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!
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