Sardinia

 Back to the wacky C d V hotel where the Ws have been coming every year since 1980. June is a quiet month here-so lots of Germans and not as many B list celebrities. Amazingly, almost nothing changes-the waiters, the guests, everything is the same.
This picture was taken after dinner during our usual walk. We are already considered total lunatics for the amount of exercise we seem to do....we are the only ones with tennis rackets, or baseball mitts, and certainly there is no one speaking Italian in the little gym.

Anyway, we take a walk after dinner wherever we are, so off we went. We were on this pier in the dark looking at a strangely flat sea (it is really windy here, so it was surreal); almost immediately, some guy with a flashlight comes up and wonders what the hell we are doing...he was polite, but confused. He could understand if we had taken our clothes off, but walking...that is kinky. This place is all about not moving. Famous blueberry..the Crazily tanned American (have not yet seen him) stays here for a full month and does nothing, and i mean nothing, but lie in the sun, eat, then sun, then eat. He makes me crazy....I almost want to ask him how he can stand it...no shopping, no sightseeing, no sailing, no jogging in the heat, nothing.

There is a name for our affliction-the English call it Jolly Hockey Sticks, a person who is always doing something, and with an irritating amount of enthusiasm. And we are even worse due to the Protestant influence.

Occasionally I see a kindred spirit: a person who is antsy for some action...Like the Russian grandfather who organized a swim meet with his huge family. Keep in mind the only other people I have seen in the pool are Wehlens and children. Russian girlfriends don't want to break a nail.
But my  most favorite memory of other restless people cracking under the ennui of suntanning,  was the year before last when the Italian soccer players were here.  Sure enough, after a few hours in the sun, they ran to the kids' tiny soccer field and starting playing in bare feet. Like children. They were playing Russia against Italy, with an Austrian skier thrown in, and I could not take my eyes off of them. Frederick was playing tennis and missed everything, but some of the kids of the people who work here ran in like it was normal. It was all I could do not to run in myself screaming: USA!!!! and if I knew how to kick a soccer ball, I would have.

By the way, below i was in a sequined top and four inch heels and white pants, and that is as casual as one can get here....All the rest of the things i brought are more uncomfortable and show more skin...I am telling you this place is exhausting. One does pine occasionally for a night in short pants.

Frederick has graduated to the single most romantic room i have ever seen for an eleven year old. It is on our floor, but a pretty good distance away from us....and it has the best view in the hotel. When you open the door, there are immediately stairs going up, like a very tiny house. Then his room, which is small, perfect for a child, with a delightful balconey (see his blog for pictures) and an enormous bed and enormous TV.

I told him, as I always do: It is downhill from here lovee. I know Mommy, I know.

On the dock before the security guy came