I should simply not be allowed to drive in Italy. I am a danger to my fellow Italians. My solo adventures typically have me flying down autostradas trying to navigate maps, directions, a cell phone and manual transmissions all while trying unsuccessfully to stay out of the way of the wild eyed Italians who believe they are all Formula One race car drivers. (Remind me to tell you about my little accidental tour of Palermo some day.)  My arrival in Sardinia was no exception. 

Continue reading Northeastern Sardinia: Sea, sky and sheep at Our Italian Table.