OBSERVATIONS OF SARDINIA and CORISCA

Many moons ago I used worked in Sardinia. I loved it so much I tried to get a job there so I could live there on a permanent basis. Alas it didn’t work out. But I was excited to be able to go back and explore the parts of the island I didn’t get a chance to see when I lived there. Corsica had always been on my list and I decided it was now or never. These are my observations of these two incredible islands that even though very close together are worlds apart due to their food, culture and landscapes. 

SARDINIA

When I worked in Sardinia I was always at the very south, Cagliari. On this trip I decided to explore the North around Olbia. Here are the things I noticed about North Sardinia. Well, the first thing I noticed was on the plane from Berlin and it wasn’t a very nice observation for me. There were A LOT of young kids on the plane ride over, young meaning 5 and under. “What’s his problem with young kids?”. Nothing, I have absolutely no problem with young children. I hope to have at least one of my own one day in the near future. But I can’t STAND loud screaming obnoxious  spoiled kicking my seat like it’s a football rotten kids. Luckily the flight was only about 2 hours. Any longer and I might’ve hurt a parent for allowing their little monsters to run around the plane like that. Another passenger told me that a lot of German families hit Costa Smeralda for their vacations. Costa Smeralda is close to the major city of Olbia and very close to the airport. Needless to say I knew I wasn’t going to be spending too much time there. I did however spend most of my time in a small town called San Teodoro. It’s about 30 minutes south of Olbia and in my opinion the best place to use as a base to discover the Northern part of Sardinia. 

As I used to live and work in Italy I learned enough Italian to get by without any problems which is always helpful in Italy. If you don’t speak any Italian you’ll be able to get by, but you are going to have to work for it. Most menus are in multiple languages, but whether or not the waiter will be able to understand your questions about the menu is a totally different thing. But hey, vacation stories are always better with one funny story about misunderstanding something on the menu. I lucked out through and my roommate spent many summers in San Teodoro and told his friends to expect me. The town was READY when I got there. At the restaurant he told me his friends owned they had a table reserved when I got there, WHA WHA!! Seriously, what is in the water that makes island people so dang nice!? I have yet to visit an island where the people weren’t super friendly and welcoming. Somebody needs to breakdown the chemical components so I can bring it here to Berlin and sell it! Friends of my roommate dropped by to talk and give advice on the best places to go and compare schedules to see if they had time to give private tours. Lovely lovely people all of them. I went at the end of May beginning of June so the island was preparing for the tourist season. When I’d worked in Cagliari it was always the end of August beginning of September. This leads me to my second observation of Sardinia.

End of May/early part of June take a sweater or light jacket. It gets a bit nippy in the evenings. On the very tip of Sardinia where you can see Corsica in the distance it was even dare I say, cold in the evenings. That wind is no joke! I’m not a bodybuilder, but I’m not small either. The wind was strong enough to push me along a few times. Bring something warm or you’ll be adding to the local economy buying warm clothes for the evening. I came from Berlin so I had a jacket and sweater but there were a lot of tourists who were surprised.

Me at Santa Terese di Gallura

The beaches in Sardinia are some of the best I’ve ever seen. Period. I haven’t visited Southeast Asia yet or the Philippines. Hence me using “I’ve ever seen.” You could go to a beach, be amazed, then go to another beach just 2 minutes away from that first beach and it would look totally completely different! Felt like you were moving from country to country and not just beach to beach. Another great thing about Sardinian beaches is the color of the water. Whoa! I’ve seen photoshopped images of water that color before but in real life? The greenest greens and the bluest blues I’d ever seen. And CLEAR! Went on a boat tour and you end up at a secluded beach you can only reach by boat. One poor kid thought since the boat was close to shore he could just jump out and walk the rest of the way. It looked like knee deep water and I almost did the same thing he did. Luckily I move slower in my older age and the kid jumped out first. WOOSH! Looked like he was in a special effects movie with how far he kept going down. Talk about a WTF moment! Boat driver said the water was over 6 meters deep! That’s almost 20ft for my US readers ;-) But that was the only beach like that. All the other beaches I visited you could walk out half a mile into the sea and still be only in waist deep water. For a black person you can’t ask for better beaches than that! Super clear water so I can see sharks and super shallow so I can run back to shore just in case I do see something I’m afraid of. Only sorta kinda bad thing? The water was COLD! I think in the 6 or 7 days I was in Sardinia I went into the water maybe 2 times. When I say in the water I mean walking into it at all. My feet went instantly numb the first time I went in so that was pretty much enough for me. I took some nice photos of me standing directly at the waters edge. More than enough thank you very much.  

