My Heart in Quartu Sant’Elena

When you come from a place like Quartu Sant’Elena on the alluring island of Sardinia, you can’t just fit in anywhere. There are days when you think you might have made a home somewhere else only to have the town’s soul reach out to you and softly whisper in your ear that it’s time to return to where you belong.

Quartu is like an old matriarch in her traditional clothes. Her jewels are the churches that rise above the town’s squares. Her veil is the nine-kilometer-long beach locals call Poetto. The lives of so many revolve around this piece of seashore from sunrise to sunset, from January to December. 

When Quartu speaks, you hear the old Sardinian chants that vibrate in the air during summer festivals and country fairs. You hear ladies exchanging greetings – “buongiorno signora!” – from opposite sides of the street as they amble through town shopping for fresh fruit and vegetables from local Apecars. When Quartu speaks, you can’t help but hear the gentle crashing of waves and the howling of the northwest wind that everybody curses — maledetto Maestrale

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Quartu’s eyes are tinted flamingo pink. During the day, you can see flamingos standing balanced on one of their long, thin legs with their beaks in the wet sand in search of shrimp: the food that helps give their feathers a beautiful pink pigment. At night, they fly from one side of Poetto to the other, breaking the dark blue starred sky with their geometric configurations and perfectly symmetric lines. 

Quartu’s skin smells like malloreddus with tomato sauce and sausage, homemade moddizzosu and almond and lemon pastries. With centuries of experience, its hands have mastered the art of crafting Corbula baskets and filigree rings. Its mouth speaks a language young people like me will soon forget forever.

When you come from a place like Quartu you wake up in the morning knowing the sun will shine because it’s summer all year. You walk the streets expecting you’ll meet at least five people you know because the town is small, and everyone knows everyone. You enter local shops where the clerks greet you by name and treat you like family. They have what you need prepared because you‘ve ordered the same loaf of bread or the same cut of meat for years, and so has your mother, and so has your grandmother. You stop to say hi to the older people who sit outside their houses waiting for something to happen or just a kind soul to chat with. You look up at the sky and find yourself surprised to see colourful triangular flags decorating the balconies of the Campidanese houses as if the entire town is celebrating the same birthday, because it’s soon St. John the Baptist Day and Quartu needs to doll up for it. 

When you come from a place like Quartu, at some point in your life you will probably feel the need to see what’s on the other side of the sea and experience the grandeur of bigger realities. Though, once away, and no matter where you’ve landed, you’ll rediscover yourself and question the ambitions of your dreams. One day, you may wake up realizing that happiness and beauty lie where the smallest, most genuine things are.


TEXT BY MARTINA BOI

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Art in the Lowcountry With Sarah Schools

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To Autumn