Vendettas, nuraghi and the marches: Under a Spanish Tower

So many people and things have influenced Sardinian culture. We see it everyday. There are no campgrounds up in the high hinterland, so each night we descend to the coast to find a spot near the sea where campgrounds are established. At least for the months of July and August.

Our spot these last nights has been under a Spanish watchtower, Torre Salinas, on one side the Spiaggia, the fine gritty sand beach, on the other another infinity pool, so loved by Sardinian campsites. Just down the road are quiet little villages going about there business, as they ever do.

There are more little old ladies in black wandering the streets, and two large cemeteries where the marble vaults are heavily adorned with photos of those who have passed -- many, too, wearing black. A large number of older 'tradies' go about their business in Apes: tiny little utes not quite as big as Bec.

Our beach camp is along a dusty gravel road almost removed from their world. Planted all around our site are hundreds of Australian eucalyptus trees, used as the boundaries for each distinct campsite, planted in neat straight lines, in ways I have never seen straggly Aussie gums behave.

The trees, somehow, seem taller here: or we have been away too long and forget their height. There is no grass underfoot, and the dirt floor littered with fallen gum leaves is a picture postcard replica of many Aussie outback campgrounds. Including the bird song. There are hundreds of LBBs, little brown birds, making the prettiest songs. And it is just as hot so thank heaven for the sea and the pool.

In another few weeks, there will be more than just this few dozen of us fighting for shade from these gum trees, there will, in this camping section alone, be 1300 campers. That's the current number booked in for August. There may even be more. Mostly Sardinians, but a few German and Netherlander folk, too. Brits are rarely seen here, and Aussies almost never.

As well as that there are massive summer camping apartments, portable units, timeshare tents, a bar, a large restaurant, an entertainment stage for live performances, a market, laundries and many amenities' blocks.

On the beach there are rows of dozens of regimentally arrayed umbrella chairs, and a huge beach refreshment cabana, with rafia-decked umbrellas atop tables and chairs on the sand. This regimentality must be against Pete's religion: I had to urge him to take photos of all of this for posterity. It still astonishes me. All this infrastructure and expense for barely six weeks of full trade a year, and a few stragglers, like us, either side of that. How can it ever pay off?

oooOOOooo