I know I already spoke about how nice the people are but it deserves special attention. The people were so nice a part of you thought they were trying to scam you. At one point I missed a bus I needed to catch after the rental car was turned in. No surprise I missed some form of transportation. A taxi driver offered to drive me where I needed to go but it was like €85 for what was a €7 bus trip. I decided to wait for the next bus which was like 5 hours later. When the taxi driver realized I was OK with waiting he kept on trying to give me tips for things I could do while I waited. At first I was like, “Back up homie.” I get uncomfortable when people invade my personal space! But he kept recommending and I finally relaxed and caved. He told me about a restaurant close by and I went. One of the BEST decisions I made on the whole trip! Was a REAL husband & wife place. While the wife cooked the kids did their homework in the kitchen with her. Talk about home cooking! The husband was telling me about all these places I needed to visit and people I should call once I got there. It was like visiting cousins family introduced you to online and you were meeting for the first time. In other places I visited things you had to pay for were not only free in Sardinia, but they were a little offended you thought they would charge you for it. How can you not love that!? 

Ok, my last observation of Sardinia is the food. Very very simple menu but always cooked with such a high skill it made it seem like you were eating at a Michelin restaurant. Perfect example of why people should be using fresh and local ingredients when they cook. Basic stuff I cook myself just tasted 20 times better when I was there. 

CORSICA

Ok, so let me begin my observations of Corsica what I ended with Sardinia, food. But before I begin I

Bonifacio, Corsica

have to say I didn’t spend as many days there as I planned. Due to loving Sardinia more than I thought and staying an extra day I didn’t see nearly enough of Corsica. Also an unexpected French holiday which meant absolutely no public transportation happening also limited my Corsican experience. 

So, Corsica is a French island while Sardinia is Italian. Italian food is amazing. I love it thru and thru. French food is a cuisine as I always tell people. It’s more complicated with many more layers. Some people like it, some think it’s too much. I lived in France before so I knew what to expect. In saying that, the food in Corsica was on some nother other level! Steak was rarely on the menu in Sardinia, but in Corsica it was always one of the main dishes. When in Rome.. Lord have mercy that steak I had in Corsica! If my mom would’ve asked me for a bite I would’ve had to think long and hard before I gave her a piece. I never knew beef could melt in your mouth like that! I could cut the dang meat with my SPOON it was so tender! Every restaurant had proper COURSES. The last place I ate in Corsica I ordered Guinea fowl on what I would have to describe as a golden lawyered potato cake. The waitress tried to take it before I’d eaten licked the plate clean and I almost karate chopped her in the throat! When food makes you consider resorting to being stingy with your momma and violence you know it’s good! Say what you want to about the French, but they throw DOWN in the kitchen!

Another thing you notice very quickly about Corsica is that it has more class and this definite elegant undertone that Sardinia doesn’t have. It’s not better, just different. Without anyone saying anything you automatically want to dress up a bit more when you go out for dinner in the evening. Coming from Berlin with its constant laid back casual style it was a nice change. I personally liked it and appreciated the people there stepping out looking well put together. Normally island folk are always casually dressed, not so much in Corsica. If anyone was dressed super casual you knew they were a tourist and not a local. All the time would be a bit too much for me but for the time I was there I appreciated it. 

