Oristano, Sardinia: Another Working Day in Oristano –with Short Excursion to Gramsci House Museum in Ghilzara.

Tuesday, August 18, 2026

Oristano, Sardinia

Working Day in Oristano –with Short Excursion to Gramsci House Museum in Ghilzara.

I awoke, as usual, at 5.00 pm (darn body clock)! Spent most of the morning blogging, then reviewed some of my writing to decide what I wanted to read at Participant Readings this evening. Next, I piled on some clothes and went down for breakfast as it was already 8.00 am when I was done.

As I am trying a different breakfast each day, I ate my muesli with strawberry yogurt and some hot milk (or else it is too cold for me), then moved to the plain croissants with cold cuts and cheese (to make myself a takeaway sandwich for lunch). Next, I ate another plain croissant with butter and orange marmalade and tried one of the chocolate chip sponge cake wedges with Nutella and walnuts sprinkled on it. I washed everything down with a hot chocolate and I finished off with a fruit salad. Yes, I am eating far more breakfast than I normally do but the rest of my meals during the day (as we are so busy and barely have time to eat) are frugal. There is siesta here between 12.30-3.30 pm (so every shop, restaurant, etc. is closed and you cannot even buy a sandwich anywhere). I have been making a take-out croissant sandwich daily and it has been a real inspired idea to do this—if not, I would be starving. I met Tim at Breakfast but he left after about fifteen minutes as he too had work to do.

Breakfast done, I returned to my room to shower and get dressed and then got my backpack ready to leave at 9.30am and walk to the Institute. I was the earliest there together with Tim and Hal. We moved into the cooler room and about ten minutes later, our working day began.

My Story Being Critiqued Today:

As in the case of everyone else, I got some good reviews of my story. People said they were touched, some said “devastated” by the end and I got some really good suggestions for how to improve it by pushing the loss element further and leaving the protagonist’s surprise a true surprise (by not telling her anything even until she dies). I loved those suggestions. Tim found fault with the fact that the couple seem oblivious to what was going on in America at the time and that the carnal side of their marriage remained unexplored. I thought he was not quite right in assessing the mindset of immigrants who are too driven and wrapped up in their own plans for success that they are left untouched by whatever is going on around them. Anyway, I took notes fiercely and after my piece was analyzed, we moved on to the works of three other writers. It was a very fast-moving morning and we broke up at 1.00 pm for a short break. Most folks went looking for something to eat and returned empty handed (siesta) while I sat in the same room and ate my croissant-ham-and-cheese sandwich.

Visit to Ghilzara to the Gramsci House Museum:

Ravi had arranged for us to visit the home of Antonio Gramsci in a small village called Ghilzara which is about 40 kms away en route to Cagliari. Although I am not a philosopher and remain unfamiliar with Gramsci’s writing, I have been to enough conferences where every second panelist quotes from his work. Hence, I was intrigued and keen to take on this excursion.

Lorenzo, our driver, arrived at 1.30 pm and then with about 8 of us in his van, we made our way to Ghilzara along the motorway (everything was empty as people seem to hide away during siesta hours). In the first place, this place is so sparsely populated that it is a bit scary—Oristano has a total population of 30,000 people!!! We arrived at the spot at about 2.00 pm. Lorenzo left and there we were, standing in the blazing sun outside the doors of the Museum that were well and truly closed for the siesta. Some phone calls were made and we were informed that the place would open at 3.00 pm. That was a whole hour to kill in the torturous heat of the sun.

Thus began our walk through a tiny, ancient village that Time forgot. The houses were all uniformly old, with beautiful wrought iron balconies (a distinctive feature that I have not seen anywhere else in Sardinia). They are in various shades of brown from lightest beige to orche. It’s really interesting to me how monochromatic these places are. We wound around narrow streets (all completely empty) to pass by a war memorial monument and an old-fashioned faucet until we arrived at a garden-like restaurant called ‘Valparadiso’. There, we gratefully sat down to escape the heat and had ourselves a cooling drink—sparkling water, beer, Prosecco. And then it was time for us to march on again. This time when we arrived at Casa Gramsci, the door was open to us.

Visiting Casa Gramsci—the Home of Antonio Gramsci, Sardinian Philosopher and Communist Activist:

The former home of Antonio Gramsci has been turned into a very basic museum today. He was born in 1891 in Ales, a small village (not much different from this one, Ghilzara), the youngest child (hence called Nino) in a large family where his mother was a huge influence on him. At age 7, the family moved into this modest home in Ghilzara. It is three small rooms down and three small rooms upstairs (quite small for a family of seven—parents and five children). He went to the local school and continued to live in this home till the age of 20. He moved to Turin for higher education and became exposed to the fiercely divisive politics of contemporary Italy. The country was divided between the Communists and the Fascists—Gramsci was a Communist and his political writings landed him in jail from where he did the majority of his writing. The museum contains information about his early family life but not much about his later years. In fact, the Receptionist told us that an exhibit about his later years is currently being curated and it will be a while before this is made available to the public. What we did see were black and white photographs, blown up, on the wall, from his early years. As we walked from one room to the next, we saw how strong the family influences on him were and how voracious a reader he was from his earliest years. Upstairs, the same layout led us to his bedroom which was the most interesting element: there was a beautiful old single bed and a washstand and that is all. More pictures, some extracts from his writing (all in Italian) were also on carboard cutouts everywhere. I enjoyed stepping out on to the upstairs balcony and taking some pictures against the slate tiled rooftops with hazy mountains in the distance.

Not long after, Lorenzo returned (at 4.30 pm) to pick us up and we piled back into the van and returned to the Institute for the next item on our agenda: Student Readings of their own Creative Writing.

Participants’ Creative Writing Session:

I had signed up as the first one to read from my writing and I went first. Each person had ten minutes and I read from my short story, “Tea and Sympathy” All these stories were written more than 15 years ago—so I am re-visiting them after ages. I did not get to read the whole story (as we had only 10 minutes each) but I was able to provide a good idea of what the plot was like. People seemed to like it.

This was followed by readings from various other student-authors and I enjoyed very much the very high standard of their work. By then, it was almost 7.00 pm and we had one more item on the agenda: a talk-reading by our guest faculty, Peter Zilahy.

A Talk-Reading by Peter Zilahy:

Peter Zilahy is a Hungarian writer who grew up in Budapest, Hungary, when it was still behind the Iron Curtain. He started off with a reading from some of his prose and then had a free-wheeling conversation with all of us. His attitude is overly casual and his stance, as is to be expected, anti-Establishment. He hinted that his writing, during the Oban years, led him into self-exile in Venice where he now lives and from where he traveled for this Workshop. A few folks made comments or asked him questions which he answered as best he could. His own writing seemed nostalgic, harking back to his childhood and then arriving at his early adolescence when the Communist regime fell. He, therefore, straddled the worlds of Communism and Democracy and stated that these opposing systems impacted his writing. He had an hour on the floor after which, at a little past 8.00 pm. his session ended and we were free to leave. While his talk was on, we nibbled on a tray of vol-au-vents (rather soft and stale) filled with tomato sauce, olives, tiny mushrooms, gherkins, etc. There were also beer and Prosecco doing the rounds and we did keep hunger pangs at bay as we barely eat anything during the day.

