[YEAR 7!] Quit our jobs, sold our home, gone riding...

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Limestone cliffs are a famous feature of Corsica. At the bottom of the cliffs are caves that can only be explored by boat

We walk down into the old city of Bonifacio. The narrow cobblestone streets that see so many tourists during the summer, now mutely echo our lone footsteps as we wander around the deserted town. Some of the shops display the Corsican flag, the profile of a black head with a white bandana over the forehead. This symbol is called "La Testa di Moru" (The Moor's Head) and is the symbol for freedom, because originally the bandana was covering the eyes, like a blindfold.

"Treat yo'self!" A rare occasion where we splurge for a nice seafood meal!

I've been doing quite well, surviving on a diet of sandwiches and camp-cooked meals for the last few days. There's still some post-UK weight I'm holding onto around the waist, but that doesn't stop us from treating ourselves once in a while!

After lunch, riding past the walls of the city

 

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We are on our way out of Corsica, heading to the ferry docks in Bonifacio

In line, waiting for the ferry

Our journey south continues!

 

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Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/373.html

Corsica and Sardinia, two islands separated by the narrowest of gaps: just the 11 km wide Strait of Bonifacio.

So strange that Corsica is part of France and Sardinia is in Italy. Corsica was originally Italian as well, but was signed over to the French as part of a debt repayment agreement between the two governments.

This little piece of historical trivia would take on more significance as we traveled further south through Corsica's twin sister.

It takes us no time to hop from Corsica to Sardinia. And we don't get very far on this new island. Santa Teresa Gallura is the town right at the ferry dock

Since it's getting late in the day, we're going to stay here for the evening and then venture further south first thing in the morning.

We haven't been here very long, but we're noticing a lot of differences between Corisca and Sardinia. The buildings in this port town seem a little run-down, and the roads and pavements don't seem as well maintained as the French island that we just left. It may just be because it's a port town... don't know yet.

Another big change is Neda's mood. For the last three weeks, we've been slowly making our way through France and she doesn't speak the language at all. Being so multi-lingual, Neda is used to understanding and communicating effortlessly with everyone around her. But not in French. For the past few weeks, she's had to rely on my Grade-9-Quebecois-tinged Franglais to get the both of us by. Quite the role reversal. Because normally I'm the one standing around not able to understand or talk to anybody - which I'm totally used to, since that's how I've spent pretty much the last half decade of my life...

But she hates it.

Now that we're in Italy, she takes over the reins con gusto (ugh, mixing up my languages here)... con piacere? *shrug* Back to being deaf and dumb for me...

 

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We check into our AirBnB room near the beaches, it's in a very quaint and homey guest house. The lady who runs it is an old Italian nonna and she's delighted that Neda speaks Italian! She must get a lot of English and French tourists coming through. She natters away merrily to Neda, treating her like a long-lost grand-daughter, explaining where all amenities are, things to see and do around Santa Teresa.

The only thing we have time for before sunset is a quick stroll along the nearby beach

Just like Corsica, the sands here are devoid of sun-seeking tourists. A few die-hard souls brave the waters - I suspect they are locals - as a cold breeze whips off the coast. It's definitely sweater - not swimsuit - weather.

Watching the waves smash against the rocks just off the coast

Despite it not being beach weather, it's still quite pretty and we're very much enjoying having the place to ourselves

 

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The sun sets behind the hills overlooking our neighbourhood in Santa Teresa

Longosardo Tower overlooking the beaches of Santa Teresa

These islands have changed hands many times. Before the Italians ruled Sardinia, the Spanish were here and built fortifications and towers along the coast to defend against pirates and other sea attacks.

Avant-garde sculpture of the Virgin Mary at sunset

 

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We walk to the old town square to score us some fall weather snacks - ice cream!

Wile we were walking past the ice cream store, Neda spotted a pale blue-coloured flavour. When she inquired about what that was, the server replied, "Mirto". "Oh, Mirto! We have those plants in Croatia, it's Mirta! I never knew you could eat the berries that grew on those bushes. I'll have to try it!"

Being uni-lingual, I had to Google what Mirto/Mirta is. It's Myrtle. The berries are blue and are used to make liqueur on both of the islands. And apparently they use it to make ice cream here, which seems to be a uniquely Sardinian thing. Neda says Mirto/Mirta/Myrtle berries are very Mediterranean and remind her of home.

What with all the familiar language and foods, she is loving being back in the Nedaterranean.

The next morning, we're all packed up and ready to explore the rest of Sardinia. But first, we feed the local dogs!

This guy was so shy. He wouldn't take the snack from my hand, and I had to leave it on the road and back away for him to pick it up. I think he's been bullied a lot by the local kids and is now wary of all people. Sad.

