A Lazy Day at the Beach

Gauss was feeling under the weather—we needed a lazy day. Right after breakfast we ran a load of laundry and hung it in the sun to dry. Then we puttered around until lunchtime. Leo made a simple pasta topped with bottarga, a kind of paste made of tuna eggs. Gauss eyed it with suspicion so we proceeded with caution—but we liked it. Like anchovies, bottarga is better as a supporting member of the cast than as the star of the show.

Leo's well-worn roadmap. Many of the roads we took were too small to show up on it. Stazzo Chivoni is a little gray dot a bit north of Luogosanto. 

 Then Gauss and I set off on back roads with a map and Leo’s directions for a beach on the northwest coast of the island. Most of the roads are wide enough for only one car. When you meet another vehicle, you pass slowly by driving with one set of tires on the grass or, if there is a sharp dropoff—often the case in Sardinia’s rocky, hilly terrain—someone must back up until you find a spot with a bit of extra room.

Just as we approached a sharp curve in a remote area, the nose of truck appeared around the corner. I braked immediately, but the truck began backing up. When we drew abreast of him, the driver rolled down his window and asked for directions to Bassacutena, a little town to the east. I was able to pull out the map and give him the information he needed. I will add this little feather to my cap along with the ones I got helping other tourists in New York find the right subway line.

 

We had this little beach all to ourselves

The trip to the beach took less than half an hour, and there were only four or five other cars in the parking lot. We followed a sandy path down the hill and were able to stake out for ourselves a whole little beach, set off from the main beach by a rock outcrop. The water was as clear as a swimming pool. Being a hardy Minnesotan fresh off a brutal winter, I went in up to my neck and paddled a little, but the water temperature was really more appropriate for wading.

I couldn't believe how clear the water of the Mediterranean was. 

The air was warm and the sun was out so we set up an umbrella, lay towels on the sand, and spent the afternoon reading and snoozing, with an occasional dip in the water or stroll down the beach to pick up tiny, perfect shells. It was the ultimate vacation day in never-never land…no traffic, no noise, no news, no Internet.  When boredom set in, we dusted ourselves off and headed back to the car, changing discreetly into clothes for town.

Dinner was at Pizzeria Il Porticciolo, a simple restaurant a bit away from Palau's touristy harbor. This was the perfect restaurant for us—amazing food, simple décor, and reasonably priced. We started with a plate of assorted salumi and pecorino Sardi—local sheep cheese that we had been craving since Luciana introduced us to it in Rome. The real surprise was the prosciutto crudo, which melted in the mouth despite being very lean. Gauss ordered spaghetti with mussels in tomato sauce, bursting with flavor and freshness. My spaghetti alla carbonara (dressed with garlic, olive oil, and egg yolk with bits of pancetta) was the perfect light consistency, just enough for the taste to cling to the noodles but not drowning in goopy sauce. The portions were too large to finish.

Salame, prosciutto, and pecorino sardo—Sardinian sheep cheese

I can't imagine getting a second course after our huge servings of pasta

After a very dense espresso, we walked back across the little town to the car. We were just too full for the gelato we had planned to try. I drove home carefully—night had fallen—and after rinsing the salt water off our skin, we fell deeply asleep.