Today first ride in company! On an almost summery day, along the few kilometers that separate Orani from Sarule, I was escorted by three riders from the Il Pedale Oranese group, Gianni, Francesco Modolo who I met yesterday, and Gigi who’s from Bosa but married in Sarule. The change and the wonderful day recharged me with energy.
In Sarule the main element is granite. Houses, streets, countryside around. And then here too murals. People from the village, some still alive, ‘they are identical!’ they tell me. But the main character here is Badore (Salvatore) Sini, author of the lyrics of ‘No Potho Reposare’, one of the most famous Sardinian love songs.
Lunch with the extended family of the former mayor (at this moment there is a commissioner). For dessert we eat the ‘real’ pabassina that looks a bit like Tuscan cantucci but much softer and tastier.
Digestive walk in the Sarulese countryside. We visit the tomb of the giants S’Altare de Sa Lodula, made of large granite slabs. And not far away, they walk me to see a thousand-year-old olive tree, they tell me it could have over two thousand years, so slightly younger than the giants’ grave. Its trunk has a huge circumference, more than 15 meters.
Today is the day of the deads. Sarule in the evening is deserted. I just have to do work. And then dinner at Gigi’s house. When I come back I’m tired, but ‘No Potho Reposare’ (I cannot rest), I still have work to do.
SARDINIAN SHORT STORIES
Rosaria is an old lady, dressed in black. He tells me of when she was a child and Badore Sini went to their home to get some products of the land (Rosaria’s father was a farmer). Going away from Rosaria’s house, he said to her: ‘My advice, study, always’. He was a man of culture. It was said that at the time No Potho Reposare had already been written but that Badore Sini did not want it to be made public. But some people who had heard it and knew it said ‘one day this song will see the light and then even the stones will sing it’.
At dinner I tell my day before in Orani. And I ask a few questions to feel the counterpart with respect to the good-natured provocations of the Oranesi (conscious of arousing an old rivalry):
– In short, to whom Monte Gonare belongs? … because yesterday in Orani they told me that …
– It’s ours because the road that leads there is ours!
– They’re not very happy with the fence you built on top …
– We did it to prevent the Orani sheep from going in our part, we could not walk!
– And the church benches, whose are they?
– Those on the left are ours, theirs on the right.
– But then the altar?
– Orani has only one stone of the altar!
– They advised me to drink only wine in Sarule, because the water …
– Ah yes the usual story, in Orani instead you become stupid just breathing!
The pungent and affectionate sarcasm of the neighbors. I’m sure if there had been some Oranesi here, they would have gone on for a while, between a glass of wine and a laugh.