The long hot hours of work are finally over and I’m looking forward to catching up on lost sleep. Everyday I worked 12pm – 9pm without a day off, as that’s how the cookie crumbles in Sardinia. At times, it was difficult to keep the smile on my face and more often than not I wanted to sucker punch a few guests in the face for stupid remarks. Overall, it was a beautiful whirlwind working at the lovely beach bar Mistral Bar at La Marinedda beach. I met some fantastic people who quickly became friends and I saw 31 stunning sunsets worthy of a painted picture.
Here is a little list of what I endured in the 31 days as a Beach Bar Waitress
- “Do you live here?” Me: No, I fly in from Canada every morning. Ryanair now offers a direct flight from Alghero to Niagara Falls.
- “Where are you from?” Me: You have to guess. Guest: Finland, Denmark, Australia, South Africa, England, Bulgaria, Holland, Ireland, Scotland, America … (they never, ever guess Canada).
- “Why are you here?” Me: I hit the love jackpot.
- “Wow, what sport do you do? You’re very fit.” Me: I serve drinks all day to idiots like you.
- “Where are you from?” Me: I’m from Canada. Guest: Oh, you sound American.
- “Excuse me? But why is the beach half of what it was last year? Did the sea eat the beach?” Me: (mouth hanging open) Uh, yeah, the sea was very hungry this year.
- A woman walks into a beach bar full of guests eating lunch. She stands naked but for the small g-string attached to her curvy hips and she just stands there… her fake mountainous cleavage obscuring the view of the diners.
- Three men from Napoli sit down and ask for three beers. When they have finished the first round I ask if they’d like a second and this is the response “well, we can’t eat the bottles now can we?” I quickly retreated behind the bar and popped open three fresh beers and brought them to the table when I’m greeted with “Ma che cazzo – chi ha ordinato questo? What the fuck – who ordered this?”
- Two couples come in to eat and drink on the busiest day of the month – the Frozen Open Surf contest. They are polite, happy and after three hours one of the men ask for the check. When I deliver the check to the person who asked I am greeted with anger and really, really bad swear words from the other man. He told me that I should have given the check to him, and I’m an idiot for not knowing that. I told him “I’m sorry sir, but I can’t read the minds of raging lunatics.”
- My Mizuno running shoes kept a lot of the customers talking for 31 days.
A four-year old girl said “Your shoes are ugly. They are not beach shoes.” People would obviously stare at my running shoes and make all sorts of comments. I had an argument with a marathoner (N.B. never get into a conversation about running with a multiple time marathoner … it will never end) about me being lazy and not training for a marathon even though I told him I have zero interest in running marathons. - I cleaned up enough pee on the bar floor to last me a lifetime. Parents … I know it’s a beach but please put a diaper on it when entering a bar.
- I learned that if you do your job efficiently that Italians do know how to tip.
- I saw 31 stunning Sardinian sunsets, surfers and a popular Italian minister.
For this year it’s over, and it seems so is summer; I watch a storm roll in over the mountains of the Gallura and rest my weary waitress head to the table and dream of Mom’s chicken noodle soup.
What did you do that’s spectacular this summer?
Once in a blue moon this little blog receives an email about the cost of living in Sardinia, Italy and today I am answering one readers email.
From my safe, comfortable living-room I can hear ambulance sirens ring out, and I hope this time nobody has lost their life but it’s never that easy in Sardinia as every summer hundreds of people die on Sardinia’s deadly streets.
The lecture was a lecture of the best kind; complete with a slide show of the after effects of speeding and alcohol related accidents. I saw photos of cars that were demolished beyond recognition, photos of people with blood running down their face and even of people dead in their car, on the side of the road, in a tree, bush and on the other side of the highway. I was scared. Scared to death to speed again.
My Sardinian Life 