Off to my Hotel for Dinner and Rest:

had been a long and very full day—plus being out in the blazing summer sun had taken its toll on us all. I felt quite tired for the first time since coming here. En route to the hotel, I had stopped at the SPAR and picked up a small container with a cold shrimp salad (made with fresh cherry tomatoes and red onions). It cost me 8 euros. I also bought myself a punnet of cherries (for 4 euros as I rarely get to eat those in India). Back in my room, I piled this salad on to my pasta that was still in the fridge and finished up the last of it. I also finished the remaining tub of tiramisu that was also in my fridge and then I felt replete. I used the time while I was eating to review the air tickets that Llew has sent me for our proposed trip to the US and UK in September-October. Then Llew called me and we had a long chat to iron out some schedule issues and to decide where he would meet me tomorrow when he arrives. We decided that I would meet him at the Cagliari airport in time for the arrival of his flight and together we would take a taxi to our hotel.

I then kept my clothes ready for tomorrow morning when I have an early morning appointment with Tim and Ravi—a final consultation. After this, I will be free—it will be a good time to finish out the sight seeing I intend to do on the Sinis Penninsula.

Until tomorrow, ciao…

Olbia, Sardinia--A Free Day Sees me in Olbia, Exploring the North of Sardinia

Monday, August 17, 2026

Olbia, Sardinia

A Free Day Sees me in Olbia, Exploring the North of Sardinia

It was a free day today for us New York Writers Workshop participants. I had elaborate plans to buck the trend (most folks intended to spend it at nearby beaches) and travel all the way to the neighboring island of Corsica. With some imaginative juggling, I felt sure I could make it there and back in one day. No such luck! Train and ferry schedules conspired against me and refused to be in sync. If I did the ferry crossing, I would have no time at all to see Corsica and if I stayed on there as long as I desired, I would miss the last train back from Olbia to Oristano. It made sense then to spend the day exploring beautiful Olbia and I have to say that I was glad I took that course of action at the last minute.

But first things first: I had a taxi coming to my hotel at 7.00 am to take me to the Oristano train station to catch my 7.30 am train. As the hotel’s breakfast buffet only opened at 7.00 am, the Receptionist was kind enough to allow me to eat my breakfast at the lobby bar where the Receptionist on duty brought me two warmed croissants and a massive glass of caffe latte (as that was what I had requested instead of a cappuccino). Fueled with this sustenance in my belly, I felt mor confident about making the long journey ahead of me—solo, I might add, as no one wanted to be as foolhardy as me!

All went well at Oristano train station where I reached very early and waited in the Waiting Room until my platform was announced (last-minute change). I found myself a lovely seat: it was a two and a half hour journey, cutting across the entire island of Sardinia to get to Olbia. Along the route, I passed by fallow fields (Sardinia is uniformly beige with the occasional patch of green to relieve the monotony of the scorched landscape) with grazing sheep, olive groves, cows in pasture or chewing the cud in the shade and vineyards with fruit plumbing under the blazing summer sun. While on the train, I was desperately scrolling through train and ferry schedules to try to coordinate my journey to and from Corsica (as I was aware that the last train to leave Olbia to return to Oristano was as early as 6.00 pm—no trains down south after that one).

It was when the conductor looking for tickets came along (and spoke perfect English) that I realized I would miss the last train down if I stayed on track (as it were!) with my plans. In the afternoon, for three hours (between 12.30 and 3.30 pm), there are no ferries crossing the straits between Corsica and Sardinia (everyone taking their afternoon siesta perhaps). Hence, I could have reached Corsica by 1.30 pm but would have to wait till 3.30 pm to get the ferry back. This would only leave me two hours in Bonifacio and, worse still, would not enable me to make the 6.00 pm train back to Oristano. So, just about fifteen minutes before I arrived at Olbia Terranova (the conductor told me to “forget about” Olbia Airport or Olbia stations—the other two in the town as they would not serve my purpose at all), I took his advice and on alighting at Olbia Terranova, I asked a female train conductor there (who spoke perfect English) if she could help me find a return train to Oristano. She pulled out her online schedule and told me that there was a train leaving Olbia Terranova at 2.18 pm to arrive at Oristano at 4.45pm. This was simply perfect for me. And so, with her help, I purchased my ticket at one of the ticket machines and set off to explore Olbia.

An Afternoon Spent in Olbia:

Olbia is on the northeast coast of Sardinia—the other side of the Mediterranean Sea! Again, my Lonely Planet notes were very helpful in enabling me to figure out what I wanted to see and do. There are basically three things they line up: The Basilica, Old Town and the Archeological Museum. Once I got my bearings, using my Google maps for guidance, I arrived at Corso Umberto—the main street from where I walked to the Basilica Square. It is a huge concrete and granite creation that has not a single tree anywhere near it. The summer sun is merciless here in Sardinia and everyone is sheltering under shade. I went straight inside the Romanesque structure to explore it.

Exploring the Basilica of San Simplicio:

Just inside the door of the Basilica were two young men charging entry fees (3 euros) for exploring the church! Can’t believe how commercial these churches are getting! Anyway, I felt happy that the amount was small. Inside, I was given a booklet containing information in English which enabled me to appreciate the architectural features. It was built at the end of the 11th century at the behest of the judges of Gallura (the province under which Olbia falls). The church is the most ancient and religious monument in Northern Sardinia and is dedicated to Simplicio, a bishop who was martyred in 304AD and later canonized as the only bishop decorated with the palm of martydom. The church stands on the location of an ancient pagan temple once dedicated to the goddess Ceres. The antiquity of the church is evident the moment you enter as the brick walls remain unplastered. The ceiling is held up by stone columns that bring the eye to the rather plain altar characterized by more arched pillars and columns. Under the altar, there is a depiction of the bust of the saint in wood and gilding. A gigantic ebony cross with a pristine white Crucified Christ hangs above it and makes for a very arresting focal point. I spent a few minutes in quiet prayer before leaving to go out into the blazing sun again. I used my Google map to get me to Corso Umberto once again and from there, I made my way to the next item on my agenda: Old Town.

Olbia’s pretty Old Town:

Olbia’s Old Town is ve/ry different from Oristano (which is far older) Here, all life centers around the main square which is lined with chartreuse trees that offer welcome shade and lovely boutique shops, souvenir stores and gelaterias. Along the way, to get there, you will pass by a series of shops run by either Orientals or Middle Easterners (complete with head scarves) who sell really cheap made-in-China souvenirs. I have never seen more magnets in a single place than I saw along this boulevard. And yes, I did join the gang and bought one too that depicted all the places in Sardinia that Llew and I will see together.

When I did reach the main square, I settled down first on a shady step close to a gelateria and had my first coppa of the gorgeous dessert: there are now far more artisanal flavors than there used to be in Italy. I had Bacio (based on the hazelnut chocolate similar to the America Kiss—individually wrapped and bursting with flavor) and a Caramelized Fig gelato—two scoops in one small pot. I could not believe how small these little cups are—I have become too accustomed to the generosity of American vendors who pile on their wares when you step out to buy them! Anyway, I have to say that my coppa with two gusti was just delicious and I was glad I indulged, although alone. When Llew is here, we will eat a lot of gelato daily!

