 minute journey.
On the way back to the apartment, we detoured to the Capo D’Orso so as to see the bear rock, Heather thinks it looks more like a chipmunk. you can climb it, but it was a hot day and we decided it was just as easy to admire the chipmunk from the road below.
We enjoyed breaded fish and bullet-like peas (we have to boil these ones longer) for dinner and I developed a taste for the Mirto and had a second glass…
The wind was howling and it felt like a day for a road trip rather than being outside too much. I did walk down to the beach and it was atmospheric, dark clouds speeding past overhead and the light all gothic and gloomy. I took far too many photos. But maybe like monkeys and typewriters one or two will be worthy.
Monkeys and typewriters…
Our plan was to do a circuit of the local noteworthy towns within an easy drive of our base in Cannigione. So that included Sant’Antonio di Gallura, Calangianus, Tempio Pausania, Aggius and Luogosanto. In all just over 2hrs driving.
There was a road that went over the mountain from the apartment via the outskirts of Arzachena and so we took that, just to see what it was like, but fearing a small and winding to-be-avoided-again experience. It was fine.
Soon we spotted signs for the Tomba dei Giganti de Coddu Veccju. I had been reading about the myths related to giants and so was keen to stop and see what all the fuss was about. To see more – here’s an interesting short video https://youtu.be/SMGCiuUABUY
We bought tickets for this and a well preserved Nuraghic ruin site called Nuraghe La Prisgiona. Fascinating.
Were giant skeletons discovered in Sardinia and then they mysteriously vanished? Are the many statues that have been found true to life and do they represent a super race or visitors from another planet? Heather is understandably a sceptic.
We pressed on to Sant’Antonio di Gallura. I parked, badly, scraping the front plastic thingy under the bonnet. No real harm done. I stepped inside the tourist information office and was held captive by the enthusiastic man who clearly hadn’t had another visitor for days if not weeks. After twenty minutes Heather came to find me and we both were shown the clothing that had been found on bodies excavated in the renovation of the church and also the giant crocheted blankets recently crafted by the villagers to celebrate…something.
But where are the windswept rocks in the small archeological garden in the centre of the town I wanted to know? He seemed nonplussed and gave us directions to a 14km hike, which can be shortened by parking mid way. Archeology? He had loads, and we came away with a leaflet listing more giants burials grounds, more Nuraghi ruins and a pack of Dolmens. We escaped clutching sheafs of information, and during a brief drive around the centre we eventually glimpsed the windswept rocks. Well one anyway. No wonder he didn’t admit to them/it, even though they/it were/was directly behind the info centre.
I negotiated the self service petrol station flawlessly to my great surprise, even managing to get a receipt to admiring glances from the locals. €1.88 per litre. Daylight robbery. Luckily the Kia is so underpowered it doesn’t use much fuel, and once you get used to the lurch of the gear change and the 10km/hour top speed of anything greater than a 2% incline, it has been fine.
Next stop Calagianus, home of the manufacturing of cork. Lots of manufacturing, mostly outside the town centre. We drove in and out of the centre but weren’t captivated enough to stop. Or take a photo.
Should we do Dolmens or stick to our original plan? Now was the tipping point. We postponed Dolmens and went to Tempio Pausania. On spotting the sign for Lidl, we went there slightly tortuously and bought the essential washing up liquid, some sponges, and some wine. And the ingredients for a few meals as well. And spent less than half we had been spending at the local Spar for the same sort of shopping.
It was bitterly cold in the biting wind when we eventually parked up in the centre and had been advised by the guide book to search out the centre where some tall balconied buildings redeemed the otherwise industrial look of the town. It wasn’t overrun with restaurants however and when we enquired at the closed door of the pizza restaurant, we were informed that we wouldn’t find pizza anywhere in the town for lunch. Shame on you.
We got driven indoors by the cold, taking a small table for two inside the little Vineria L’Amore Perduto. At first we thought the love lost was the proprietors’ for his business but he eventually thawed and his daughter looked after our wine and beer requirements. There was a short choice of lunch items but my Tagliatelle Ragu and Heather’s smoked salmon and cream sauce pasta with grooved tubed pasta closed at one end was acceptable if rich.
A small dog sheltering from the cold got trodden on and yelped but didn’t bite the protagonist. Well not noticeably.
We paid up and legged it back to the car. The proprietor even smiled when I complimented him on his cuisine, but perhaps it was wind.
Onwards. Aggius this time. All I remember is rocks in the background. Granite rocks. And probably highly radioactive if I remember the Koeburg PR campaign André Van Heerden ran in the early days of the Nuclear Power Station. What Eskom and SA would give for another few nuclear power stations now….
Heather understandably resisted the temptation to get out the car, as it was still very cold with the wind chill. We drove around twice. Nice enough but not compelling. And we couldn’t feel the warmth of the radiation.
