Whilst meandering the villages, we had seen some characteristic woven baskets that had caught our eye.
However, the following day due to light rain, there were no baskets in sight, bar one that had a few very artisan ware. The finishing was not that great, but the hand made effect had its appeal and I thought it might be good to place some of my plant pots. As we were evaluating whether we should buy one, an old man wearing a red jumper and a distorted left hand came out.
“I recall seeing more baskets yesterday, do you have anymore?” And with that Giovanni smiled and invited us into his home. Having got over the fact that it could be another mass murderer, and accepting that maybe Sardinians were friendly, we followed him in.
The terraced house opened up to a back courtyard and a garage where there was an array of woven ware on display. It was amazing the way he had opened up his house to us and showed us the way he operated.
Needless to say, we purchased a basket to repay him for his kindness. Touched by our response, he offered us the regional drink, mirto. Assuming it was a fruitbased drink, I accepted, and basically it would have been an offense not to accept. Just immagine it could have been drugged. Not far from it, I might add. Mirto is a plant from which the liquor is made. It tasted like turpentine. At 11 in the morning, wasn’t the smartest of moves, but I drank up so as not to offend.
Pleased with our purchase, we headed for the car only to realise the street was paved with baskets, place mats and wooden stools. It seemed that this sleepy village had suddenly woken up. We soon discovered that word had got out some tourists were in town and buying!
