Europe's hidden treasure

Alghero, Sardinia

Alghero Bay

one of the views from our balcony

By starting off my blog with pictures I assume you all are crawling in envy. That is right, I spent my weekend (november 7-10) on the white sand beaches of a Mediterranean island off the coast of Italy called Sardinia. We stayed in a city called Alghero and it was an amazing escape from the cold and damp of Ireland!

My friend Natasha and I headed for the airport on Friday and as we sat there waiting for our flight to board we started talking about how much of an adventure this would be. The only words either of us knew in Italian were Buongiorno and ciao. Which both mean about the same thing. The woman at the front desk announced our flight and we realized we didn't even know the name of the place we were going. (we had been pronouncing it al-jero when it is actually al-g-air-o) This was a good sign to say the least considering Alghero just recently started getting tourists (after becoming one of the cheap flights through ryan air) and therefore we read that most people don't speak English there.

We got to Alghero around 8:30 pm and got a cab to our hotel. Right when we got in to the cab he took off at a crazy speed. I think he passed just about everyone on the road and Natasha leaned over and commented about the fact that Italians are known for being crazy drivers. About 5-10 minutes into our ride, about the time we got in to the city center, a bike pulled out in our lane. Luckily, the driver was able to slam on our breaks and the biker was spared (this time). About 2 seconds later a car slammed in to the back of our cab. Natasha and I looked at each other with disbelief (or maybe belief considering how everyone had been driving) and the cab pulled over to the side of the road. Pausing the meter and stepping out with, "one moment" we couldn't help but laugh and ask if this was really happening. The cab driver looked at the back of the car and I guess asked the guy who hit us to follow him and we were off again in a matter of probably 30 seconds. Don't worry though because as soon as he sat back down he started the meter again and 26 euro later we were at our bed and breakfast. I know right...The guy couldn't even give us a discount? Maybe for potential neck pains or something?

We were dropped off at this unlit apartment building and I looked over at Natasha like "what? are we sure this is it?" She is the one who did the booking and she was confident we were there and had directions on how to get in and get up to the B&B. After paging up, a short Italian man named Antonio came down to greet us. The B&B was absolutely adorable. It was in his family's apartment on the 6th floor, he lived there with his wife and young daughter and then there were three rooms that he rented out. For around 20 euros a night Natasha and I got the penthouse suite! We were led through French doors into a foyer with a small table and chairs that led out to our personal balcony looking over the city and the Mediterranean (also with a table and chairs). Inside to the right was an adorable bathroom with beautiful blue printed tiles covering the walls and even included our very own bidet. Our room was decorated Ikea style and we had our own little fridge with yogurt, milk, orange juice, cookies, break and jelly and pastries for our breakfast for the next few days. It was truly amazing and Antonio was very helpful throughout the week!

We decided to go for a walk around the city and on our way we stopped by a take-out pizza place. We got a good size (we were able to share) pizza with spinach and asparagus on it and two beers for 8 euro! We couldn't even believe how cheap it all was compared to Ireland. The pizza was incredible and maybe the best part were the delivery boys. irishmen shirishmen. By the end of the weekend we were nearly convinced that either good looks were required to live on the island or all ugly people were 'done away with.' If the people are anything like the mob Italians I would say the 'uglies' are done away with. Another requirement for life in Alghero was a black leather jacket and a cigarette in your hand 80% of the time. Wearing colors was a dead give away you weren't a local.

The next day (after breakfast on our balcony, as became routine) we spent all day wondering around the city. It is not very big but we were so enamored with the 'italianess' of the city and the amazing views we couldn't get enough.

Sunday we wanted to go to Neptune's Grotto, which are caves near the city but we misread the pamphlet given to us at the tourist information center and missed the only bus that went out there at 9:15 am. Luckily it was another beautiful day and we spent the whole day on the beach instead. We went to buy our tickets for the bus to go to the caves on monday (our last day) and the lady at the desk seemed unimpressed and just shook her head and said "strike." We kind of looked at each other like what? does that mean the same thing in english? what do you mean a strike? We found out the buses were going on strike on monday so there would be no way for us to get to the caves without renting a car. awesome. After a lot of contemplation (and calling around for prices and stuff) we decided against renting a car. It seriously took us about a day to come to this decision though. I would normally be all up for the guaranteed adventure however, our almost humiliating lack of direction, inability to speak the same language as just about everyone on the island and the fact that we had already been involved in a car accident was enough to convince my love of adventure to chill out.


Our flight didn't leave until 8:15 monday night so we had all day to play around which was nice. It was probably 75 degrees that day and absolutely beautiful! We rented bikes and decided to ride up the coast. Along the way we came to the pine tree forest and I saw that there was sand up through the trees so we got off our bikes to walk up to see what was through the other side. The view was incredible. We walked up a dune and there on the other side was a white sand beach of the Mediterranean. We stayed there for a while and then headed back up the coast. The other side from the city center was a little town called Fertillia. It was really cute but almost eerily quite. It felt like it was almost abandoned. The only thing that told us otherwise was a small cafe/bar that was open where we stopped for lunch. After biking back to the city center we stopped by a cafe overlooking the bay, ordered a bottle of wine and some chocolate cake and sat around for about two hours listening to Michael Jackson, disco and other great gems of American music. It was an amazing way to end our trip as you can imagine!