Next stop Luogosanto. The tourist info man had suggested this would be another good place to visit, omitting to mention any of the other places we had been so far, and so it proved to be. Very charming. We stopped, I walked around. And took the only other photos other than the archeological sites of the day. Too many of course. Apparently this place is on a Camino walk – there seemed to be loads of churches in the area.
We saw cork trees – forests of them, with their long trousers turned into shorts by the whittling away of the lower bark. They take around 35 years to become harvestable and productive, so it’s an investment most would make to benefit their children rather than themselves. I had never seen cork trees in the wild and they are allegedly very difficult to grow, so I came away with a new found respect for the humble cork and understood why we hadn’t seen a single screw top bottle of wine on our trip so far. I’m taking the corks back home – there’s a glass to fill.
We wended our way back, cutting through Arzachena more by accident than design and stopping at the once more closed Spar to get the olive oil I had forgotten to buy at Lidl, which will now have to wait until tomorrow.
A highly satisfactory day with a few average stops studded with several stand out spots. I made the rest of the pasta and mixed it with the left over Arrabiata sauce and some fresh ragu and contemplated how I would soon be looking like the speciality pasta of the region – a large round parcel thinnish at both ends but bursting in the middle.
I tried the local liqueur before bed – Mirto. I think it is made from Myrtle berries which are found in profusion in the Maquis. The local equivalent of fynbos. Not bad – it is sweet with a minerally undertone. It might grow on me.
I set off early at around 7 am to go down to the beach where I turn right instead of left to see if I could get along the coastline to La Conia where Heather and I were going to take the short walk into Cannigione later.
There was a path, but it wasn’t as obvious as the one I had taken the day before in the other direction, and I found myself at times skirting round the rocky shore I’m having to double back to pick up a more obvious trail. Quite soon I arrived in a large camping site.
Many of the pitches on the seafront were empty, partly because people had chosen more sheltered spots from the wind.
It was a really large campsite. It took note of the ribs available to hire should we have an adventurous urge.
Eventually, I got to a point where there was a wetland between me and the destination intended, so I gave up and took the road leading from the campsite back up to our apartment.
After breakfasting on Greek yoghurt, blueberries and grapes, we drive into La Conia and parked the car outside some twitching curtains just up the road from where we were planning to have lunch later.
We walked the half an hour or so along the seaside to Cannigione. There were some lovely houses along this stretch and it was sheltered here from the increasingly blustery westerly wind.
We came across the market and bought two fridge magnets. Well three as the vendor only had change for 7 euro from our 10. He was after one of my pounds but I saw through that ploy.
We walked on through the town, past the marina and the port area and looked briefly at an attractive coffee shop option near the centre before pressing on to the edge of town to the Caffe del Sol which was well worth the extra distance.
It was charming inside, wonderfully decorated with plants trailing up the walls and imaginative decor throughout.
Heather had a Cappuccino Shakerato and I had the standard one. Both excellent. A shakerato is the Italian version of iced coffee and is a cappuccino shaken in a cocktail shaker with ice and some sugar syrup. Deliciosa!
We walked back along the road by the sea and picked up the path to La Conia again, stopping this time for lunch at Baltolu, the second one we saw, this one being recommended by the apartments and the other being a smaller establishment right in the centre of the town.
While we were disappointed that pizzas weren’t available we tucked in to a shared starter of gratinated mussels and then I had fried calamari and chips whilst Heather had pasta and sausage in tomato. The service was excellent and the house wine Vermentino in their logo-ed bottle exceptional and great value at €18.
So we had a happy time and drove the short distance back to the apartment for a rather lazy afternoon and evening.
I walked the short distance down to the beach before breakfast and marvelled at the seeming endless number of small coves which one could occupy as one’s private beach.
I only saw one other person, walking his dog, and when I said that it was beautiful today, he said something like “Yes, before the tourists arrive.” I smiled in agreement, sidestepped the conversation having exhausted my Italian and walked back to the apartment as the heat gradually increased.
There was a distinct smell to the flora, called maquis – a bit like fynbos but different somehow and yet equally memorable. Wild flowers were abundantly blooming everywhere.
I turned a few beetles back on their feet and admired the green flash of the agile lizards already powering themselves up on the rays from the sun. There wasn’t a breath of wind.
Yoghurt and fruit juice later we were ready for the road.
We had decided to go to Porto Rotondo, a 35 minute drive along winding roads through craggy mountain scenery.
There was a boat show on today and so we (I) may have made a mistake as it was getting completely rammed and we (I) couldn’t find anywhere to park. We (I) thought we might just drive around a bit and look at the area before sounding a hasty retreat and got on a road to Punta Volpe where we discovered cul de sacs aplenty with extremely upmarket villas.
On our way back out we stopped in a small carpark with beach on either side of the road. We got out and stretched our legs and on the other side strolled through a lovely looking restaurant with tables in the sand right on the beach, happy to give us a table for two when they started service at 12.30.
That gave us 40 minutes to walk the 15 minutes into the Port area, have a look at the swanky boats being ogled by the swanky dressed visitors and get lost trying to find the way back out again.