That done, I walked down the hill towards the waterfront and once there, I stopped to marvel at the prettiness of the place, its uniformity of color—orche and soft shades of pink, mainly salmon). Just past the main square, there is a secondary square with a tumbling modern fountain in the center encircled by very colorful structures and a plethora of Italian restaurants serving fresh Sardinia seafood. Alas, this treat will have to wait for me until Llew gets here as I have avoided entering and eating alone in good restaurants. I sat and finished up leftover pizza and half a sandwich that I had brought from home and with these, I felt fortified to continue my walk.

Down the hill I went, passing by realtors, boutiques, etc. until the sparkling sea was right in front of me. Olbia is a port city and I could see a cruise ship in the harbor. Its promenade alongside the waterfront, is decorated in the way that the promenades in Rio in Brazil were outfitted—with swirling mosaic waves in black and white. I walked along the promenade for a while, posing for pictures and asking a passer-by to take mine.

Next, I stepped into another large supermarket (Super Pan) and picked up plain croissants, prosciutto and sliced fontina cheese with the idea of making myself a sandwich to eat later on the train. It was a very wise move indeed. This done, I requested the use of a ladies room in a Japanese restaurant—they were very kind and permitted it at once. This allowed me to start the climb up the hill to the Main square once again where I stepped into a vintage shop and admired its wares. I did a bit more window shopping before I realized that I should probably make my way back to the train station. En route, I spied a beautiful silk scarf and I immediately decided to buy it because it featured olives of all kinds, colors and shapes plus lemons and plums—the most abundant fruits of Sardinia. I could not think of a better souvenir to take from this island and armed with that find in my bag, I made my way back to the station. I was a little early so I sat in the waiting room and made myself a sandwich which I ate very peacefully. I notice that, as in France, people are not always eating, everywhere. No one eats in public transport, for instance, and I have to make sure I do not either.

Train Journey Back to Oristano:

My train was on schedule, I jumped into it, found a seat and began the ride down south again. I had one change to make this time around and there were a whole lot of people changing at this spot (Osteri-Chiltiani). There, on another platform was my train going past Oristano and on to Cagliari. I boarded it quite painlessly and found a window seat. I used the time to read the sample writing that we will be workshopping tomorrow—so my time spent commuting both ways was very productive indeed. I requested the girl sitting opposite me to use my phone to call a cab at Oristano station to meet my train at 4.45 pm and this she gladly did.

So when I got off at Oristano, Andrea who was supposed to be waiting for me was not there---but I waited for just a few minutes and he arrived. It was not long before I was in my hotel again.

I spent the rest of the evening getting unpacked from my day’s excursion, having a snack of crackers and gorgonzola cheese and a coffee that I made in my room before I chatted with Llew on the phone. As the evening progressed, I continued with reading student sample writing and then at about 8.15 pm, I had my leftover pasta with shrimp of the previous day and a delicious pastry bursting with lemon curd and a touch of dark chocolate (which I had picked up from the Instituto).

And on that happy and filled note, with sleep washing over me and not fighting it any further, I climbed into bed after brushing and flossing my teeth and getting ready for tomorrow and its program.

Until tomorrow, ciao…

Oristano, Sardinia--Another Working Day in Sardinia

Sunday, August 16, 2026

Oristano, Sardinia

Another Working Day in Sardinia

It is Sunday but, for some reason that I cannot figure out, we are working on full schedule today and will have a free day tomorrow! I awoke at 5.00 am and began blogging. An hour later, I was done. I jumped into the shower and got dressed for breakfast. Today, I had muesli with strawberry yogurt, made myself a sandwich with a plain croissant, some smoked ham and cheese and ate it right there (I did not make a takeout sandwich today as I have a few leftovers in the fridge that I would like to finish). Then, I had a bowl of cut-up stone fruits (yellow plum and fresh apricot—the nectarine was too tart and I had to leave it). All washed down with a hot chocolate. It made a lovely breakfast. Then, I was out the door and walking towards Old Town to find the ATM machine so that I could get out some Euros.

Early Morning Walk in Old Town:

It’s really such a good thing, come to think of it, that Old Town is right across the street from the lane in which my hotel (Mistral 2) is located. In just five minutes, I am crossing the old walls of the medieval city and finding myself in a completely different venue. Logn story short, on a Sunday, the place was dead—only a couple of dog walkers around. The church doors of San Francesco were open, but there was no Mass at that time. I took a few pictures in the Piazza of Eleanora and then walked to the Unicredit ATM machine and got out 120 Euros (about $150). Then, since I was still quite early for my Workshop session, I explored a few shops of Old Town. Not much later, I found the narrow, quaint lanes that would lead me back to the Delada Instituto.

Morning Session by Tim:

Tim was the star of our morning session with his presentation on “Draft, Revise, Review”. He had lovely examples from the Diaries of Susan Sontag and then asked us to do a spot of writing ourselves in just 4 minutes: Profile of a Day, a character sketch and portrait of a place (all in bullet points). Very interesting exercise. It is something from which I could profit as I am always so wordy—even in my blog posts! There were pastries for us to choose from and with one in my bag for later, we were all free. I chose to sit down in the Instituto itself, in the air-conditioned room and review my draft of my memoir (only 2 pages done so far). Then, at 12.30, I ate my lunch that I had carried along (leftovers from my fridge in my hotel—couscous and potato salad with a chocolate donut that was just divine).

Afternoon Workshopping Session:

At 1.30 pm, our afternoon workshopping session began. We had four students’ work to review: Mara, Jane, Lisa and Hal. The feedback they received was very helpful, I think, and they are all so willing to rewrite—that’s the best part of really good writers. They know that good writing involves workshopping, being open to comments and criticism and incorporating them into their work.

We were all done by 4.30 pm. I had made plans with Annalisa to have a zoom chat with her at 5.30 pm from my hotel. So, after the session I raced off and returned to my hotel. However, I did not go straight up. I spent quite a while at the Reception counter where two very helpful girls pulled up the train schedule for tomorrow from Oristano to Olbia and back (as I intend to spend the day in Corsica). I now have the train timings and will only hope that the connections I have to make by bus and then by the ferry crossing the straits to get to Corsica will work as planned. I am going it alone as Ifeona backed out when she found out how long the journey is and how much time it takes to do it in one day and get back. Equipped with this information, I felt more at ease. I returned to my room and spent a while getting my backpack ready for my trip tomorrow--trying to keep it as light as possible. At 5.30 pm on schedule, I had my video chat with Annalisa who now lives in Padua (her flat in Vincenza is being completely renovated to be rented out soon). It was absolutely joyous to catch up with her after such a long time. We spent more than an hour chatting (up to 6.30 pm), when I had to race to get myself organized for the next part of our day.

A Classical Guitar Recital at the Museo Diocesano:

I met Ifeona at the door of her hotel, just down the road, where we were joined by Tim too. The three of us than walked across the road to Old Town and arrived at the Museum Diocesano which is attached to the Duomo. There, inside, we discovered that there is a big exhibition on Tharros—perhaps I shall go there again, if time permits.

