I am writing this in bed in our resort in Sardinia, having just woken up from my afternoon nap. I’m having to write it in “documents” because my website is on the fritz again. It seems to happen from time to time, I haven’t managed to find anyone who can tell me why it happens, let alone how to fix it. C’est la vie.
We eventually got into the British museum yesterday by walking around the block and finding the free, unticketed entry. We then spent the next couple of hours racing around the building on a treasure hunt devised by the museum and presented on its app (not free). It’s a quick romp through history via its thirty most important pieces: the Rosetta Stone, the Elgin marbles, the Sutton Hoo helmet, an Easter island statue, a small jade box, a Japanese warrior’s outfit, etc, etc. It was just a tasting plate really, it would take you a year to see everything thoroughly.
From there we made our way to Heathrow, once again on the magnificent Elizabeth line. The flight to Sardinia only took a couple of hours, but it was almost another hour on windy roads in the dark to our beach resort. We got in at ten pm but the restaurants were still open thanks to the late hours they keep over here. We had delicious pizzas and then went to our rooms, just in time for the most impressive thunderstorm I’ve ever experienced to break. We’d eaten our dinner outside in calm and pleasant conditions but could see some lightning in the distance, so our meal was very well timed. The storm was wild but we were so tired we went to sleep in spite of it. We were told this morning one of the buildings lost its roof in the night.
This is the view from our bedroom:
It’s warm and sunny today but the wind has picked up over the course of the day. We’re hoping our cycling trip may not be in the 35 degree heat we had feared, it seems the temperatures here at the coast may be a little milder.
Breakfast was delicious. When the server asked for our coffee order I panicked when I thought they’d have no idea what a flat white was, and asked for a latte instead. What I knew but had forgotten was than latte just means milk in Italian, and I would have received basically just a large fluffy if the nice lady hadn’t twigged and warned me that what I probably wanted was a latte macchiato. Clearly not her first rodeo when it comes to inexperienced tourists. In fact even that coffee was far too milky for me. I racked my brain trying to think what else I could order and it was only then that David reminded me that they’d likely understand “cappuccino” also. Doh!
We then went for a wander to the nearby township. All we could find was the seaside tourist areas, all seeming a little quiet and sad now the peak of the tourist season is over. A swim in the sea and then the pool on our return to the hotel and then a nap. It’s nice to have a couple of rest days before our cycling trip starts.
There’s not much evidence of my six months of Italian lessons so far, as it’s been supplanted by French in recent weeks. Everyone here is speaking proper Italian, and the staff at the resort all speak English so no translation services have been required so far. My emergency brush up Duolingo sessions will hopefully get me up to speed before any language skills are needed.
I must say, in spite of all my attempts at learning other languages, English remains my firm favourite. I’m glad it’s my mother tongue, and not just because of its global utility. Its marvellous turns of phrase and its enormous vocabulary are unrivalled. Do they even bother to make a thesaurus in any other language? I suppose I could find out with a simple google search but I choose to believe not.
In other news, our companions can’t get enough of the lurid details of the Polkinghorne trial back home, but I’m still heavily invested in Trump v Harris. I’m desperately hoping he loses again, but even then, would that be the end of him? Who knows?