Time to move again... Transition day. Our favourite...

Actually, it didn't go too badly.

First up, clean the flat, and make sure everything is in the right bin... Recycling has haunted us since we arrived in Italy. It has changed our vocabulary. We talk about "umido" for organic waste; we confidently bandy around terms like "dry residual".

In Sassari, it was easy. You just sort your rubbish, and deposit it whenever you want in the appropriate communal bins. In Cagliari, you have to follow a detailed schedule of waste removal. There's a different day for each category, and specific instructions about what colour bin to put out, whether to use a bin bag, and what kind of bin bag it should be.


If you miss a day, that's tough, because there are no communal bins. The big bins you see around in various places can be opened only by people with the right pass.

It's all in a good cause, and Italy, apparently, is quite successful at recycling. But it is a bit of a headache for newcomers.


Anyway, bins done, bags packed, and we're off.

It's 0930, and the boat to Palermo, on the northwest coast of Sicily, goes at 1700. These rootless hours are usually a problem, but today's transition day was vastly eased by the existence of Baggy Lockers, a self-service left-luggage facility not far from the railway station. Not exactly cheap (EUR 14 for four bags for five hours), but easy to use, and invaluable in allowing us to make unencumbered use of our last bit of time in Sardinia.


We took the bus to Poetto Beach, a long strip of sand that faces the ocean, and backs on to some of Cagliari's salt lagoons. Nice for a walk:





About two thirds of the way along, you can cross the lagoon on a bridge:





Quite a number of eateries were closed today, presumably enjoying the downtime between Christmas and New Year. So we bussed back into town, and had lunch at the railway station. Which sounds a bit strange, but chicken cutlet and chips made a good, filling, and not too expensive meal.

Before redeeming our bags, we sussed out the boarding venue. Panicked slightly when the signs talked about showing boarding cards to security, but a patient official reassured us that when they said "boarding cards", they actually meant "tickets". So that was OK. We have two of those.

We collect our bags, and head on over. It's coming up to 1500, and some people are obviously boarding. We advance, look hopeful, but no -- it's car passengers who are boarding. Bloody car passengers. Always privileged. We, humble foot passengers, are required to sit and wait in this big cage arrangement. Lucky it's not windy, rainy, or cold, because it would be a draughty old holding pen if it were.

By 1530, they're letting us on. But first, there's security. And they confiscate my little picnic knife... Jeez... I don't know if there has been a history of OAPs running amok onboard, armed with tiny Daiso fruit knives, but obviously Grimaldi (unlike Eurostar or Corsica Ferries) think it's a tragedy waiting to happen. Sigh...

Then they bus you to the ferry. Boarding is total chaos, with streams of people heading in confrontational directions, and blocking the way. But finally we're installed in our cabin. Which is fine, and rapidly assumes the degree of untidiness which is the Terns' hallmark:




Cagliari is another place we're sorry to say goodbye to. We've enjoyed buzzing round here, and it was a great choice for Christmas.

And it's also goodbye to Sardinia. We've had thick and thin here -- major schedule changes, nasty colds, scary storms -- but we've loved it even in the teeth of all that. And there's so much we've not done. Maybe there'll be another chance one day...

Tea is the last of the panettone. It was delicious right down to the last crumb.

The boat journey is scheduled to take 12 hours. It's a far cry these days from the one D.H. Lawrence and his wife did in January 1921. They went the opposite way to us, sailing from Palermo, via Trapani, to Cagliari. They have to be rowed out to the steamer; they have to climb up a ladder to get on board; the journey takes 32 hours; and the sea is pretty rough.

Yet Lawrence loves it. Yes, he takes issue with various fellow-passengers and crew members, and gets fed up with things, but this sea voyage seems to bring him closer to contentment than anything else he experiences during his whole trip to Sardinia. He wishes he could sail for ever: "Why come to anchor? There is nothing to anchor for. Land has no answer to the soul any more."

Well, we didn't quite feel like that. But it all went pretty smoothly. The sea was calm; all was quiet overnight; and we slept well. It's annoying that they start tannoying you out of your cabin at 0400, and we hold out as long as possible, but by 0445, we feel we had to quit. The public areas, of course, are crowded, because everyone is now occupying them. But we find ourselves a bit of space, and try to be patient.

We're off by 0530, and it's a slightly longer walk to the Mercure than we anticipated, because the ferry has docked right at the opposite end of the harbour. But it's still only 20 minutes or so, and it's actually quite nice to be moving in the fresh morning air. (The picture at the top shows the pleasure-boat part of the harbour, as we saw it later in the day.)

We're definitely up well before most of Palermo on this Sunday morning, but it's already clear that it's going to be another interesting place to explore.

It's too early to take possession of our room, of course, but the folks on reception are happy to look after our bags, and let us sit comfortably in their lobby until the breakfast buffet starts at 0700. Hotels definitely make transition days easier...


So... This is Island No. 3...