The evening’s recital was underway soon enough (at 8.00 pm). It was organized by Ciriaco, who heads the Delada Instituto. He introduced the three guitarists (who are apparently celebrities in their community) and they were off. The concert lasted about an hour and was quite lovely with two guitarists and one percussionist who also played a tiny guitar (a ukulele, perhaps). Then, with everyone starving, we went out looking for dinner.

Finding Dinner in Old Town:

And with that all done and behind me, I took the elevator to my room, had my medication (my cold is now an irritating cough—so bad sometimes that I actually had to leave the room to get over a coughing fit) and went right to bed—at 11.30 pm. Lots of prayers before I fell asleep for the success of my trip tomorrow.

Because it is a Sunday, almost nothing is open today and even the restaurants are closed. After settling down at Il Duomo, we discovered that they only serve drinks and snacks—no food. So off we went deeper into Old Town where it was really hard to find a place to eat. Eventually, Ifeona, Anastasia and I found a place where I finally had pasta—although my Spaghetti con Gambero (Spaghetti with Shrimp) was quite disappointing. I found it much too al dente for my liking and also lacking in flavor. Anyway, while at the table, I realized that I needed to return to the ATM machine to get out more cash for my trip to Corsica tomorrow and that the Receptionist Frederica would go off duty at 11.00pm. So I paid my bill, took another take-out container with my leftover pasta and raced off to the Unicredit machine where I got my money in five minutes. Then, I raced back to my hotel and got Frederica before she went off duty. She helped me buy my ticket to Olbia tomorrow, using my credit card and with that in the bag (12.50 euros one way), I felt so much more at ease. Tomorrow morning, I have a taxi coming at 7.00 am to get me to the Oristano station (25 minutes’ walk). Plus, I was told that I could come down at 6.30 am and get a bit of breakfast (perhaps a croissant or two and a cappuccino) before I get into my taxi. So far, things seem to be working—let’s hope they stay this way.

And with that all done and behind me, I took the elevator to my room, had my medication (my cold is now an irritating cough—so bad sometimes that I actually had to leave the room to get over a coughing fit) and went right to bed—at 11.30 pm. Lots of prayers before I fell asleep for the success of my trip tomorrow.

And with that all done and behind me, I took the elevator to my room, had my medication (my cold is now an irritating cough—so bad sometimes that I actually had to leave the room to get over a coughing fit) and went right to bed—at 11.30 pm. Lots of prayers before I fell asleep for the success of my trip tomorrow.

Until tomorrow, ciao…

Oristani, Sardinia: Celebrating Ferrogosta (Assumption Day), a National Holiday in Italy.

Saturday, August 15, 2026

Ferrogosta (Assumption Day), a National Holiday in Italy.

Had another crammed day—but quickly ticking items off my Oristano To-Do List is proving to be great fun!

Woke up at 5.30 am (still on Bombay time), to begin blogging and getting unpacked. The joy of having my own baggage back and climbing into my own PJs last night knows no bounds. It gets light here very early in the morning but the streets are absolutely deserted—this is such a small town and seems completely devoid of people. Blogging done, I went in for a shower and shampoo, dried my hair and by 7.00 am, I was down in the restaurant, ready to have breakfast.

When you are staying in the same hotel for a week, you have the chance to taste a different kind of breakfast daily. Yes, I made myself a takeout sandwich again with smoked ham and provolone cheese and then headed for the muesli with apricot yogurt, ate a small apricot croissant and a small pain au chocolat and then tasted a number of unusual stone fruit that I do not get easily in India (a beautiful ripe peach, yellow plums and a perfect fresh apricot) all washed down with a hot chocolate. Yes, the breakfasts here are abundant and delicious.

Then, because it is the feast day of Assumption (a day of Obligation for Catholics), I decided to take a walk in Old Town, Oristano, with the idea of finding the door to the Cathedral. I felt certain it would be open for Mass on this morning as the day is a huge national holiday in Italy—Ferrogosto! The streets were all the more deserted (they are empty to begin with—indeed, this seems like Ghost Town) and the supermarket SPAR, although open, was empty.

Early Morning Walk in Old Town, Oristano:

I crossed the main road (Via Cagliari) and arrived at the remnants of the old medieval town of Oristano that are well-preserved behind a metal net. I took some pictures and then followed the road. Suddenly, I found myself in a most charming part of the city—walls were thick and older and orche in color, flowers (bougainvillea and morning glory) spilled over them, tiny churches with bell towers and turrets appeared and shops, although closed, promised exciting wares in the shape of paintings and artisanal products. I found steps leading into a church which turned out to be the Church of Saint Francis (San Francesco) and since Mass was already on (it was a little after the sermon), I took a seat and stayed on till the end, getting the Offertory and even receiving Communion. There were about 20 people in the church.

After Mass, I wandered around Old Town, taking photos of the unique architecture of the area which is old and evocative. Sadly, the Cathedral was closed and although I encircled it, I could not find any way to get inside. Soon, after going through a small lane, I found myself outside the Delada Instituto and had my bearings. I passed alongside it and then returned to my hotel, to pick up my bag and get back for our 10.00 am session.

Emma Sweeney’s Session on Creative Courage:

Emma’s session began at 10.00 am. It was different but very interesting. We were invited to think about creativity (in various forms—not just Writing) and consider those aspects that prevent it in our present lives. It was indeed a workshop session with her posing various questions that we were invited to think about and jot down—by hand, she insisted, not on our PCs (good thing too as I had not carried my laptop). At the end, after she had posed very provocative questions, she invited us to partner up with a friend and vent—grumble, groan, mourn--about those elements that are hampering creativity and find out what steps one can take to eliminate them in one’s life. I thought it was a truly amazing session and one I thoroughly enjoyed. Then, everyone had the afternoon free (as it was a feast day) and I headed to my room in the hotel to pack up a beach bag as I decided to join a few friends at the beach.

Afternoon at Alturas Beach:

Ravi arranged for Andrea, the taxi driver, to take us to Alturas Beach (40 Euros, one way for the four of us) and we (Ravi, Ava Goldfarb, Anastasia Holmes and myself) decided to head out with him at 1.00 pm. The drive there took about 20 minutes past open countryside that was largely bare and deserted. There is hardly anyone on this island—although vast. it is thinly populated. We passed by the peculiar squat tower-like structures that hark back to pre-historic times. Had we more time, we could have explored sites such as Sinis (a squat tower stands) and Tharros (where they have found stone human figures larger than life-size), but, we have almost no time for this.

Once at the beach, luckily for us, Andrea gave us two beach umbrellas—seriously, they saved our afternoon as we would never have been able to stay on for 3 hours there without them. The sun was merciless, the sand was hot (thick sand but pure white in color) and we quickly set them up after finding a spot that appealed, directly overlooking the jade waves and then spent the rest of the afternoon there. I used the time to read up on the four student sample writing that has been submitted (Jane, Lisa, Mara and Hal). In-between, the four of us went right into the water. It was not cold, but not as warm as a bathtub either. I was glad we went—despite the hot glare of the afternoon sun as I do not think I will get another opportunity for beach time or the company to get there. The rest of my group actually had a swim (I merely waded for a while in sand that was loose and seemed to pull you down—quite disconcertingly) but for the most part, we sunbathed or read.

