The reason I prefer beach holiday on my own and the scandal of the Parmesan cheese.

Stunning view from the hotel.
Stunning view from the hotel.

I am in Sardinia. On my own.

Last time I came here to the same hotel, it was with a friend. It was fun, but recently, I decided I prefer beach holidays on my own. And to be fair, my friends most likely prefer their beach holidays with someone else.

That is not the case of holidays in general. I like people, talking, spending time with them. I have an unusually large circle of friends, in fact, many circles.

So what is it about me and beach holiday that makes me antisocial?

I read, and read, and read. I can happily spend 8 hours barbequing myself in the sun (yes, I KNOW it is not healthy, I am a doctor) and reading. In between, I swim and go to the hotel gym. On my own, listening to my iPod.

I am sociable around dinner, only to turn into a hermit again with my laptop connected to the hotel Wi-Fi.

“I am not going with you anywhere unless there is no Internet connection.” said one of my friends.

She is a wise woman. If I was her, I would not go with me either.

So after dinner, I type emails to the friends that are NOT with me, chat to my workaholic partner in America on Google hangouts, tweet, blog, read the news, especially tennis results. By the time I switch off my computer, any friend that is on holiday with me is fast asleep.

So yep, I have decided I will go on my own.

I can read, sunbathe, swim and spend hours on my laptop without anybody telling me off.


So here I am. Sardinia is very beautiful, the rocks look like some castles or old cities, very rugged. I go to the gym which is a room with open spaces- like a veranda, just roof and large holes in the wall overlooking the sea. It really is stunning. The hotel with the gardens, small beaches and several small swimming pools , it is as nice as I remembered from the time I was here with a friend. Yes, the one who was fast asleep while I was busy at my laptop. It is in a small place, but there are enough nice little restaurants with sea view.

Last time, I created a bit of a stir in one of them. I had pasta with prawns in a lovely open air restaurant overlooking the sea . My friend had pasta with meat. They gave her Parmesan, and I was surprised when the waiter did not offer me any. I thought he forgot, so I asked.

He looked at me with horror!

“Parmigiano? With fish!!!!????? You cannot eat Parmigiano with fish, signora! “

It seems that it was a culinary crime.

“Humour me, I am a foreigner, and I love Parmesan on any pasta. And prawns are not fish anyway!”

With a theatrical sigh that would not be out of place in La Scala, he gave me Parmesan.

But in two days, when we came back to the same restaurant, I had lasagna.

“NOW you can have Parmigiano, signora!” he said. But he said it with a smile.

I bet he was telling his family about a bloody foreign woman who does not know she is not supposed to have Parmesan on fish dishes. Outrageous!

I am tempted to go to the  same restaurant tomorrow, order some pasta with fish and see what happens if I ask for Parmesan. If they do not say anything, maybe they have given up because of me! Living dangerously.

And at east, there won’t be any friend with me to feel embarrassed!


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