The Italian island of Sardinia (Sardegna) brought out the adventurer in us. Our first stop was Sassari, a city of about 120,000 inhabitants with a rich history dating back to the early Middle Ages. A university city, home to the University of Sassari with about 18,000 students that opened its doors in May 1562.
Our host, Gianluca, a treasure of Sardinian tradition, put us up at the Hotel Vitorio Emanuele in the center of the old city. As we walked through the meticulously persevered downtown area, we encountered cobblestone paths, old buildings, and streets so narrow we could touch the walls on either side at the same time (locals, however, drive cars, trucks, and scooters with side mirrors tucked in). The dialect of the people around us, especially the children, sounded beautiful, like music.
Sassari may seem so foreign to modern New World eyes, but we soon discovered that behind the ancient appearance lay 21st century comforts. At our hotel, we found motion sensor lighting, video security, wireless access, and a staff that spoke an incredible repertoire of languages, moving seamlessly from guest to guest. Only a passing glance, or in Veronica’s case, an intentional peek, at the open doors of the houses revealed all the newer gadgets. State-of-the-art kitchens with gleaming compact appliances, LCD screens on widescreen TVs and computers, and furnishings to die for.
During dinner the first night, the conversation turned to local food and customs. Gianluca mentioned that horse and donkey were the “national foods” of Sardinia and that people who are not from the island might find them difficult to eat. It wasn’t intended as a challenge, but for us, the gauntlet had fallen. Since David had tried the horse on a previous visit to Italy, it was obvious that we should eat the donkey.
The next day we became aware of an intriguing little local place called Trattoria da Peppina in a small square near our hotel. Turns out assenello (little donkey) was one of the less adventurous menu items. Spinal cord, small lamb heads, three types of snails, various entrails and goat’s feet were available, as well as various things we couldn’t decipher even with our fairly comprehensive dictionary. This was it: we had found our place. The obvious jokes preceded our meal: “That’s a nice butt”, “There’s nothing like a nice piece of butt”, “How would you like to bite my…? Well, you get the idea.
We were hoping that a good sauce would coat our butt, but while we were enjoying our “first course” of pasta, we heard the distinct sound of meat on the grill. Sure enough, the donkey was served straight up, just on a plate, roasted to perfection. They even went so far, maybe by accident, maybe not, to serve him in a form that could look like a toilet seat or a human butt.
Lemon and salt were added as we mustered our courage. He sliced the steak, rather hesitantly, and sniffed and inspected the first bite. Smelled good, looked good… Here we go. It’s good! No, really, it’s good. Hoping to try just a bite or two, we ate every bite. Is very good. So now, best of all, at dinner we can honestly say, “No thanks, I had ass for lunch.”
After lunch, it was time to explore more. Sassari sleeps during this part of the day, so it seemed like we had the whole place to ourselves, but we found the Museo Nazionale Sanna open. The museum has very convenient hours and houses some of the earliest Stone Age and Neolithic finds on the island. Phoenician and Carthaginian objects such as pottery and gold jewelry, Roman finds with statues, some coins, bronze belt buckles and a cache of heavy Roman ship anchors that pay homage to Sardinia’s seafaring history share the space with the art collection of Giovanni Sanna, whose family built the museum.
Next we visit the famous fountain, Fontana di Rosello, built in 1606, which first supplied the aqueduct of the nearby seaport of Porto Torres. Later, the citizens of Sassari hauled the water in buckets by hand and by donkey, presumably before dinner.
At one point during our walk we passed a souvenir shop with T-shirts that said “No Mirto, No Party.” Intrigued, we went inside to ask the owner about Mirto. With little language in common, we learned through hand signals and interpretive dances that Mirto is a traditional Sardinian liquor that tastes harmless, but in half an hour all hell breaks loose. Immediately after returning to the hotel, we began our investigation. Myrtle, we find, comes in two varieties, red and white, and is made from the myrtle plant: the red (rossa) is made from the berries, the white (bianca) from the leaves. Nothing about hallucinations. Since we weren’t sure who to trust, Wikipedia or the guy in the souvenir shop (could he have been exaggerating just to sell us a t-shirt?), we felt a more personal investigation should be done.
We headed to Piazza Italia, home to the only clock in Sassari that kept the correct time. He resides in the building of the provincial capital, the Provincia di Sassari. After dark, Sassari really comes to life. The square was full of outdoor cafes, families strolling, teenagers smooching and, as always, old men sitting on benches, watching.
Sitting at an outdoor table, we decided to start with the Mirto Rossa. Very sweet, 32 percent alcohol, with a herbal aftertaste. We enjoyed a few people watching, hanging out, hoping the effects of the drink wouldn’t be too harsh. Still consistent, we decided to share a Mirto Bianca. The herbal flavor of the Bianca is more apparent as the sweetness of the berries has been removed. Again we wait for the hallucinations. Any.
Our study concluded that while Mirto will warm your spirits, it’s probably best not to expect a mind-expanding experience, but it may make you want to exclaim the local howl of “Aiooo!”