Ravi stepped out, after a bit, to buy us food for a late lunch (it was almost 3.00 pm) and returned with a tomato and mozzarella sandwich, and two tubs: one with a couscous salad and the other with a hearty potato salad. They were both quite delicious. After a call with Andrea produced the information that he could only come and pick us up at 8.00 pm, we thought that would be much too late, of course, and decided to find our own way back. It was a truly lovely time at Alturas Beach and I know I will always associate Sardinia with jam-packed beaches on a holiday, the sand completely carpeted with people of all ages, loads of colorful plastic beach toys and floatation devices in the water and a general air of family festivity everywhere.

Our Quest to Get Back Home:

Having discovered that there was a public bus running back to Oristano, we used the rest rooms at the pavilion and then made our way to the bus stop, after asking for directions on where to stand. Of course, we had absolutely no idea how frequently the bus would run (especially on a holiday) or what its timings were—but we knew we would figure it out.

Imagine our absolute delight when a bus pulled up just as we reached the bus stop! I mean talk about fantastic luck! We asked the driver how much the ticket was and it turned out to be just 3.50 euros per head to return on a 40-minute ride back to Oristano. One of us paid and with that, we began the long ride back. En route, we passed by Sinis, the plateau on which one of the pre-historic structures consisting of single, squat stone towers still stands. The fields are either fallow or productive at this time but the general color of the landscape is brown. In about 40 minutes, we were on the outskirts of Oristano and jumping out at the bus depot which was next door to the Delada Instituto.

Exploring Old Town in Oristno Again and Paying a Vist at the Duomo:

I continued along Old Town again, this time with Ravi for company, and arrived at the steps of the Cathedral. To my great good luck. I found a door open (it was about 6.30 pm) and inside I went. What a gorgeous interior it had! It is the Cathedral of Sancta Maria Assumpta (Our Lady of the Assumption) and quite appropriately so, on the Feast of the Assumption, there were a few people praying inside. The entire structure is in high Italian Baroque style with marble everywhere—in barley-twist pillars, on the altar, walls and floors in variegated colors. Lots of statues in marble of prominent saints in individual chapels, each more ornate than the next. And there is a beautiful painted ceiling that was in bright turquoise blue under the great dome with other paintings of Biblical scenes that just begged to be photographed. I was so glad that, after paying a visit and making my three wishes, I was able to tick off another item from my To-Do List.

Then, I walked along the streets of Old Town to my hotel where I realized how tired I was. The sun truly saps one’s energy and coupled with the high temperature, it is truly scorching. I unpacked my beach bag, and being quite hungry, decided to finish my leftover dinner from yesterday (delicious thin crust pizza) for dinner tonight. My colleagues were going out to dinner, but I declined and told them I would meet them at a restaurant of their choice, later on, as the plan was to go on for the festive fireworks to Torre Grande Beach.

Accordingly, after getting about an hour’s rest and staying in phone communication with Ifeona and Tim, I ate part of my sandwich, most of my leftover pizza and took my medication as the cold is still present in the background. I then changed, got dressed again and made my way to Lidris restaurant in Old Town, at Piazza Eleanora, where I found them in a most delightful place, a garden-like space where they were seated (about eight of them) having just enjoyed a drink and nibbles. They then went on to order mains (I tasted the Tagliatelle with truffles which was exceptionally flavorful) and with them finishing what looked like a very nice dinner, we took a long walk, past festive Old Town towards our hotel (Tim, Emma, Ifeona and me). Yes, finally, Oristano seemed to have come into its own. There was a hearty energy on this evening with many folks walking around or seated at outdoor café tables and eating very late dinners. We found a bank with an ATM machine but because my bank card was still in my beach bag, I did not have it with me—bummer! But at least I now know where it is and can go back and pick up some euros tomorrow.

And with that long walk past winding streets, evocatively lit with soft lighting, we reached Tim’s hotel. They said their goodbyes to Emma but she and I walked on to our hotel where I said my goodbye and thanked to her for lending me her clothing.

And on that happy note (Emma is leaving early tomorrow morning and returning to her home in North Wales), I returned to my room to brush my teeth and crash.

Until tomorrow, ciao…

Oristano, Sardinia: First Day of the New York Writers Workshop

Friday, August 14, 2026

Oristano, Sardinia

First Day of the New York Writers Workshop

I woke up inordinately early in my hotel as I am on Bombay time. Hence by 5.00 am, I was up and blogging—an endeavor that kept me busy for at least a whole hour as I had so much to blog about our nightmarish ordeal of the journey to this spot yesterday. Still, I am not tired. I have what seems like a cold and taking the medication I bought from the pharmacy yesterday certainly did help. I slept soundly, if for too short a time.

Them, with daylight breaking outside, it was time to go to downstairs for breakfast—service begins at 7.00am. I got dressed in the clothing Emma Sweeney had lent me last night and made my way downstairs to the restaurant. The breakfast is generous—indeed quite magnificent. There is a variety of cold and hot stuff: Italian breads and breakfast pastries plus a bunch of cakes (which Italians seem to eat in the morning), cereals (muesli and cornflakes with flavored yogurts), bread that you can toast and make sandwiches with, smoked ham and provolone cheese, a variety of croissants and brioche and pain au chocolate, plus hot options such as scrambled eggs and bacon with tomatoes and the wafer-thin, crispy bread called curacau, a specialty of Sardinia. There is tinned and stewed and fresh fruit too. You could stay here for a week and eat a different breakfast each day. For this, my first breakfast here, I chose grapefruit juice (a bit too tart for my liking), muesli which I ate with cherry yogurt, scrambled eggs and bacon with curasau and a hot chocolate. I also took a herb-sesame croissant with some ham and cheese and made myself a sandwich to eat at lunch time. I am entitled (with this room) to two breakfasts—so I have told my colleague Ifeona (who gets no breakfast) that she can come and eat at my hotel. She is only too pleased to do so.

Breakfast done, I ran into Emma who told me that we began today at 10.00, not 9.00 am as I had thought. As I was getting no internet connection in my room, I sat close to Reception, hoping to pick up a stronger wifi signal—but no dice! There seems to be a hardware issue with my laptop. I am urgently now in need of a new one. I sat downstairs and when I saw that there was no signal, I left my backpack at Reception and walked across the street to the huge supermarket called SPAR, where I browsed around to my heart’s content for half an hour. There was such a mouth-watering array of foods and drink (and Italian being my favorite cuisine, I saw a huge bunch of items I could buy (I would do so later in the day).