The cultural differences between Italy and Ireland are immense. During the middle of the day (maybe around 1) most/all of the businesses take a break until around 4. Restaurants break from around 3 or 4 until about 7:30 pm. If you wanted to eat dinner before 7:30 too bad (unless you wanted to settle for mcdonalds). If you weren't going to settle for Micky-Ds you had to find another way to waste time--the best way we found was to go for a coffee/drink and dessert. It was so strange to be thrown in to this late culture when we were used to American and Irish culture (which run on just about the same time schedule).

I don't think I can say enough how much I encourage you all to go to Alghero if you are ever in Europe. It was so nice to feel like we were two of the only tourists there and be completely surrounded by locals and Sardinian culture. I really hope that someday I will be able to go back and maybe there wont be a bus strike and I can visit the caves...or maybe my sense of adventure will be able to overrule my buzz kill cautiousness and I will be brave enough to rent a car. Either way, there is more I want to see and so I gotta go back.


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Sláinte!

Northern Ireland

Sinn Fein building and mural of Bobby Sands

Peace line in Belfast separating catholics and protestants

Derry (looking up from the bogside)

View of Derry from medieval city wall

me and Osama on Halloween

Giant's Causeway (there's better pictures but it takes to much time to rotate them)

Area around Carrick-a-rede

Carrick-a-rede rope bridge

Considering all of the history and intensity of my trip to northern Ireland...this post has taken me over a week to finally get the motivation to sit down and write.

This was the second and final trip that we went on as a group (our CIEE group). We left Thursday morning and headed up to Belfast. We only spent the afternoon there but honestly I am not sure that I could have lasted any longer. The city has a very violent history (actually very recent--violence still occurs today but the most recent major events took place in 2001) and this caused the whole city to feel dark and depressing. There are political murals all over the city which are absolutely incredible--probably one of the only positive feelings I experienced. I came to Ireland not knowing a lot about the troubles (English-Irish, protestant-catholic) but have spent the last 2 months learning so much about it. I have learned all about important people and struggles and movements that took place. I have learned the words republican and nationalists and loyalists and unionists. I have learned about the hunger strikers and the brutality against the nationalists. All of this hit when I got off the bus and walked around Belfast. It was really a good experience to get to walk around the town where so much has taken place but because it all is so recent, everyone around was almost transparent with exhaustion and pain. There were memorials all over the place for people from various neighborhoods who had been killed. I think what was most striking was that the ages listed on these memorials were much younger than I had expected. Many were around 17 years old and then there were the outliers of children around 4 and elderly people around 60 years old...all murdered.

The peace line that was created is also one that screams pain and is not one that you might imagine a structure containing the word "peace" to look like. The wall separates catholic and protestant areas of Belfast and is a very tall green wall that has a wire fence on top. It is supposed to be tall enough to prevent things from being thrown over top, but houses along the peace wall often had caged off back yards to make sure that this was the case.

We spent the first part of our time in the nationalist/catholic part of Belfast--along Falls road. The murals painted by nationalists are very prideful of Ireland and show things like Irish sports and are written in Irish and things like that. We saw the Sinn Fein office and the mural of Bobby Sands (the first hunger striker to die)--I believe it is the most photographed mural in the world actually. When we crossed over to the loyalist/protestant side--Shankhill road--there was a much different feel. The murals are more typically brutal and have a message of anger and dominance and for that reason many of them were taken down (because they offended tourists). Probably (actually I'm sure of it) because Don (our director) is a catholic from Dublin we felt much more uneasy along shankhill road than in the nationalist part of town.

While the peace agreement was signed quite a few years ago the troubles are still very much part of everyday life and violence still occurs due to the separation. >>side note: Bill Clinton was a key figure in getting a peace agreement signed and so if you want to make friends with an Irishmen strike up conversation about the man and most likely they will go nuts (the guy is like a saint over here).>> In 2001 primary school aged catholic kids had to walk through a protestant area on their way to and from school and because their parents were associated with being former members of the IRA or other catholic movements, rocks and other things were thrown at them. The guards were forced to come in and barricade the road so the children and their parents could walk safely to and from school for something like 4 months. It was actually very much like the events that happened during the civil rights down in Arkansas...only this was in 2001. It was just a really weird experience and feeling in general and while I was glad that I got to see it all, I was happy I didn't have to stay.

