I recently read a hilarious meme on Eupedia titled: you know you’ve lived in Italy too long when... It was an awesome read and made me think about the past five years of my life; holed up in small-town Sardinia. So, I decided to write a list about living in Sardinia, Italy.
40 ways you know you’ve lived in Sardinia too long
Time ceases to exist in all matters of urgency and you learn patience really is a virtue.
You talk with your hands and a few facial expressions to get your daily bread.
The deli clerk, butcher, bartender and painter know what colour your underwear is.
You don’t care when people push in front of you while waiting in line as you now have this iron clad patience.
You hear multiple gunshots go off in the near distance signalling that it’s October & hunting season has begun.
Casu Marzu intrigues you and you are tempted to ask the local shepherd about it but can’t stomach the thought.
You notice a community poster stating that construction will begin on your street in a months time. The following morning construction begins.
You find a job and work like a horse only to be paid months down the road.
You go for a 6k run and finally have the courage to flip the finger and shout asshole to anyone that drives past you faster than 30mph.
You get irritable if you miss your 3 hour siesta.
You stop comparing prices against the Canadian dollar because fuck, everything is expensive on an island, in Italy.
You foolishly believe that Sardinia is a country on to her own and are shocked by the shenanigans of the ‘mainlanders.’
You drink only purified spring water from the mountains high up because plastic bottled water freaks you out.
You walk 3km up-hill to collect this precious spring water; carrying 10 litres on your back on the way back down-hill.
You say ‘only if He permits’ as you gaze sky-wards when old ladies ask you why you’ve not created life.
You carry little old ladies groceries home from the supermarket, cause well, they remind you of your Nana.
You speak more of the local dialect than you do in the national language.
You hitchhike and people pick you up because you’re that crazy Australian, American, Canadian girl and they want to know more about you.
You are a converted espresso drinker; you drink three cups of espresso before 11am.
You realize that one mirto is okay but two mirto will knock you out for days.
You go mushroom hunting in the mountains and step in cow dung; you don’t squeal like a girl because tonight you are cooking a mushroom risotto for 8 people.
You go wild asparagus hunting and fend off wild dogs with a stare down.
You eat pecorino cheese for breakfast, lunch and dinner because it’s just that good.
You don’t own a cell phone because all your friends & family are on Skype.
You have no real girlfriends here because they are all jealous of your Australian, American, Canadian heritage.
You show up an hour late to every appointment because that’s just the way the cookie crumbles in Italy.
You are scheduled for a pap smear while menstruating and when you try to protest the doctor asks you – what’s your problem?
You pay €100 for every gynaecologist visit which lasts seven minutes and involves two doctors a nurse and your husband.
You befriend every local cat, kitten and dog even when the locals tell you not to.
Other expats reach out to you who are living/lived in Sardinia and they confirm that it’s not easy to live & work in Sardinia.
You have a few haters because of your blog; they want you to shut the hell up and stop talking smack about the reality of living on a small island in the Med.
After 5 years you realize the grass is the same colour all over the world.
You receive baked goods, canned goods, fresh fruit & vegetables instead of iStuff for Christmas, Thanksgiving and your birthday.
You stop a friendship with an elderly man because he asks you how many times you “lay under your husband.”
You hear and see jet fighter planes that soar too low and think the world is coming to an end and hide under the bed for the rest of the afternoon.
You wear the same clothes for five days in a row and sometimes sleep in them.
You refuse to work for € 3.90 an hour because it’s unethical and against your Australian, American, Canadian rights.
You are chastised for refusing the above payment – you should be grateful to even have a job at all – but you aren’t.
You pee in the bushes, even on the side of the road and you don’t care who see’s you.
You respond to yes questions with Eja and say Ajo all the time.
Did you laugh out loud at any of these points? Which ones? Tell me below.
Hyknusa is the Latinized name given to Sardinia billions of light years ago. Now fast forward a few centuries and allow me to introduce you to Ichnusa.
Brewed in Assemini, Italy, located 12 km northwest of Cagliari, in southern Sardinia. Birra Ichnusa was founded in 1912 and their brewing standards remain true to tradition, even after beer giant Heineken bought-out Sardinia’s little brewery.
Ichnusa is a delightful, light golden lager, with soft aromas and a persistent froth. Alcohol level is 4.7%. It’s a perfect beer to enjoy while catching some shade in a local Sardinian bar, or sipping while sitting on your balcony overlooking the Med, and it goes great with everything. Pasta, pizza, fish, you name it. Ichnusa has remained a favorite for decades on the island of Sardinia as well as abroad. Put Ichnusa on your list while you visit the wonderful island of Hyknusa – Sardinia. Ajo!
(This was not a paid commercial, article, post or ad. Are you interested in paying me to write a witty-little piece for your product, company or business? If so click here, it’s my Contact page. Like a virgin, I’m pretty new to this but open for business.)