A new British reality program has hit the airwaves where eight people between the ages of fifty-five to ninety-three undergo extreme diet plans and exercise regimens. The program is filmed on an island full of centenarians, an island full of splendour, an island filled with mystery, and a longevity that is deeply planted at its roots. The island is the second largest island in the Mediterranean, the island is Sardinia, Italy. The goal of this television program is to look, a joint, 100 years younger in 21 days. Surely, that is not possible! I’ve lived here for ten years and I can see the age creep in, it’s inevitable. Coming to Sardinia will not make you look younger in twenty-one days, but she will definitely make you feel younger in twenty-one days. Read on and I’ll tell you how to easily live to 100 years of age. Continue reading
It was an overcast day but not chilly when we decided to head up into the mountains for an afternoon walk with friends. We weren’t in search of anything, in particular, just the meeting of new people, dialogues, laughter and panoramic views that stretch as far as southern Corsica to Limbara and to the northwestern tip of Sardinia. Pure Sunday bliss in my books, a perfect Sunday spent between mountain and sea. Continue reading
Sometimes in life the big things take over, they are uncontrollable and we lose focus. I prefer to look at the little things that make this world spin, that make me spin. The little things that get inside my head and complete me. The little things that seem so insignificant to the bigger picture that I’ve forgotten how I got here. It was the little things that built my grand picture, the little things that held me up, the little things that make me believe, make me hold on to the dream that I will see you again.
Have you looked at the little things in your life lately?
I’m proud to have been included in the quarterly on-line magazine known as Insiders Abroad. It’s a magazine from the English-speaking community with inside information and a yellow page directory for Italy, Spain and France.
It was such a pleasure to write a piece for this established on-line magazine that I burst with joy and did the happy dance all over the cobblestone streets of Sardinia.
You can delightfully view the colourful on-line magazine here:
I should be out running or taking a nice September afternoon walk or preparing fresh, local ingredients for a traditional Italian tomato sauce, or even attempting to write my book. Instead, I’m inside being delightfully pulled in by the following four fabulous blogs and I just can’t get enough!
Each blog is jam-packed with hilarious tales of life, cooking, learning languages and eating! So, it’s no wonder I haven’t accomplished much since I finished working at the beginning of the month. I’ve continuously come back to each blog excited to discover something new and I haven’t been disappointed. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
- Lady Of The Cakes – Vignettes from a multi-lingual, multi-cake-eating freelance existence. LOTC and I are similar in many ways: I too am not sure what to say when people ask me “where are you from?” Is where we are from our birth place, the place we spent most our adult life or the place we call home, now? Plus the fact we both seem to fail at doing the required things and all the rest we do in the wrong order. LOTC is beautifully witty, full of sarcasm and worth a read.
- Maple Leaf Mamma – Where feminist motherhood meets expat life in Italy. Firstly, her blog name is HOT and creative, it makes me wish I had been more original naming my blog. Michelle is full-on funny with posts like: Bilingual toddler speak (complete with cute video) and her latest post: On deceptive appearances and silver linings which made me reflect on my own ups and downs living in another country, all the while, others outside the realm of expat-hood seem to think I have it all.
- Bites for Babies – Spicing up baby’s meals one recipe at a time. Written by a Canadian who spends her summers in Sardinia with her family! Instant like! She also whips up amazing dishes for her children that would make any adult jump for delicious joy. Lisa has virtually taught me how to make polenta, after a dreadful attempt to ‘wow’ my husband with my polenta making skills. I am forever grateful.
- BarbedWords in Italy – Living and writing in Italy. And quiet a bit of cooking… How can someone move to Italy and not enjoy the food, or speak the language? Well, this Brit did it and shares all the fabulous exploits in this entertaining blog. I love the post: Top Ten Tips on how not to write a novel, find an agent, get published and become rich and famous because so many of the points I can agree with. In 1997 I moved to Australia with the idea of writing my book and sixteen years later, with countless I’m-moving-to-XYZ-to write-my-book statements, I find myself living in a mountainous town in Sardinia, Italy still trying to write my book.
I hope you can find inspiration from these four fabulous blogs like I have.
