Once In Wanderland

Throwing the hands into the pockets of our jeans and getting nothing out seemed alarming.
“Do you think they let us sleep in some place for a few coins?” we asked our couchsurfing host. He was leaving next day and our Sardinia trip was reaching a dangerous point.
Throwing our hands deeper into our pockets we fished some banknotes.
But we had seen enough of Cagliari. So? We put our rounded sunglasses, some flowers around the neck, we unleashed our hair and found the place to spend our next night like true Hippie leftovers in 2015.
Five girls in a Fiat Panda, loud music to match with our wanderlust and crazy all curving Sardinian roads were not much of a great omen. But who cared?
We named “destination” every picturesque village we were passing by, every curve that could capture the fall of the cloudy sky into the Mediterranean sea, or every place bearing the name Smeralda. We stopped in the ghost seaside town of Bosa di Marina with its Mexican like straw umbrellas for a hot cappuccino- I doubt if you can find that place in a map- and we ate the most delicious gelato in that place across the beach of Alghero. We crossed its colorful houses, the walls protecting the town as if from pirates and we discovered in the city center the ultimate pirate shop full of trunks with caramels. We dived in the blue waters of Stintino as if we owned the almost destroyed sea fortress and we kept on driving up to Palau, our northern point. A lost donkey stopped our crazy course in the middle of our dark road to mark our absurd, but totally adventurous road trip to the Italian wonderland.
Camping? Out of question! But camping outside of an equipped camping? A great idea, when guards are sleeping… We sneaked inside; spotted the toilets, confirmed the hot water in the showers. And then the guard appeared and informed us with his perfect Italian that only the campers could use them. But we had that tent over there- I’ m sure you remember- and we walked like ladies with wet hair and brushed teeth counting the heart beats until we reached that Panda door.
Our flight fixed in a few hours and we were stuck in our northern point.
Holding after six months the remnant of our effort to reach our 295 km away flight, I now know that exceeding speed comes always with a price.
But I also know this. When you are in your 20s, travelling is not about money. I have the sense that penniless wanderers are those who live the richest of experiences and possess the spirit of a true traveler.