8/6 DAY 7: ALGHERO

I'm enjoying the refugee camp with a good sense of humor. I don't plan to spend much time in my hammock, but the restaurant is cheap and there are lots of fellow travelers to talk to. I had a cappuccino this morning coupled with a danish. I'm learning how to roll with the best and worst of these campgrounds. I swam out to the jetty and stood out there on those rocks looking into the cool clear water and back towards the beach. It's a rather perfect beach, with smooth white sand and clear blue water. My rocky perch requires only a short swim.

My refugee camp has become paradise. I guess it's a matter of putting a positive spin on things. I cleaned up my little campsite and tended the little plant on my tent stoop. I cleaned up people's garbage, netting wine glasses and laundry detergent. I rested in my hammock reading in the shade of the pine trees. When I got tired of reading I walked 200 feet to the beach and swam out to the rocks. I'm surrounded by beauty and give myself whatever I want.

My Birkenstocks died this afternoon. I knew they wouldn't make it through the trip. Rather than buy a new pair for the trip and ruin them along the way, I opted to go forth with what I had. That was pretty much my approach with all of my provisions. I'd been riding in my Birkenstocks the entire trip until the other day on my way into Alghero. I switched into my Converse for a more trendy entry. Crammed inside my panniers, the Birkenstocks literally fell apart. I had bought these sandals two years ago from my neighbor Jim Fleming at a sidewalk sale. I retired them here in a brief ceremony in my favorite piazza. They were replaced with a trendy pair of flip flops which should get me through the rest of the trip. I also swapped out my Converse shoelaces for good measure. I purchased a snorkeling mask and took out 500 Euros for the journey south.

The campground offered quite a bit of socializing. I met a Dutch guy named Robert who had cycled the island in nine days. Now I want to do that! I'm not sure if he completely followed the coast, but he said he didn't take any breaks or do any sightseeing. He also rode through the heat of the day to take advantage of the Italian chuisora (siesta) and lack of road traffic.

I settled into my hammock that evening with a beer in one hand and a limoncino in the other. I had one one side of me a group of Italians playing drinking games with bottles of wine lining the table. On the other side of me sat two English girls reading and drinking beer, a queue of empty bottles behind them. I introduced myself to the girls, who it turned out were from London and had just finished art school. We went into Alghero for a wonderful meal and, of course, plenty of beer. The next thing I knew it was 2:30 in the morning.