Care to share some of your favourite must-read blogs? Leave a link the comment section below.
Happy reading and happy blogging. 🙂
There was a wonderful little reminder from WordPress this morning:
Thank you for reminding me WordPress!
Today, November 22nd, 2012 is the two-year blogiversary for My Sardinian Life! I can’t believe that I’ve written about this lovely island in the Mediterranean for this long. It seems like just yesterday when I took the leap of faith and signed up for a blog on WordPress – now two years have gone by. It’s been a fun and interesting adventure where I’ve learned about Sardinia – her people, cultures and magical traditions.
To my readers, followers and stalkers – thank you. If it weren’t for your words of encouragement in these last two years – in all honestly, I would have given up. I have virtually met so many wonderful, inspirational, courageous and brilliantly fantastic people via My Sardinian Life – I have learned from each of you. You have made dark days seem brighter and even managed to turn already sparkling days into moments of magic. It humbles me to be among your followers. Thank you.
And now I have a little treat for you all, and I do hope you enjoy.
The Best of My Sardinian Life (according to you … and the stats.)
- 1496 followers spread across various social media outlets.
- 394 posts – 395 after this article is posted. Wow, I remember having to write a 500-page essay as a teenager and the thought of getting a tooth pulled was more appealing, how things have changed – for the better.
- Top 5 search terms:
1. medusa – 591
2. my sardinian life – 428
3. living in sardinia – 222
4. gianluigi buffon – 164 (you’re welcome)
5. jennifer avventura – 153 (thanks Mom)
- Top 5 pages & posts:
1. Top 7 Shirtless Italian Soccer Players – 4,897.
2. Aboot me – 2,278
3. A Mediterranean Medusa | Sardinia, Italy – 1,546
4. The naked truth on nude beaches in Sardinia, Italy – 1,518
5. Cost of Living | Sardinia, Italy – 1,336
- Top 5 Views by Country
1. United States of America – 23,027 views.
2. Italy – 13,768 views.
3. United Kingdom – 9,081 views.
4. Spain – 8,329 views.
5. Canada – 6,386 views.
The best of My Sardinian Life’s photography – enjoy the show.
Thank you for sticking with me these last two years. My aim in the coming years is to give you the best Sardinia can offer. Come on over – she’s waiting for you.
Why did you start to blog?
I am starting a new project – it’s called The Write Travel Blog. Why did I decide to start a new blog? The answer is easy – the short stories I have written and published on My Sardinian Life are not getting the traffic nor readership I had hoped for. People come to My Sardinian Life to read about Sardinia – not my adventures in Brazil, Australia or Greece. So, with that in mind I opened a new blog. It will go live later this week.
The Write Travel Blog is a short story blog about global travel. It’s a simple blog without all the flashy lights; a spot, where you the writer, showcase your talent. Are you interested in guest posting for my new adventure?
Want to guest post for The Write Travel Blog?
- 500-1000 words; any style, any format with the exception of posts like “I did this, we went there.“
- Use your imagination. Be unique.
- All editing done by ‘you.’
- Article MUST be about travel.
- If article is about a specific place – you MUST have traveled there.
- 1 photo that you took to support your story.
- Small bio about yourself.
- Provide 3 links to support yourself. Example: Your blog link, Twitter or Facebook.
- No advertising.
- Only guest posts from independent bloggers and writers will be accepted. If you are writing for a corporate company – go suck a lemon, I’m not interested.
- You retain all rights to your work.
- Article must be original and never before published.
- Once article is published on The Write Travel Blog you have the rights to publish your article on your blog
Email me at: firstname.lastname@example.org. Subject: Guest Post TWTB.
Please pass this message along by sharing.
This is a second installment on my series Notes from 1997. To read the first chapter click here. Enjoy.
“Bondi beach stop,” yelled the handsome bus driver in his smooth Australian accent. I didn’t want to get off that bus … because the driver was the spitting image of Tom Cruise from the 1986 film Top Gun. With his silver aviator shades and black tussle hair he gave me a slight wink as I gathered my backpack and headed for the exit. Images of being whisked away in fighter jets to exotic locations around the world while Kenny Loggins’ Danger Zone played in the background; I found my young head disrupted and my motor skills failed.