Then, as planned, I returned to the hotel, met Emma there and the two of us walked together to the Delada Instituto to be in time for our first 10.00 am session of the day. Ravi held the fort as he spoke about The Hermit Crab Essay, telling us about the wisdom of using non-literary forms of writing for inspiration in our own Creative Writing. I enjoyed the session which was short and sweet. We were then left with about two hours to ourselves and while most folks, finding it already too hot, returned to their hotels, I decided to explore the adjoining Bishop’s Garden which is attached to our own property. And what a fab place it turned out to me! But the gates were locked and, luckily, I ran into Alberto, one of the personnel here. He opened them for me and I was able to wander inside and find a glorious spot in the fruit orchard. And so there, surrounded by falling lemons, limes, orange and quince tress, with a rose garden in bloom around me, olive trees lending shade and the architectural grandeur of the outlines of the Duomo of Sancta Maria Assumpta right in front of me, I found myself a shady glen. It was there that I continued the outline of the work that I hope will become my own personal memoir. I had started the outline in the classroom inside but I lengthened it and then actually decided to start writing the first chapter. Time flew as the tolling bells of the church peeled a musical carillon at exactly 12 noon. Nothing could evoke Italy more sharply for me and I felt as if I had to pinch myself to believe that I am here, having this brilliant opportunity and making the most of it.

At 1.00 pm, I stopped to eat my croissant sandwich lunch and enjoyed it thoroughly. Although it was hot, it was neither unpleasant nor oppressive in the shade and living in Bombay now with its tropical climate, allows me to be much more tolerant of the heat. At 1.00 pm, I went inside into the cool comfort of an air-conditioned classroom. It was time for our Sample Writing critiques and the three faculty members (Ravi, Tim and Emma) did a very competent job in leading the group while other folks added the benefit of their opinions too. I had discovered, by this time, that I could not pick up the internet on my laptop even in this location—a very distinct indication that the hardware on my PC needs repair.

The Critique Session was an enormous success with five pieces reviewed and dissected. All five participants took the criticism well and time flew. We had a few breaks in-between to stretch our legs, use the facilities, etc. Before we knew it, it was 5.00 pm and we closed shop. Almost all of us returned to our respective hotels as our next meeting was at 7.00 pm for our Faculty Readings. En route to my hotel, I stopped at the SPAR and picked up a few things: milk, a wedge of Gorgonzola cheese, a packet of TUCS crackers, and two small pots of Tiramisu. In my hotel, I discovered that my bag had not yet arrived. However, I was able to make myself a hearty snack with the crackers and cheese and a pot of Tiramisu—so delicious! Then, I kept my laptop to charge and returned to the Institute for the 7.00 pm Reading.

All three readers did a grand job but I particularly enjoyed Tim’s account of his troubled relationship with his father which is part of a memoir on which he is working. He is such a wonderful writer. Emma and Ravi followed and it was great hearing them read and explain the context behind their writing. Then, at 8.30 pm, it was time for us to think about dinner.

Tim and Ravi chose a place called Ristorant Panne e Olio and with about ten of us trooping down there, we were sat at a table where we had a hearty meal. I have to admit that I was still too full with my tea-time snack, but I did order a pizza with prosciutto, caramelized onions and gorgonzola cheese. It was very good but there was no way I could eat it all and so I had most of it packed away for me (it will be my dinner tomorrow). Dinner stretched late into the night with several folks ordering red or white wine (which is really cheap here). It was finally after midnight when we got up to leave and with Emma, I walked to our hotel and straight to her room to borrow another change of clothes from her as my bag did not seem to have arrived. It was not in the Reception area although I searched thoroughly. Upstairs, in her room, we found a pair of pants and a top I could use and with these, I returned to my room, two doors down, only to discover—Glory Be!—that my suitcase had arrived and had been deposited in my room. Of course, I returned the items to Emma and then went about doing all the things I needed to do before getting ready for bed. It had been a very long day and so all I did was take my cold medication and go straight to bed.

Until tomorrow, ciao…

CRUISING THE MEDITERRANEAN ISLES (SARDINIA, SICILY AND MALTA: 3, 2026 Journey from Bombay to Oristano, Sicily and Introduction to Participants in the New York Writers Workshop:

CRUISING THE MEDITERRANEAN ISLES

(SARDINIA, SICILY AND MALTA—AUGUST 2026)

Thursday, August 13, 2026

Journey from Bombay to Oristano, Sicily and Introduction to Participants in the New York Writers Workshop:

Buongiorno from Italy! Yes, I am here and ensconced in a lovely hotel in the pretty little town of Oristano on the turquoise blue island of Sardinia. But how did I get here? Well, long story! Very long story! So, let’s get back to the beginning. I was invited to attend a Writer’s Workshop in Sardinia by my friend, Tim Tomlinson of the New York Writers Workshop with which I have been associated for the past 15 odd years. They hold summer writing workshops in various parts of the world and since this year happened to be in Sardinia (a place to which I have never been), I decided to tag along. Hence, I am here.

But, my journey here began late on Wednesday, August 12, 2026, when at 9.30 pm, I took an Uber to leave my flat in Bombay and hot footed it to the international airport where I arrived at 10.10 pm. My Air France flight to Sardinia (via Paris) was scheduled to leave at 1.20 am (on August 13). I cleared Check in (I did check-in my one cabin-sized bag as I did not want to lug it around Paris Charles de Gaulle airport where I had plans to duty free-shop and get a hot chocolate at ‘Laduree’ and an almond croissant at ‘Paul’—ha! Fat chance—but more about that later)! I made my way (after clearing Security and Immigration—all quite painless in Bombay) to my gate (the furthest gate you can imagine—rotten luck!—with my back pack which contained my laptop, my chargers and a few other miscellaneous stuff which made it too heavy for my liking). While at the gate, I read a couple of writing samples submitted by the workshop participants (as I had not had enough time to complete doing this in Bombay).

The flight was comfortable enough—I had a Maharashtrian lady named Monica Pandey from Pune who lives in Raleigh, North Carolina, besides me. She was a chatty techno nerd who does digital financial marketing for a living—she is with FinTech. She was quite charming company throughout although she did manage to sleep a lot (much to my envy). I had a small bottle of white wine and what they called a light snack for dinner (at 3.00 am IST)—it was two veg sandwiches, plain yogurt and chopped fresh fruit (despite a full diner before leaving home, I was hungry). I watched one full movie (Wuthering Heights—the new Emerald Fennel film with Margot Robbie, Jacob Elordi and Martin Clunes). It was very powerful and deeply moving and I loved Fennel’s interpretation of the story which she changed considerably. A Pakistani-British actor (Shafaq Latif) played Lindley Earnshaw, an Oriental woman played Nellie. Definite attempts in the UK to bring ethnicity into the stage and screen are evident. I also began watching 500 Miles with Bill Nighy but I did not finish it. Hopefully, I will be able to finish it on the way back. It’s a quest by two little guys to try to find their grandfather in Ireland on a 500 miles stowaway journey they undertake from Manchester. We did have a full hot breakfast on board (omletee with hash browns, tomato and grilled mushrooms), yogurt, fruit, a bread roll with butter and jam, orange juice and coffee. There was also a bar at both ends of the aircraft where you could help yourself to fruit, cookies, chocolate, cake and a range of beverages. I managed to get up from my seat (as I did not sleep much at all) for a half hour to stretch my legs while sipping a decaff coffee and nibbling tomato-flavored cookies.