The people. Yes. Well Corsicans are certainly nice, I mean it is an island after all. But at the end of the day they are French. There was still this very palpable distance with the people in Corsica. Could’ve had something to do with the language. Very few people spoke English and I don’t speak French. Normally you go somewhere where you don’t speak the language you ask young people. In this day and age most young people listen to English music and have contact with the language often enough they have a basic command, normally. No, not in Corsica. I would ask people, in French, did they speak English. They would answer “A little bit”, then proceed to speak in very fast French to answer my question. Wait. What? How does that work?? I ask you if you speak English, you say yes then proceed to only speak to me in French? And they didn’t even try to speak to me like I was deaf and dumb, meaning veeeery slooooow and loudly. Nope. They just spoke to me like I was born and raised in Paris and would understand everything they said to me. The only places people spoke English was in the hotels. As soon as you left the hotels French. Yeah, a bit more difficult to communicate than in Sardinia. 

What’s interesting is, as cultured as the cities and towns of Corsica are, the nature and landscape is WILD. In Sardinia you get the feeling the island has been run through with a comb. Like it’s been tamed to a certain degree, not in Corsica at all. Has this very real sense of wildness and rawness to it. I personally loved the contrast it creates between the cities and open spaces. That wildness though? Fucked my allergies UP! The last time I had an allergy attach THAT bad was well… in France! Years ago when I lived there near Lyon. I took allergy medicine the entire time I was in Corsica and double the normal dose when I felt the attack coming on. Didn’t help in the least. My eyes swole up so bad it looked like I’d smoked out on purple haze for 2 days straight! I was so congested I had to breathe through my mouth and still sounded like Darth Vader. I sneezed 19 times in a row with no break, TWICE! Just achooachooachooachooachooachooachooachooachoo. I was a HOT mess! To make matters worse, that was the day I was trying to catch a bus to another town and no one told me that it was a French holiday so nothing was running and all the car rental places were closed. I was standing at a bus station all alone looking like homeless junky cause I couldn’t see well enough to walk back to the city center to get another hotel. I had to wait it out until the swelling went down in my eyes enough for me to see which was oooh about 3hrs. Surprised no one called the police on me! Not the best memory of Corsica but I go back I’m taking a kilo of medicine in case that happens again! 

RUNNING MY FIRST 5K RACE

Here is the second part of my observations on that God forsaken 5K. Friday came all too soon. I was stressed because I went to bed late and had to work all day at a different client’s office from 8am – 5pm. All day I used every opportunity to minimize using my legs to conserve as much energy as possible. I used the elevator to go one floor up or down, pulled myself around the office in a chair with wheels using only my arms, hell I even sat down to pee. I was desperate for any small boost! During the day it started to rain. The first time I’m meant to run a 5K I have to deal with cold and wet conditions. Not to mention possible rain puddles along the course. I was sooo not feeling that race. I ended up leaving the client’s office way later than I planned and had to take a taxi. I changed on the way there. While changing, the taxi driver was asking me the most random questions. I don’t know if he was mildly autistic or gay. He asked if I’d had sex 48 hours before the race because that could affect my performance. I mean.. for real?! After a couple more RANDOM questions and comments he asks if I knew tomorrow was the CSD parade in Berlin. CSD is the Christopher Street Day parade in Berlin which is the Gay Pride Parade. I actually didn’t know that but he asked me because?? I finally had to just ignore him when he asked me what I’d wear to the CSD parade. Lord Jesus all of that before I even got to the race.   

Got there and what I thought was a small group of companies turned out to be a massive event with thousands of runners. THOUSANDS!! The client I was running for had t-shirts made that read on the front, “Sometimes we win…” And on the back, “And sometimes the others lose.”  Or something like that. It was in German so who the hell really knows. I personally didn’t understand why they’d want to antagonize the other runners like that. What if people took it personally and it made them run faster?? Pissed off people run faster right? And I had a number. You know ish gets serious when they give you a number. I was the fourth runner on my team so even though I was late I had enough time to relax and mentally prepare for the race. To make matters worse, whenever there is a sporting event white people always assume cause you’re black you are the best at that sport. Random people were joking with me about not making them look too bad, and keeping it interesting until at least the last kilometer. I felt like I was running for the entire black American population! Then I started seeing other black people at the event. To me, every single last other black person looked distinctly Ethiopian or Kenyan. They were warming up like paid professionals! I saw on guy sprinting around the warm up area for 10 minutes and he didn’t even break a sweat! Oh HELL no! I acted like immigration services around there, “Excuse me sir we’re gonna need to see some identification. How long have you resided in the country?? Do you have a valid work contract with this business? Are they holding any of your family members hostage during the running of this event??” Bastards! Cheatin as Mercedes and Edarling! Ya’ll KNOW ya’ll don’t have that many damn Africans who work for your company who are that fast! And I saw you too Bosch! Need to be shame! I almost turned them in to the race officials for that B.S.!

