Read this if you have time to kill

It's been a busy past five days. Wednesday night, we went to a local bar called Republik to watch the open mic performances. The musicians played a variety of classic rock songs and blues song, which made it easy for us to sing along. I managed to get myself a free bottle of water due to lack of currency below a five Euro note. Whether is was because of insufficient change, no desire to do basic math, or simple Sardinian generosity I can't say for certain. However, based on the general atmosphere of the pub and my experiences so far on the island, I wouldn't be surprised if it was the latter. Either way, I should probably refocus my narration on the music instead of dwelling on water. The performers played with a lot of energy and were clearly enjoying a release with what seemed to be a lot of regulars and friends. The night rattled on and then a new sound began emanating from the stage. I say new, but what I really mean is different because this noise was actually quite familiar to me. The energy of the room quickly shifted from head nodding and foot tapping to head banging and jumping as a System of A Down cover band began performing. It was a very nice surprise, especially considering how late it was in the night (it must've been at least 2:00 in the morning at that point.) after the SOAD cover behind left the stage, we stayed about an hour longer listening to more music. We left around 3:00 or 3:30 and the music was still going. I have to imagine they played until the sun came up.
That takes care of Wednesday night, which means there are only three more days to cover! We slept in after our long Wednesday night before going to class for the afternoon and early evening. After dinner, four of us decided to walk down to the port and walk along the water. We went along a pedestrian walkway that I had not been to before. The water was incredibly still, save for one exception. Across the surface of the placid water, fish about the length of a middle finger were jumping about an inch out of the water. At the end of their flight, the bodies of the fish collided so softly with the surface the only sound they whispered was a gentle rain tapping the Mediterranean Sea. Occasionally, a larger fish would appear and disrupt the shower with a louder splash and we'd watch the finger fish scatter in all directions. We walked further down the walkway to a set of benches where we sat and reflected on our childhood bedrooms and our family dynamics. The stars were clearer near the water, and it was possible to see the Big Dipper without much effort. Starlight is, of course, an internationally shared wonder. Still, I couldn't help thinking I had a piece of home with me as I viewed the constellations I've carried with me since childhood. After a moment of silence and self-reflection, it was time to head back to our home away from homes.
Friday morning began with a two and a half hour bus ride. At the end of it, we arrived at a museum that contained traditional costumes from the island's rich history. The outfits were displayed on a large collection of mannequins arranged in way to create a crude map  of Sardinia. The attire worn by the mannequin represented the costume corresponding to the region of the island where the mannequin was displayed. Some of the dresses were beautifully ornate, while others were quite simple. The museum continued into another room where hooded and masked mannequins represented a very old festival that is still celebrated today. Looking back, I'm a little foggy on the details. However I do remember that in the old days, this festival would involve some sort of flesh sacrifice. Fortunately that tradition is as much a part of history as Roman gladiators.

We left the costume museum and continued to a small church nearby known as the Church of Solitude. This church was not incredibly ornate, as one might expect with Italian churches. Instead, it was incredibly simple with exception of the detail found on the door picture below. The significance of this church is not found in its beauty, but rather it's influence on a writer who lived nearby at the end of the 1800s and the early 1900s. Her name was Grazia Deledda and she was the first Italian to receive the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1926. In recognition of her great achievement, she was given an eternal resting place in the church that was found in her writings. 

The day continued and we found ourselves on the top of a mountain. It was lunch time and we were given wooden paddles and asked to sit on long benches. Shortly after, shepherds approached us with a variety of food. Please note that we were not being served by men with beards and hooked canes dressed in robes, but rather modern men wearing polo shirts. They came with water, wine, bread, sausage, smoked cheese, pancetta, potatoes, sheep, and some of the most delicious pig I've had in my life. I got up to use the restroom just as one of the shepherds was serving people a mysterious liquor we have since called Firewater. When I returned from addressing nature's call, I found some of the boys being photographed with women of the older variety from a separate tour group. I'm not sure what was in that Firewater, but the two tour groups which were so distinctly separated by nationality and a large quantity of years quickly became one large group with an average age of about 40 without one 40-year-old in site. The meal concluded with a performance by the shepherds. They sang in a traditional throat style exclusive to the area. If you asked me to describe what I heard, I would say that it almost sounded as if they were trying to communicate to the sheep they herd. The voices sounded like bahhhs of varying pitches and rhythms. It was very interesting to witness. As the singing concluded, another shepherd approached with an accordion. While he played, the "40-year-old" mob broke into a circular formation and began dancing a dance with linked hands. This was the finale of the lunch atop the mountain. Below are rooms modeled after traditional shepherd huts. They are available for nightly accommodation and are situated near the edge of the of a drop off, allowing for a stunning view of the surrounding mountains and valleys.   