“Ma’am, you okay?” He grabbed me by the elbow and helped me up. “Uh – thanks. Just got in yesterday, I’m a little jet lagged.”
“Welcome to Australia. Is this your stop – Bondi Beach?” Was it my stop? I couldn’t even remember what day it was; he was nice and über cute in a young Tom Cruise-ish way and a sex-bomb – eat your heart out Kelly Mcgillis.
“Yes, yes, this is my stop. Thank you.” Embarrassed I turned to get one last look at his beautiful Australian perfection. His blue bus driver uniform was perfectly pressed, probably thanks to Momma; his arm muscles bulged under his shirt; his chest muscles, pumped from hours at the gym and his name tag read – Maverick.
My eyes did not deceive me. I read it right and I read it twice – Maverick. I tried to look through his aviator shades at his eyes as the sun reflected the twinkle that was already displayed in his smile. He smiled a beautiful smile as I swung my backpack over my shoulder and asked “You’re name is Maverick? You look like …” He didn’t give me a chance to finish “Maverick is my nickname on the bus my real name is Tom Crusher.” He held out his rugged, tanned hand.
“Well, nice to meet you T-T-Tom.” I held out my hand – goshdarnnit he was beautifully beautiful. “If you’d like to get a drink sometime … here’s my card.” I handed him my business/travel card which was complete with email, Canadian address, Mom’s phone number and a huge Canadian Maple Leaf image.
“I feel the need …” His pause was dramatic and the heavy sighs from the bus patrons grew with each passing moment. I pinched myself, this is not a movie – this is for real; he feels the need to … oh god! I’m never leaving Australia or this bus.
“I feel the need for speed. Do you like Harley Davidson’s – you know the motorcycle? If ya do … I’d like to take you on a tour of Sydney, on the back of my hog. How about tomorrow? It’s my day off; we could pack a light picnic and check out the sights on the other side of the harbour.”
“I do feel the need, the need for speed. Tomorrow sounds great! Where shall we meet?” My heart pulsated and my knees grew weak for tomorrow could not come fast enough.
“I’ll pick you up, right here, at this bus stop. I’ll be here at eleven-thirty. I look forward to seeing you. Oh – and wear those jeans.”
Applause erupted from within the bus, romantic hope applause or hurry up and get off the bus applause, it didn’t matter.
“Eleven-thirty, I’ll be here … in these jeans and don’t forget those specks and you can leave your cowboy boots on.”
I walked off the bus to the rush of fresh salt air; beach-goers busied themselves burying umbrella poles in the sand when I heard the sound of the closing bus doors. I raised my hand to wave goodbye. Maverick beeped the buses’ horn, smiled a Cheshire smile, waved and drove away.
I hope you enjoyed the story. I am open to positive critique, thank you for reading.
It was a summer of firsts for Genoveva: first time she ironed … in fifteen years, first time she spoke her flash Italian skills to the general traveling public in a busy buffet restaurant and it was the first time in over twenty-two years that her natural blonde locks came through. Not sure which was the worst of the lot, Genoveva decided to let the blonde shine on though for the duration of the summer. She was in fact, so busy with her new Italian waitressing job that she didn’t have the time to fuss with her lengthening blonde locks; a ponytail would have to suffice.
In a dusty dresser drawer she found a new-ish pair of dress pants. Black as per restaurant protocol with a super large flare at the bottom. They reminded her of the 60’s; the free love era, where everyone and their dog wore bell bottoms. She whined to her Sardinian husband “Nobody wears bell bottoms … in Italy! Do you think these are okay for work? I’m pretty sure I will be the laughing-stock of Sardinia. Canadian girl in bell bottoms … honey … are you listening?”
He was listening, listening again to his wife’s ramble about clothes. He didn’t care what she wore as long as she went to work. “Sono belle, non si preoccupi. Nessuno sta guardando i pantaloni, più si ha che super-sexy grembiule rosa che copra le gambe.” It was true; Genoveva did have to wear a long apron which fell to her knees. She pranced around their loft in her new waitressing uniform, feelings of elation at a new exciting job – serving the public … in Italian.
