Cala Goloritze

Trip Start Aug 10, 2007
Trip End Aug 29, 2007

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Where I stayed
Il Tipico

Flag of Italy  , Sardinia,
Wednesday, August 15, 2007

After a showering session and breakfast we set off on a trek to the Cala Goloritze beach, easier to get to than to get back from. It was a nice scenic walk, but tough in the heat, with cave houses along the way. We could imagine this place being a hippy paradise, where one could disconnect from civilisation and laws.
A lot of people had made the trek, as we discovered once we got to the picturesque beach with its deep blue and turquoise waters, and pinky white pebbles.
The Italians were so attractive, mixing easily with one another, being playful, being beautiful. It was nice to be amongst them. No doubt we stood out, being fairer haired and pale, but Rosina who was as brown as them fitted in perfectly.
Swimming in the sea was fabulous, and I am glad I swam outwards, because into my view came a big stone arch that had been shaped by water. I swam out to it, past a cave and through the archway. Many boats had come to look at the pretty bay with its arch, and also at a huge natural standing stone by the beach.
Back on the beach I took Eleanor clambering over the rocks so she could enjoy the view of the arch.
When we returned, George and Rosina were being spoiled by the Italian ladies, given a sunshade and snacks and being chatted to. One nice girl gave Ellie and I juicy pears to eat.
Rosina got in her rubber ring and I pulled her out in the waters so that she could swim through the arch. There were young men up on the arch jumping into the sea.
Back in the shallows the men had formed a crowd, and as a fun game they were lifting up women and children and throwing them into the water. I liked the Italian atmosphere so much.

In time we thought we had better set off for the hard trek back, and hard it was indeed, some kilometres uphill, often in hot sun, sometimes in refreshing shade. My energy reserves had already been used up from the trek earlier and the swimming, and now carrying the weight of my sleeping George I only made slow difficult progress. Rosina struggled too, but as for Eleanor she went shooting off ahead.
An Italian family, with a little girl, gave us some sweet orange juice, the sugar energy of which helped us along for a while. Though soon enough we were back to trudging along in slow motion.
When we stopped in the shade of a tree a young man gave us his bottle of water to drink, which again helped for a while.
Then something wonderful happened. First of all an Italian offered to carry Georgie for me, and then even more amazingly a Sardinian lad offered to carry Rosina. For me this was a sign of how wonderful a people Italians and Sardinians were, for their love and kindness towards children, something all too lacking in the French and English. Those noble men carried my little ones for such a long way and how strong they were, what stamina...

Back at the parking area there was a bar and snack place where we refreshed ourselves with drinks and panini's, while observing fellow beach goers returning and stopping by for drinks too. All were in good spirits. It seemed this was a nice place to hang out on late afternoons.

We returned to camp, first stopping to look at the roaming cows, the pigs which were eating the cow pooh, and a lone donkey.
A couple from Rome had set their tent up close to ours. The campsite filled up, and lots of people came to eat at the restaurant.
I opened up a bottle of the local Campanau wine,which it had intrigued me to taste, its grape type being the most ancient one known of. We sat in the grove eating and drinking as the darkness of evening set in.

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