We did not fly over Paris upon landing but after we did, the fun began! I had two whole hours to board my connecting flight from Paris to Cagliari, Sardinia. I did not dawdle at the airport but as soon as I got off my flight, I went straight to the Departures board and found that my Gate for my connecting flight was announced—2G. I believe we had landed at 2E (where most long-distance international flights land). And so began my quest to get to 2G! And boy oh boy—what a quest it was! My checked-in bag would go right through to Cagliari, so I was left to struggle with my heavy backpack! We had to walk through long, endless corridors (quite like Bombay international airport) before we arrived in a large Immigration Hall. But following the directions to Correspondances (Transfers), I realized that we were required to by-pass this Hall and move on. And the moving on just never ended!

First of all, we had to board a monorail train that took about 10 minutes to get us to K Portal where 2G passengers were asked to alight. I thought we were doing fine and had already reached our terminal. But no! There were still miles to go… Not too long after, we were in a Border Control line where our passports were examined and stamped (this took time) and then whisked off to a Security area—this was just interminable with hundreds of people converging here and security so tight that you were not allowed to have any water on you or anything of a gel or creamy consistency. This led to many folk leaving the line to throw out their water or get rid of their soft drink boxes or their yogurt (acquired on the aircraft). There was a table where these were deposited and there was one full-time employee merely to put these into huge garbage bags and haul them off in a small van! I was aghast! Anyway, having cleared these two time-consuming hurdles, we were in a huge Mall-like place where you could have shopped to your heart’s content for every conceivable perfume. Yes, ‘Laduree’ was there but I was perplexed because I could only see signs for F terminal. Where had G terminal disappeared to? Finally, resisting the urge to even look at the enticing wares, I asked an Air France hostess passing by where G was and she directed me to a hidden escalator and told me to go down and find a shuttle bus service that would take me to G.

thinking I had adequate time to do this, I followed her instructions, arrived at a smaller hall downstairs where someone was barking out “2G, 2G” and stuffing people into a shuttle bus. I had only standing room there but just when it seemed as if the bus would move, we were all told to get off. Apparently, another bus would arrive in 2 minutes to get us there. Even at this point, I was at ease. How long could it take, right? Well, the 2 minutes stretched to about 10 minutes and 15 minutes later, we were off again in another bus.

And it was in this bus that my panic began. What I assumed would be a 2 minute ride to our terminal turned out to be a See-Paris Route that seemed to encircle the entire Peripherique! It took us no less than 20 minutes (maybe more—I was too panicked to count) and while everyone in the bus was either laughing, fuming or anxiety-ridden at the sheer idiocy of it, we kept zig-zagging our way through every terminal. By this point in time, it was 8.45am and my flight left at 9.25. I knew they closed aircraft doors at 9.00—so I had only 15 minutes to get to my gate. Luckily the Air France ground hostess had told me my gate (G33) so I did not need to waste time (after the bus stopped and I alighted to go up another escalator to another small hall) to find it. Getting there, involved walking along another long and endless corridor to get to G33. People were running, by this time, like wild horses fully convinced that they had missed their flights (as I did too).

And when I did get to the gate, guess what? There was no one there—not even the staff that checks documents. That’s it, I thought, I have missed my flight! I was totally in a tizzy! At the next gate, there were some personnel and so I asked what had happened to the G33 flight. She took a look at her computer and told me that my flight had been delayed!!!! Can you even believe it? She said it was now scheduled to leave at 10.00 am and that the gate would be announced at 9.30am. She advised me to walk back down that long and endless overbridge and get to the main hall where the Departure boards were located! I was wilting, by this time, and filled with confusing emotions: anger at the delay, but relief that I had not missed my flight.

Just as I reached the end of that long walk down the overbridge, who should I see coming along in a wheel-chair but my colleague Ifeona, arriving from NYU-New York, to also participate in the Writers Workshop! We had an affectionate reunion and I gave her the news that our flight was delayed (although the Departure board still said, On Time)!

Well, being back in the Hall gave me the opportunity to ask the Air France desk personnel about my flight—they confirmed the delay. It gave me the chance also to use the loo (I was dying to go) and to look for Cote d’Or chocolate (sadly, they did not have the dark type) and then, suddenly, boarding for my flight was announced again!!! So, it did not leave at 10.00 am but maybe just 15 minutes after the schedule time—so, at 9.45 am. I mean how crazy can it get?!

course, I raced off to the long overbridge and began the endless walk along it, got to my gate, found folks checking our documents there and we did the short walk on the tarmac up the flight of stairs into the aircraft—it all bordered on the primitive! Imagine a crowded, busy international airport putting its passengers through such agony! Later, on board, Ifeona told me that she had requested a wheel-chair only because she had done some research on the internet and had discovered that it took a minimum of 2 hours to change from Terminal 2E to Terminal 2G! She requested the wheel-chair to bypass the lines at Security and Immigration (as there are special lines for the handicapped at these points)! Oh well, at least we made our flight, were together, and chatted and caught up with everything while we were on the 2 hour connecting flight.

The best part of having the window seat is that I use my camera to take pictures of the passing sights. And this morning, after all the stress of boarding this flight, there was the sheer joy of flying right above the city of Paris from which I managed (although we were really very high up, by that point) to get some amazing views of the city. I actually captured the Eiffel Tower, the Arch of La Defence, the Arc de Triomphe and the Place d’Etoile, as well as the Champs Elysses and the Trocadero. And I very clearly saw (although I did not get a picture), the Ile de St. Louis. Although I just kept clicking, not really knowing what I would capture, I was thrilled later, to discover that I managed to get so many landmarks. If only we were lower when we flew over Paris.

Arrival in Cagliari—More Disappointment:

We saw the outlines of Sardinia for a long while before we landed as we flew right through the backbone of the long island. I could see the incredibly blue Mediterranean Sea below us and it was gorgeous because hugging the pink sand beaches are turquoise waters and just beyond them, the sea is cobalt blue—a definite line of demarcation is visible—no merging of the two distinct colors. The shores were also studded with small white boats. It was all so picturesque and pretty. Then, landing into Cagliari, we had a chance to see the beautiful little capital city—in shades of orche and soft pink.

Once at the airport, Ifeona and I made our way to the Baggage Claim area only to pass by a sign that said, ‘Welcome to Sardinia’ and, of course, I had to take a picture there! Then, waiting and waiting at Baggage Claim with everyone else disappearing quickly, a ground hostess asked us where we had come from—when she discovered that there were many passengers who had boarded their flights in the US or elsewhere, she told the lot of us to follow her! We had to go to another area—we had to clear Immigration (of course)! So, of course, we stood in a Passport Check line and having cleared that, we were moved to another conveyor belt. There I had another shock! Everyone else found their bags but there was no sign of mine! The ground hostess told me that they had stopped depositing them—so I’d have to go and file a claim for a Missing Bag! You could have knocked me down with a feather!

So, yes, I did go through that formality. I was informed that my bag would get to me at the earliest and that it usually took 2 days! Two days! I had nothing but the clothes on my back! Good thing I had my laptop—the heaviest thing in my backpack! So, yes, while I was going through this little dance, Ifeona had herself a lovely Italian coffee (and told me that she finally felt as if she had arrived in Italy). There was no hot chocolate for me anywhere in the airport (although I did get a chicken sandwich at McDee’s as I was hungry for lunch by this point—it was about 12 noon). We had been told that we’d have to wait for our free shuttle taxi service to get us at 1.45 pm—so we had about two hours to wait and wait we did. Apparently, two other passengers, also headed to our Workshop, were supposed to join us. But we saw no sign of anyone else as we sat and chatted and waited and Ifeona began to wilt too.

