A Postcard From: Sardinia

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Our trip to Sardinia was a kind of ‘Babymoon’, if you like. I was 6 month’s pregnant with our second son, and we decided to take a 3-year old Asher for a week away over Easter.

As a family, we’ve loved Italy for as long as we’ve been together, which isn’t actually that long  – 5 years at the time of this trip – to be exact. But in that space, we’ve seen Venice, Verona and Lake Garda as a carefree couple, Tuscany with a toddler and so a trip to Italy’s largest island seemed like a natural progression. Plus, every Italian we know has had good things to say about Sardinian beaches.

Our hotel was located in La Caletta, a small town on the east coast of Sardinia, about 40 minutes’ drive from Olbia airport. An Italian all-inclusive (yay – Italian red and Peroni on tap… oh, I can’t drink) kept Andrew occupied and kept Asher well fed, for the 6,324 meals that he requires a day.

The local area doesn’t sport the prettiest of beaches – you should hire a car and descend the perilous trip to Golfo Di Orosei for that – but it’s a handy and very user-friendly base, especially for those with young children. I should also say that Asher took a shine to La Caletta’s Salvataggio and called him ‘Jingles’ (??) for the duration of our stay. He had a box of sandcastle making stuff next to his lookout, so you can imagine that he made a friend for life out of our curious little tourist.

Even though Sardinia is Italian, it’s very different in terms of food preferences and temperament of the general public. It’s sleepy, full of cured meats, sheep cheeses and gentle language. Forget the mainland’s hand flinging, exuberant dialogues. It’s a beautiful, special place that I’d love to visit again, when I’m not sporting a large bump and a young boy who thinks he’s a cliff-diving daredevil.



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