Clock was ticking and getting closer and closer to my turn to run. I warmed up, went through my paces. I have to admit, I started having flashbacks to when I would warm up for my events back in the day. I realized how much I missed it! I started remembering exercises and drills to do. Muscle memory is a beautiful thing! I was killin em! Too bad there is no lung memory cause I was pooped after I did all that mess.  Then the Senior Partner kept asking me what time I thought I would finish in. I’d never run a 5k before so I didn’t know what slow or fast. So I just said I’d do my best. Which is all anyone can really do right??

Finally it was time for me to take my position. It was a relay race so there was an actual baton that needed to be passed. I saw the familiar logo for the company coming towards me and I kept thinking, “Just make it through the first 100 meters. Just make it through the first 100 meters.” I wasn’t trying to psyche myself up or use some psychological trick. The first 100 meters ran past where the company I was running for was situated. I knew I could fake it like a motherfucker for the first 100 meters. And I did. It was a thing of beauty! My form was TIGHT! I looked like a damn gazelle separating from the pack! As soon as I got past where no one could see me from my team I went back to running like the guy who hadn’t trained and hated running. I almost caused a 10 runner pileup with how fast I decelerated.  I ain’t trying to kill myself for NOBODY. Shiiiiiid! Then I started trying to think of excuses I could give for the slow time I was sure to have. I tripped and twisted my ankle, the course wasn’t properly marked and I ran the wrong way, I had to help someone who fell. I literally played all of this out in my brain. Since I was running so damn slow I could easily run through all of the possible scenarios.

Like most things in life there are good and bad things to every personality trait. I’m actually very competitive. So competitive I have to limit who I play/do certain things with so I don’t get too hype. All these people were passing me. It started rubbing me the wrong way.  Then a woman passed me. I might have been able to let that pass cause she did look like she was in hella good shape, but the heffa had the nerve to say something to me as she went by! It was in German so I’m not 100% sure what it was, but I recognized the tone. I recognize indignation. This biatch had the nerve to be indignant with ME?! Not all black people train in the thin mountain air 6 days a week! That mess fired me UP! For me, anyone else could pass me, but not that lil ugly midget. I chased that biotch down and passed her! I even said, “Now what!?” when I passed her. And then my legs said the same thing to me right after. “Yeah, now what negro!? If you don’t keep up this pace she just gonna pass you again! Your ego just killed us. We gonna die if we keep running like this!” I’m so competitive the thought of that woman passing me again was too much to bear. I was determined to not let her pass me again! The dumbest decision in the history of dumb decisions.