After lunch, we drove to a nearby town called Orgosolo. We were dropped of at the end of one of the main streets in the town. Along the street, people have painted murals depicting various scenes. Originally, they were done as a method to educate the children of history, both local and global. Over the years, some of the murals became more about political statements than education. It was interesting to walk down the street and view graffiti not as vandalism, but as art and a important part of the local culture and history. I've included a sample of the murals, however it only provides a very general representation. Each mural is different than the one before it, and thus one image can't provide the whole picture. Come to think of it, that statement can be applied to everything I've seen on this trip.

 After wondering down the streets of Orgosolo, we were brought to our hotel Enis Monte Maccione. It is located about halfway up Monte Corrasi and offers amazing views. About half the group decided to hike up the mountain before dinner. The top of our hike was at an outcropping of rocks. The last part of it involved scrambling up these rocks to achieve a view about twenty feet higher. The ascent proved quite treacherous, and it was not made any easier by choice to wear converse sneakers. However, the view was beyond worth the risk. Recognizing we were late for dinner, we descended down the trail quickly. Dinner was again a multi-course dinner, which I fear I might have become too accustomed to. While we were waiting between courses, a few of us elected to go up to the top balcony outside of my room to watch the sunset. Below is a panoramic view of what we saw. Once the light was all but gone, we went back to the dinner table and ate. One of the courses was rabbit, which was another first for me. It was prepared very well, and I did enjoy it. However, I believe if I saw it on a menu I'd probably opt for a steak first. We were given a few options for dessert and I selected Tiramisu. Like everything else before it, it was delicious. After dinner, we sat on the balcony and admired the clarity of the stars. We noted how the lights in the hills below were spaced just so to mimic the scene above. It was hard to leave the stars, but I elected to go to sleep earlier than others.

We had decided Friday night that we would wake up early enough on Saturday to hike back up to the outcropping and witness the sunrise. Therefore, about half the group woke around 5:00 in the morning. We walked silently into the dark woods behind the hotel illuminating the path before us with the light of our phones. The higher we climbed, the lighter it became. Pictures will never do justice to the view we found that morning. I was awestruck and can faithfully say that the view I observed was one of the top five views I've experienced in my life. I've included a picture below in a foolish attempt to demonstrate this spectacle. However, it was more than just the sight that elicited such awe. It was feeling of the air that surrounded me as I sat on the narrow rock. It was knowing that a misguided movement meant, at best, a mountain's worth of pain and, at worst, an abbreviated life. It was knowing that in spite of that danger, everyone of us ascended one at a time to experience what was laid out so beautifully for us. Perhaps what made it so special was that it felt as if the land was formed in such a way for us specifically to enjoy. Though we shared in it, I don't doubt that we all enjoyed it in our own way unique to ourselves.

We weren't the only ones admiring the view that morning. On a distant rock, Maggie spotted a bird. I'm fortunate enough to have a camera with 42x optical zoom, so I decided to zoom in as far as I could to get a closer look. What appeared in my view finder was the strangest bird I've ever seen. It stood on four feet. Where the wings should have been was instead a flat back. The head held two large curled horns, and the face had a beak more similar to that of a sheep than a hawk. As it turns out, what I was looking at was not a bird at all, but rather a ram. Silhouetted against the rising sun, the ram surveyed the landscape before him. Perhaps he was lost and wondered up the rock looking to find his path. I like to think, however, that he set his alarm at 5:00 in the morning, woke up, began his hike in darkness, and eventually arrived at his favorite spot to view the sunrise.

After a quick breakfast, we took the bus to the coast. We descended steadily down the hillside along a grey snake that slithered back and forth. The head was a town with a harbor where we exited the bus and boarded a ferry. A short ride brought us to a limestone cave system that had been carved out by the sea and an ancient underground river. The water was incredibly blue and incredibly clear. It was still inside the cave, and provided pristine reflections of the calcium carbonate chandeliers hanging above. Unfortunately, we were not permitted to take pictures inside the cave, so all I have to show for it the entrance shown below.

We returned to the boat and were brought to a nearby beach. The waves were gentle and the temperature of the water was perfect. I floated in the tranquil water as surrounding rock faces towered above. They were not looming, however. Instead, they stood like sentinels guarding the small beach from the treacherous waves beyond and the wild landscape behind. We spent about an hour there before going to another beach. On this second beach the sand seemed to have been replaced with an infinite amount of white pebbles. They hurt your feet as you walked across them, but the water and the view made it bearable. We climbed up large rocks that stuck out of the water. We approached the edge and allowed ourselves to fall into the color blue below. After about another hour on the pebble beach, we boarded the boat to begin our journey back to the bus. Unfortunately, my camera was out of battery before we got to the beach, so I don't have any pictures to show. However, I managed to squeeze out one more picture on the ride back.

All in all, I think this might have been my favorite weekend so far on this trip. Sorry for the novel, but I'm currently sitting on my balcony and felt like doing nothing else besides writing.