Derry is where we went next and spent all three nights. The city was absolutely adorable and had a very homey feeling to it. While there was great violence that took place there as well (Bloody Sunday for instance) we felt much more comfortable there than in Belfast! On Friday was Halloween and we went to the Ulster American Folk Park which was like a little recreated village of 'olden day' Ireland. A lot of it was closed off though to prepare for Halloween festivities that would go on in the evening. Almost every house in Derry was decorated for Halloween and we were told that it was necessary for us to dress up because the streets would be closed off and around 30 thousand people were expected to be out and if you weren't in costume you would not only stand out but could even be harassed. Of course I already had my mask and decided I would be one of those harassing the people who didn't dress up.

After dinner there was a huge firework show and then we went out to the streets of Derry to see if it all was as big as everyone had been preparing us for. Let me tell you...the Irish know how to do Halloween. Every single person was in full costume attire. I don't mean everyone had on a pair of animal ears of devil horns, I mean dressed to the nine! Walking around one could be fooled quite easily into believing the town had actually morphed into 100 jokers (probably the most popular outfit of the night), scooby do, cowboys, soldiers etc. Shoot at one point I thought I had found Osama Bin Ladin and that Saddam Husein had come back to life. Who would have thought they would both be hanging out in northern Ireland right? By the end of the night you can only imagine what the streets looked like. There was more broken glass than I had ever seen and trash was spilled everywhere. People stumbled around with smeared make-up and costumes barely intact...it is true, the Irish really know how to do Halloween.

The next day was spent on a much more somber note as we did a walking tour of Derry and saw more murals from the troubles. As I mentioned earlier, Derry is the site of Bloody Sunday. <i'll give you a couple seconds here to sing the U2 song.> Many of the murals were dedicated to people who were killed in that event. For those of you who don't know more about the event than the fact that U2 sang a song about it (as I was this person up until going to Derry) I'll give you a brief overview:

So on January 30, 1972 there was a peaceful civil rights march (greatly influenced by the civil rights movement in the states) that took place in the streets of Derry through the bogside (a catholic area--that our hotel actually looked down on). During this march there were some small riots that started (keep in mind--unarmed) and the British Parachute Regiment took it upon themselves (under whose order is still to be determined) to take fire on the marchers. This regiment was known for being basically psychopathic and was to be used only in emergencies but somehow they ended up 'patrolling' a peace march. 13 protesters were shot and killed. After the event the British let out a statement claiming all who were killed were bombers and snipers and members of the IRA (although in reality the IRA had been told not to attend the march in order to keep it peaceful). Not long after, it was discovered that all 13 had been unarmed and most had been shot while crawling to safety. Seven of the 13 were still teenagers. There has been an investigation in progress for the past 30 years now and the release of this investigation is supposed to be out sometime next year (although it was to have been already released).

We visited a museum called "The Museum of Free Derry." The museum was started by the brother of one of the 17 year old boys shot and killed that day. He too (the man who created the museum) was there on the day in 1972. The place was incredible and throughout you could hear a video recording of the events that took place. We read all about the history and there were clothes worn by people shot that day displayed and newspapers articles etc. Near the end of the museum there was a letter written by a member of the Ulster Volunteer Force (the protestant loyalist paramilitary) to the parents of one of the men killed in Bloody Sunday. The letter was the worst thing I have ever read and included the most horrific name calling and damning of ones life than I could ever imagine. It left me physically ill and near to tears. The entire museum was extremely moving. After, we were able to speak to a woman who's brother (who was also 17 at the time) was killed in bloody Sunday and it was really great to get her perspective.

All the time I have been here I have felt the sense of disconnect (to put it lightly) between the British and Irish and this museum left me with an understanding as to why those feelings still exist. There is no question that what happened that day was wrongfully done and I will be looking forward to seeing the results of the investigation if they are ever finally released.

So while the museum was truly depressing I fell in love with Derry and would most definitely go back. Maybe because it really felt like fall (which leaves me with a romantic idealism about everything) or maybe because it was actually there, but the town left me feeling like even in a place where such brutality can take place there is hope for a better future. Maybe even for a place like Belfast.

((...then again maybe all this 'hope' and idealism is just coming from me since I'm writing this after seeing a miracle take place on election day.))

all of this 'troubles' talk almost made me post this blog forgetting the beauty we saw! So Saturday we took a drive out to see Giant's Causeway (one of the geological wonders of the world). On our way we stopped by Carrick-a-rede rope bridge which is (surprise surprise) a rope bridge that is really high above the water and is absolutely gorgeous! After doing the walk accross we headed to Giant's Causeway. Here the rocks are formed in pillars and different shapes. It is really really cool and now that i think about it, I don't think I was listening very well cos I can't tell you how they were formed. My guess is lava. Yes, lava sounds good. Anyways, there's an Irish folk story about some giant who lived there or something so maybe instead of lava I will say that a giant formed them. Yep, that's my final answer. Saw cool rock formations that were formed by an Irish giant. Who cares really though, it was beautiful and it was in Ireland.

Sláinte!