Sign of A Taxi-Shuttle—so Off We Go On the Train!

And at 1.45pm as instructed, we stood at the Arrivals area waiting for our shuttle! But, long story short, there was no sign of Andrea who was supposed to pick us up. We were lucky we had airport wifi, so we managed to contact the driver. He told us that he had no knowledge of any pick up from the Elmas Airport at Cagliari at 1.45 pm and that he would arrive there at 3.30 pm to take us to Oristano! Ifeona and I decided to take the train to Oristano instead as our friends at the Workshop had given us clear instructions on how to get to the train station. I must also say, at this point, that when we left the airport and walked out into the world, it was hot, hot, hot. Blazing Hot!!! The sun was simply merciless and the air was dry as a crust!

The walk to the train station began. We informed our friends in Oristano that we’d be taking the train. We cancelled the shuttle with Andrea who sent us a thumbs up to confirm that he knew he would not be needed! The sun (as I mentioned) was hot, Ifeona had three bags—one heavy huge one, one a smaller cabin-size one and a backpack! She struggled to get them through to the long ramps up to the train platform as we had used the machines to buy tickets—they did not take my credit card (only cash). So Ifeona paid for me and I reimbursed her later!

And then we were up another ramp to the platform (Binario 2) where we had at least another hour’s wait for our train to Oristano. And that’s when a young girl sitting besides us asked if she could help us as she realized how confused and tired we were! Turned out, we did not have to wait for an hour—a train to Oristano was due in about 20 minutes! Hallelujah! So, yes, we did get that train and while on it, contacted Tim to find out if Andrea could await us at Oristano train station in an hour! Well, that’s when we discovered that Lorenzo was waiting for us at the airport!!!! We were told to go back to the airport and jump into his taxi! Of course, we were doing no such thing as our train to Oristano was already rolling along! Such an ordeal! In the train (we had 3 stops), Ifeona dozed away as she simply could not keep her eyes open. I was bright as a button (as it was the middle of the day in India and I was far from sleepy).

Well, we finally did get to Oristano, an hour later, and then again there was no sign of Andrea. Outside, the building, far beyond the car park, a man was waiting and talking on a phone. I began to suspect, he was Andrea. So I left Ifeona with her three bags and went up to ask him if he was Andrea! And he was! And a few minutes later, we were in his taxi and he did not even give us a hand with our bags!!!! What a jerk! Then, he took ten minutes to find out where we were going after each of us had shown him the address of our hotel three times! It really was horrific! Anyway, we were soon on our way and about ten minutes later, he deposited me at my hotel (Mistral 2) and took Ifeona forward to her’s (La Terrazza)! And with that, I checked in, was given basic toiletries by the front desk and made my way to my room—which was Okay (comfortable bed, soft pillows, clean bathroom and shower—what more could one want)? The hotel gave me a kettle—so I was able to heat water (although there was no coffee machine)! So annoying! Anyway, I just slide under the covers expecting to take a short nap and setting my alarm to wake up after two hours. We had an Introductory session followed by a Reception and I did not want to miss it. So, off to sleep I went!

Only I barely slept for half an hour (the equivalent of my afternoon nap) before I awoke, wide awake. I had enough time to have a shower and wear the same clothes and following Tim’s instructions, I was on the road, trying to find my way to the Delada Instituto.

Getting to the Delada Instituto and Our First Introductions:

About fifteen minutes later (after I made a detour into the huge SPAR—supermarket—en route and caught sight of a pharmacy (I was beginning to feel the beginnings of a cold), I found my way to my destination along Via Cagliari. There I had a reunion with Tim, my NYU—NY colleague, and Ravi Shankar, who is one of our workshop coordinators and whom I know well. From that point on, we met many of the other participants and began to feel our way around them. Emma Sweeney, my colleague and friend from NYU-London also appeared and we had a lovely reunion too. Ifeona got there about fifteen minutes later. The co-ordinators (Tim, Ravi and Emma) introduced themselves, as did Ciriaco who was our host for the week and Alberto, his right-hand man. And then each of us introduced ourselves and we had a most marvelous evening after we had broken the ice.

The Gathering, hosted by the Instituto, was a lovely wine and Processo party with cheese and cold cuts galore—as only the Italians can served them (paper thin and bursting with flavor). There was also curacao (the famous paper thin, wafer-like bread) that is a culinary specialty in Sardinia. Lots of hearty sour dough bread and other crispbreads of all kinds plus Prosecco, beer and juices made it a very wonderful meal. We were joined by other Instituto personnel and as we also chatted with each other, we learned a lot about our backgrounds—varied--our ages—from grad students to retired professionals-turned-writers, etc. It was a very jolly bunch on this first evening and we had a grand time!

At about 9.00 pm, with darkness having fallen outside, I went up to Emma (who was in my hotel) and told her that I was ready to call it a day as I too had begun to wilt. We both said our goodbyes, excused ourselves and left. The ten minute walk back allowed us also to catch up on our lives (Emma now lives in North Wales, near Chester) and what we are currently both doing. Then, we were close to the pharmacy and I stopped to buy some medication for my scratchy throat and the feeling that I had a cold coming on. The pharmacist took forever to cater to the needs of the person ahead of me (the longest I have ever seen anyone take at a pharmacy) but then it was my turn and after I had shown her my needs (through Google Translate on my phone—thank God for my international Roaming package from Airtel), she prescribed an Over-The-Counter medication containing paracetamol for me and with that, we walked back.

Back in the hotel, I used my kettle to make the water warm and then had a doze. It helped me sleep quite well. And with that, a most harrowing day came to an end.

Until tomorrow…ciao!

Return Flight from Trivandrum to Bombay:

Monday, July 27, 2026

Return Flight from Trivandrum to Bombay:

Our flight from Trivandrum on Air-India was scheduled for 9.30 am. We planned to be at the airport at 7.30 am as we were checking in our bags. With enough time to kill, we were able to buy a few gifts for my Dad (Kerala’s famous black halwa) and for my brother Russel (a box of milk pedas) before we went in search of a cup of filter coffee as we were expected to be served breakfast on board.

Time passed quickly and boarding was soon announced. We had a very smooth flight and very good service on board and a substantial breakfast of an omlette with a chicken sausage, grilled tomatoes and fries and a coffee. While everything was piping hot, nothing was really tasty…but I suppose it filled us up for the rest of our flight. I really did enjoy my window seat which gave me an uninhibited view throughout of the West coast of India—I realized how much of it is actually covered by sandy beaches, not many of which are even remotely developed.

We touched down on schedule at 9.30 am, arriving at the international airport from where we took an Uber car to get us back to our flat. We were home by 11.45 am and boy, how good it felt to enter our own home again.

Thanks for following me on this trip through Kerala—a rather strange combination of spiritualism and tourism; but one that was interesting in both parts. Until I blog again, about my next trip, may the road rise up to meet you…