I tried every trick I learned from my years of running track to just keep moving, focused on moving my arms, leaned forward a bit more so my momentum would propel me forward, focused on lifting my knees up high. That got me through about 500 meters. As I’m puffing my way through the course trying to stay ahead of my nemesis I see a number on a tree.. “2”. WTF is that meant to be?? That’s a problem with being an over thinker. Most might have ignored it and kept focused. I was utterly confused. “Soooo does that 2 mean I’ve FINISHED my second kilometer or I’m just STARTING my second kilometer?” It had felt like I’d been running for days by that point so if I was just starting my second kilometer I didn’t think I was gonna make it. For a while I’d heard this pounding in my ears. I assumed it was my heart working double time. Then I realized it was drumming. The race organizers had set up different drumming groups at various points along the course. Most of them were African drumming groups but it didn’t matter. I know it sounds crazy but those drums gave me LIFE! I started matching my steps to the beat of the drums. It gave me a little oomph in my step! When I realized there was more than one I pushed it a little harder so I could get within earshot of the next one that much faster. I started passing people! Ok, there were still hella people passing me but I was actually passing healthy men and not only special needs children and the handicapped. I’d found my zone! I was in my little 5K groove putt putting along. Then I saw a water station. I mean, great idea in theory. People are running, exerting themselves, they get thirsty. You provide water for them to quench that thirst. Wonderful! They should provide a pre-race seminar on how to drink water from a plastic cup while you’re running. When you’re out of shape and race tired you can focus on running or focus on drinking, you can NOT do both at the same time. My brain chose to use all functions to keep putting one foot in front of the other. So I damn near drowned myself. I squeezed the cup too hard and water shot down my throat and up my nose at the same time. I snoughed; that’s snorted and coughed at the same time. I had one thought in my brain as this is happening, “Only a dumb MF can drown in the middle of a 5K race.” F%ck me and this damn 5K.

So, 8 hours later, or what felt like it, I heard one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve heard in years, “Last kilometer!” Oh sweet baby Jesus the end is near! The entire course had been mostly just the runners and trees. We were running through a park. But the last kilometer there were more bystanders and co-workers of the runners. I have to admit it was kinda cool to have people cheering you on. Then I turn around one corner and it became something out of a dream sequence. The lane narrowed and on both sides of the running lane it was packed with people waving flags and cheering and yelling. I felt like Superman! Ok, a crippled Superman. I used every last bit of my energy to pick up some speed. I switched into sprinter mode! I was pumping my arms and running on the balls of my feet. I heard the wind whooshing past! I was zooming past people! The theme song from Chariots of Fire starting playing in my head and everything was in slow motion. I’d done it! I’d not only finished but finished strong! Then SCREEEECH! That running lane? There was a turn hidden by all of the spectators. That wasn’t the end of the race! I literally said out loud, “Da F&CK!?” What sadistic bastard would design a course like this?? I still had like 400 meters to go. I was done. FINISHED! I had nothing left to give. I didn’t walk, but that beautiful form I’d had just a minute ago was out the window. My head felt like it weighed 8,382 pounds. It was leaning so far back I could see the moon. My powerful arm motion was reduced to doggy paddling. My legs were so swollen from lactic acid I thought I was going to start a fire how hard they were rubbing together. I looked a hot mess. I finally saw the last runner on my team and lurched and wobbled to him and passed off the baton. I walked to the course exit like a new born baby elephant. Back at the client’s station and these MF’s are asking me about the part of the track they call the “fan mile”. Apparently every rookie makes that mistake on the course. All those people I thought were cheering us on? They were former runners laughing at our ignorance. Sure a few were probably yelling out warnings but who can concentrate that late in the race! That’s some old B.S. that my own team didn’t warn me. Stuff like that makes me not trust Germans.

Prologue

After an hour of stretching and relaxing I’m able to stand again. Everyone is leaving and I see the woman who started this whole thing. She recognizes me and comes up to me. For all I know she passed me at the end when I shot my load too soon and she’s coming to gloat. She says something in German but by this point my brain is barely able to register English. So in English she says, “I told you to keep up at the start and you passed me. I wanted to make sure I had a chance to speak to you after.” Wait, wait, WAAAAAAIT a minute! You mean to tell me she was trying to holla at a brotha?!?! She was trying to flirt and I misinterpreted it??!! Are you f#cking kidding me? All that pain and suffering for nothing?!? See, that’s why I hate running.

TRAINING FOR MY FIRST 5K

As a teenager I was fast. I mean turn off my bedroom light and in my bed before it was dark fast. Ok, I’m exaggerating, a bit. I did have world class speed though; AAU Junior Olympic medalist speed. Now, you would think one blessed with all of this natural ability for running would enjoy it as a past time or look at it as a comfort. Well if you thought that you’d be wrong. I hate running. Matter of fact there are certain times I detest it. Personally, I see it as a pointless activity that major shoe companies concocted as a means to sell overly expensive excessively specialized shoes. Absolute waste of time. With that, these are my observations on me training for and running my first 5K race.

