Welcome to Alghero, Sardinia! When my friends and I were deciding what we should do for our spring break vacation, we had one unanimous requirement: must have beach. It was our luck that we were looking at flights with only one week before we intended to leave. All of the other locations we were interested in were too expensive. All but one! We were about to give up on the ryanair website when we decided to just look at all of the options out of Paris. We saw Alghero as the first choice which had a flight for about 30 euros. We were all pleased, but none of us knew where it was. We looked it up, found that it was on the Northwest coast of Sardinia and had great beaches, then booked it! 

Et voila! None of us speak italian so needless to say the three of us were equally curious to see what the sardinian culture had in store for three americans. First off, in France, everyone knows some english so getting around is usually not an issue. This is NOT the case in italy I have found. Most people do not speak english even if they listen to anglophone music. Communication was an issue since we were attempting to order food, determine restaurant etiquette, and traffic laws in our best knock-off italian/french mixture. We stayed in an apartment on the edge of town and immediately discovered that it is in fact true that italian men do not leave home until they are married. It was nice to be able to cook for ourselves as well as discover all of the wonders of the local grocery store as well as it’s house brand version of boxed wine. 

The town was adorable. Cobblestone streets, houses shoved into an awkward yet effective formation, dogs and cats literally everywhere, public milk dispensers, impressive condom vending machines, fairly stealthy internet shops, and all the gelato and pizza you could possibly want. Coolness may or may not be measured by the size of your sunglasses (the bigger the better obviously). Americans are apparently allowed to rent cars (I didn’t think I would be able to since I’m neither an EU citizen nor am I over the age of 25). Speaking of driving, as I mentioned after my trip to Rome, Italians are god damn crazy behind the wheel. Take any speed limit you see and pretty much double it. Ignore any and all lines on the road for they are purely decorative. Pass other cars during long bends in the road when it is most beneficial to floor the accelerator and cause the most honking. God forbid you should take more than .25 second after a light turns green to react. Highway police serve no purpose so fret not you can still book it 65 km/h over the speed limit…maybe even wave hello to them as you pass by. Traffic laws in general don’t really exist. It was scary at times yes, but actually quite liberating! Many stereotypes are true. Italians are very loud, vigorously orchestrate conversations using their entire upper bodies, hit on all women as if it is something wired into their very core, and are momma’s boys. It also seems to be socially acceptable to eat one or more full pizzas every day, something which we shamelessly took advantage of in Alghero.

Voila our WEEK long vacation courtesy of the erupting Icelandic volcano which, in all seriousness, stranded us on this beautiful, serene, and delicious little slice of pizza called Sardinia.