I think I have sun poisoning, and no I am not on webmd.
Before you laugh off my dubious diagnosis, keep in mind that I spend
approximately nine hours at Poetto beach. Poetto is seven miles of crystalline water,
fine sand, and everybody and their brother George – I mean Fabio.
It’s a tough life I lead.
I walked in over a hundred feet, maybe even a hundred yards
out to sea, and swayed with starfish and the moon snail egg casings, waist-deep
and wonderstruck. I dived down to the ocean floor, burrowing my belly into the
sand. I opened my eyes, and before me lay the gray floor. Its ridges snaked to
my left and right, forming hundreds of tiny Grand Canyons that shifted in the
tides to match the ripples and waves from above.
I quickly run out of air. My untrained lungs ache after ten
seconds of submersion, and I surface with all the Little Mermaid charm I can
summon.
Ariel is to Mermaid as Catarina is to Scuttle the Seagull.
Everywhere I look I spy the drama in the landscape. If the Sardinian
landscape as a play, it would most certainly be the entire collected works of
William Shakespeare. The Devil’s Saddle was the background to my weekend,
present and looming as I wandered the beach looking for starfish and seashells.
It’s hard to believe we’re leaving in a week, it’s even
harder to believe that so much time has passed. The people here are so sweet
and kind, so generous with their laughter and their kindness. I love the
welcoming atmosphere, and I know I’ll miss it when I’m home.
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