Now, why did I run a 5K race if I am so strongly anti-running? I was tricked! A client of mine, law firm, casually asked what my late afternoon plans were for the third week of June on Friday. I often schedule appointments with clients casually so this wasn’t out of the ordinary. I was honest and said nothing. Next thing I know I’m signed up for a corporate 5x5K race. Bastards! Never trust a lawyer! Some of you might be inclined to say a 5K race isn’t long at all and I’m being a big baby. Well f#ck you. Matter of fact, f#ck you and yo momma. Her momma too AND ya uncle and aunties. I told you how much I hate running dammit!

At the time of the announcement of my inclusion on this team I had exactly 3 weeks to train. In addition to my world class speed I also have super human procrastination powers. The first time I motivated myself enough to train was 2 weeks before the race. For a normal 5k this would’ve been enough to prevent embarrassment at coming in last. Unfortunately, the employees of the law firm told me the Senior Partner who “asked” me to run is extremely competitive and doesn’t believe in any ‘just finishing is victory enough’ bullsh%t. To add to that, the other Senior Partner is in a running club and consistently clocks in at sub 22 minutes for his 5k. This guy is easily pushing 50 also. I felt like I had to step up my game!  My first training consisted of the treadmill. I hate running so I don’t need much of an excuse not to run, but constant rain and chilly temperatures made it clear the treadmill was as good as it was going to get that week. I made it through about 2 kilometers then literally said “This 5k can suck a dick”, then I went and lifted weights. If I passed out during the middle of the race I could at least look good when the EMTs wheeled my black behind to the Ambulance. With that thought I went shopping after and bought some new running gear, some nice running shoes and running shorts. The shorts were the perfect length to show off my nicely muscled thighs that are absolutely useless for running a 5K. 

Me during that first practice 5K

Running is so boring to me! People tell me how running is like yoga. Their brain turns off and they got lost in the mindlessness of the act. Well those people are brain damaged. Irreversibly brain damaged. My thoughts become laser focused. “Negro WTF are you DOING!?! There is no police chasing us so for the love of God STOP!” After a couple more attempts on the treadmill I figured it wasn’t the best place to always train and I needed to run outside to get a feel for the terrain. The first time I decided to run outside the weather was decent, not too hot or cold. I had €20 tucked inside my sock in case I needed to catch a taxi to get back home. I had my iPod full of old school tunes. I was set! I got about 5 minutes into my run and my legs and lungs started fighting like a bunch of 5 year olds. “That’s my oxygen! Give it back! I had it first! He took my oxygen!!” I knew I was in trouble if 5 minutes in I was having difficulty. I mean, if I live to be 100 I can finish a 5K. The problem was there were 4 other people depending on me to not only finish but get a decent time. The fact they believed their jobs depended on me having a good time was motivation enough. I learned something else during those first 5 minutes also. My ear canals are deformed. I mean, why else would my expensive running earphones keep falling out of my ears after every three steps. Almost 40 years old and I’ve lived my entire life with deformed ear canals. No way are my earphones pieces of crap that I wasted my hard-earned money on. Needless to say I didn’t run a full 5K that day.

So, the Monday before the race I decided to run a full 5K no matter how long it took me. If my memory serves me correct I finished on Wednesday afternoon. At least that’s what my legs felt like. I was DONE after that practice 5K. I live in a 5 story walk up which is more like a 6 story walk up because in Germany the ground floor isn’t counted as the first floor. I am not religious in the least but I almost found Jesus walking up those stairs. Or I was hoping he would find me and help carry me the rest of the way up. I might have offered up my first unborn child for bottle of cold water and a push too. I lift weights, regularly. But the pain I felt after that 5K was a whole nother other as we say where I’m from. I wasn’t even running fast! For the first time in like 17 years I took a bath. I had to cause standing up to take a shower was not an option.  I was not looking forward to that race. The next observations are on the actual race itself. To be continued...