“What about the button down shirt? Do you think my boss will notice that I bought it at the Chinese shop in Tempio? I mean the cute Chinese woman DID cut the long sleeves off, and then re-sewed short sleeves! How weird! Look … honey … LOOK! I don’t know if this can pass, heck she cut and sewed all in a matter of minutes. How can someone do that so fast? Honey …?”
She studied the conditional present of volere (to want) for hours before her first night shift and until the back of her tongue stuck to the top of her mouth, trying desperately to get those r’s out. “Che cosa vorreste? Or … honey … should I say che cosa volete?” A loud grumble came from the tool shed, in English this time “Say what you want, don’t worry.”
She worried about her bell bottom pants making the local gossip column; she worried about the iron job on her €10 Chinese cut-job shirt and she worried about speaking Italian to Italian people who pay mega bucks to park their expensive selves in the dining-room. “Honey, I’m ready! Ajo! Let’s go. I need to be there early. It’s not a good sign if I show up perfectly on the hour. Twenty minutes early is good. Ajo! AJO!” He opened the rusty car door for her and she sat down with a heavy sigh. A popular song danced in her head; it’s the same song that appears every time she is slightly stressed “Don’t worry, ‘bout a ting. Cause every little ting, gonna be alright.”
Later that evening …
“Honey, I’m home! And I have to pee really bad!” She ran past her husband who was sound asleep on the sofa and into the en-suite bathroom. She was too happy, too excited; floating even. Everything went oddly perfect on her first Italian dinner shift and it didn’t bother her when she joined English and Italian words. She spoke Italian to English clients and English to Italian clients, the customers got a kick out of her; they asked her where she is from, what brought her to Sardinia, oh … love, they all understood, that was why they were on holiday in the first place – rekindling dead romance. She even managed to snag a €10 tip from one table visiting from Venice. They were very sun-tanned and Genoveva made a mental note to up the sunscreen. At least the €10 Edward Scissor hands button down shirt was paid for.
“Oh, honey I really like it there. I know it was my first night and all, everyone is so nice … OH MIO DIO … WHAT THE WHAT?!? NOOOOOOO!” Her elation quickly disappeared as she looked into the seat of her bell bottom pants while sitting on the throne. A split … a BIG split that ran all the way from the front zip to the back of her bell bottom pants.
“HONEY! MY. PANTS. ARE. SPLIT. RIGHT. DOWN. THE. ENTIRE. CRACK! OH MY G..!” Embarrassment washed over her already hot body and a tear made its way down her sweaty right cheek. Moments of the night flashed though her pulsating veins; she remembered the hostess having a keen eye on her behind; she remembered bending over (from the waist) to pick up a crate of water, she remembered a moment when she was wedged between two tables rambling on in Ital-ish. Genoveva thought that maybe the hostess was a lesbian or that her boss was the pervy kind as he offered a huge smile and a helping hand with the crate of water. She thinks back to the tip that slipped slyly into her long apron, an apron which covered her bell bottom pants, an apron which should have covered everything … well almost everything.
Genoveva’s husband awoke from his slumber, he turned off the TV and walked into the bathroom to greet his hysterical wife “What colour are your underwear?”
“Nudo! OH MIO D … NUDO.” She shrieked in angst, pain and embarrassment. Her husband rolled into bed, in fits of Sardinian laughter.
Without realizing it Genoveva’s bell bottom pants went down in Italian restaurant history.
Stay tuned for more tales from Canadian Waitress in Italy.
How sweet it is to be loved by you … Canadiantravelbugs. Thank you kindly for this sweet award. I must be honest … when I saw the photo I wanted to eat them pretty sweet cupcakes. Then I continued reading and noticed you nominated My Sardinian Life for this sweet award! So, I did a sweet-happy dance.
Rules for accepting the Super Sweet Blogger Award
1. Give credit to the person who chose to nominate you.
2. Answer the “Super Sweet” questions.
3. Nominate a “Baker’s Dozen (13) blogs.