Off we go!

 

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The road south-west from Santa Teresa shoots inland and we're treated to the typical curvy mountain roads in the northern region of Gallura, just like the ones in Corsica.

The windy road takes us through some small Italian towns. This is the Commune di Nulvi, just outside of Sassari

Sa Essida de sos candhaleris ("The exit of the candlesticks") is an annual Catholic ceremony where three huge candlestick holders are walked through the streets of Nulvi to the parish church. It seems to be quite a huge celebration that draws a lot of people from all over to this tiny village.

It's held every August 14th, so we've missed it. That's a shame, it looks quite interesting to see in person.

All the buildings we've seen in Sardinia have been given fresh coats of pastel colours, but it can't hide the fact they haven't been renovated in a while. We've seen enough of the small towns here to draw a conclusion that France is definitely richer than Italy. There's noticeably more funding in Corsica for buildings and roadways than in Sardinia.

 

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How do you pronounce windy? We race down windy roads with huge windmill farms taking advantage of the windy climate.

English is funny.

How do you pronounce lamb? Like this: "om nom nom"

Up ahead, the town of Osilo is perched on the side of a hill. The square medieval tower of the Castello Malspina rises up above the town

Getting lost in the cobblestone streets of Osilo

 

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Between Osilo and Sassari, the road climbs to give us a great view of the plains and valleys below. That's the windy road we just took!

Sassari is the biggest city in the region. We get off the bikes to walk around the old historical centre and to grab a quick bite to eat for lunch

More narrow cobblestone streets in Sassari, clothes hanging out to dry

 

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Government buildings at the Piazza d'Italia (main city square)

Sassari is a lot prettier than the smaller towns we've visited. More tourist dollars pour in here.

Then after lunch, we hopped back on the bikes to take a quick 45-minute ride from Sassari to the Stintino peninsula in the north, which we've heard was one of the top tourist spots in Sardinia.

Rocky coast, sandy beaches and wind-swept trees at the Spiaggia La Pelosa (Pelosa Beach) in Stintino

 

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Fisherman in front of another defensive tower - Torre della Pelosa

Walkway to the beach

This couple is dressed appropriately for the weather

 

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Looking out into the waters surrounding us, I've realized that a pattern has emerged from the places we've visited over the last 7 months of travel:

Koh Samui, Koh Phangun, Koh Lanta, Penang, Singapore, Phuket, Brac, Hvar, Santorini, England, Isle of Skye, Isle of Man, Ireland, Corsica, Sardinia.

We've taken so many ferries and ridden over a lot of bridges, we've now got quite an Island Hopping theme going! What other islands can we ride?

Damn. Why am I so tired all the time?!?!

 

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Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/374.html

After our beach visit in Stintino, we ride into the city of Alghero, about an hour away, to settle in for the evening. We found a room available in an apartment online on Booking.com. Although it looked very basic, it was affordable and I suspect it would normally be out of our price range were it the height of tourist season.

When we arrived in the city centre, we couldn't find the exact address of our place. Neda had to stop and ask passerbys for directions. So thankful she speaks Italian! A younger, college-aged girl was extremely helpful and offered to walk us to the apartment, which just so happened to be around the corner. Neda went to check in and I stayed with the bikes.

I've been on point on communications duty for the both of us for the last while, and it felt good to just relax for a change.

I'm so freakin' tired these days.

Our place for the night in Alghero

As we unpacked our bikes to bring all the bags inside, we became quite the objects of curiousity as old Italian nonnas on their evening stroll around the neighbourhood stopped to stare at us with interest.

"Ciao!", I waved to them, speaking one of the only six Italian words I know. They smiled and nodded shyly and moved on.

I don't think we were the curiousity. I think *I* was...

Once inside the apartment, we found out that we were the only ones booked there, despite there being three rooms in total. We had the whole place to ourselves. Score! I love traveling in the off-season!

The next morning, we set off further south, hugging the coast out of Alghero

 

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It's a wonderful ride, the sun is shining on the twisty tarmac below our wheels, great view of the sea to our right, dramatic mountains on our left!

The coastal road turns up into the mountains and we stop for a break at a scenic turnout. A friendly stray dog comes bounding up to greet us. He seems very socialized to people. Perhaps someone's former pet? Or perhaps he can smell the doggy treats in Neda's tankbag?

"Awww... who's a good boy? Yes! You're a good boy! You're sooooo good!"

Besides riding around the world, I believe it's now our unofficial mission to feed all the stray dogs around the world.

The Goodest Boy

 

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I'm a good boy too, Neda. Take a picture of meeeeee!

Back on the road to do more mountain twisties

The route descends back to the coast as we come up to the next major city on our way south