Taking in the sight of slick Sunday clothes and glitzier sun-kissed speedboats whilst wandering upstream in the warmth through glamorous crowds alongside a marina. A very Italian thing to do. We went to lunch. On the beach. Another very Italian affair.
The wine we ordered got confused with the next door table – he didn’t notice but I was sure we had the higher grade and he had our vino ordinario. We got lucky and got charged the lower rate for the delicious vermintino our neighbour had chosen.
Heather had grilled tuna (too rare) and I had sea bass nicely cooked. We lingered over our mains, enjoying the scenery and the sunshine, with a bed of south african cape daisy flowers on one side and the azure blue waters on the other.
Quite a few swimmers were in the water surprisingly – I thought it would be wetsuit only at this time of year and having put my fingers in this morning I think it felt like about 14 degrees, but that didn’t deter many scant swimsuited locals.
We were planning to go on to Porto Cervo but lunch had taken its toll and we headed back to the apartment instead, stopping at the Spar to discover it didn’t open again until 4.30 on a Sunday.
We will be back. And indeed rested and ready to shop we returned and spent another €90 on wine and cheese. And dishwasher liquid, which is what we had actually come for.
Dinner was a starter of Highland tomato crisps followed by a main of sausage and artichoke risotto, prepared for us and reheated with a few spoons of water.
We opened a bottle of Fiano. Not a wine type I had tried before, and not one I’ll try again – a very unusual nutty taste which although it grew on me, still left me slightly startled by its boldness.
We had also bought some Cannonau – again not a grape variety I had tried before although some sources say it’s the same as grenache which I have had. It was much more to my taste and I’m also reliably informed that it may well be responsible for the longevity of the Sardinians through its artery declogging properties. I had a second glass. This was more like it. I feel younger already.
They had swopped our heater for one that worked and that had taken the edge off the chill. With that and the red wine, I expect to sleep well…
Steve was with us reliably as ever at 10:20am and he got us to Gatwick by 10 minutes to 11.
We had the most amazing efficient route through security being offered aisle three, which for the first time meant we didn’t have to take our laptops or any other equipment out of our bags and we were waved through in double quick time. So quick, I forgot to take my phone and keys out of my pocket so I had to borrow some space in another man’s tray.
Even after a visit to Boots to buy some toiletries and a wrestle with their scanning machine we were in the Number One lounge by 11:15. That must be a record!
Our flight was running about 20 minutes late, so we could’ve lingered over the chicken and chickpea curry, but I got spooked by the EasyJet messaging saying that we should go to the gate as it will be closing shortly.
We stood and waited for about half an hour for the plane to arrive as we could see its progress on the Flight-tracker.
I had learnt my technique for getting on planes from the speedy boarding maestro Hugh Sear. We were the first on board after a wheelchair passenger.
I swapped my seat with a father so that he could be next to his chuckling baby son, and then enjoyed the views out of the window over the channel, the Alps, Corsica, and finally the surprisingly green island of Sardinia.
Just before we landed at Olbia Santa Smeralda the sun was lighting up stretchmarks on the cellulite sea.
We were held up after landing, not by our baggage, because we had that with us on the plane, but by the over friendly nature of the immigration official who wanted to get to know us all personally. Or maybe he wanted to show us that the queue for the electronic gates was speedier, which if he had processed our line at anything approaching normal speed, it wasn’t.
Perhaps he was wanting redundancy and early retirement. Or maybe he was paid by the hour.
So half an hour later and we were in the car hire office a short walk outside the terminal – Moventur.
When Easyjet changed our flight from the original Sunday to the Saturday that had affected our accommodation and car hire bookings. When I rebooked the car a day earlier and longer, I was expecting a change on the price. So it was with great surprise that I was offered a two hundred pound reduction which I accepted quickly before they changed their minds.
So we were now paying just under £210 for two weeks, or £15 a day.
A fifteen minute paperwork process followed in a hot office with a young lady in a jersey and strong English accent (thankfully- my Italian is almost nonexistent) and we were the proud possessors of a slightly bruised Kia – with just enough luggage space for our two cases.
Heather and Google Maps combined to navigate flawlessly to our accommodation just north of Cannigione and we pulled up outside the reception of our apartments with just 15 minutes to spare before they closed for the night at 7pm.
We drove hastily back into town to catch the Spar before they closed at 7.30pm and fully equipped with wine and the makings of Amatriciana pasta we were safely in our three bedroomed, two bathroomed apartment number 61.
Heather made dinner while I unsuccessfully chased a mosquito the size of a butterfly around the apartment with a rolled up copy of the Spar lifestyle magazine.
It was still nice and warm outside as night fell at around 8.30pm and the views across the bay were enticing.
I caught the mosquito in a tea towel just before bed and after a small struggle involving the best of three falls it succumbed.
We were in bed by 10pm and had a comfortable if slightly chilly sleep as the apartment never gets the sun and the heater isn’t working.
The Lawsons on the Loose 