Sardinia

Our urban mosaic stretches out beyond Cagliari, as my students tell me about their wider lifeworlds, spaces and places that are meaningful to them. The Sardinia of the inside, made up of villages, memories and people making home in the dry but fertile lands. Federica speaks of Maracalagonis and village life, with culinary skills passed down the generations, connecting people to the land and to each other.

These traditions and objects live on beyond public spaces, in memories and photo albums that become starting places for sharing tales. Alessia’s grandmother gives meaning and life to the small things that are assembled to celebrate shared festivals and rituals, as small objects, food, ribbons and sweets are assembled and shared. Our places of memory are also made up of details and glances to which we can return, like stepping stones for sharing stories.

Alessandra reminds us that such objects are made by careful hands, using skills learnt and passed on through time, rooted in place. Clothes are more than shells to cover our bodies: they are objects shaped by memory, knowledge and care, stitching places together.

Serena’s world is equally enchanted, connecting past and present not only through objects but rather through sound, people and music. She reminds us that places are shaped by memories that speak to all our senses.

Some past lifeworlds are built from the memory of suffering or martyrdom, lives remembered and celebrated in place through ceremony. Veronica connects lights, colours, sounds, tastes and smells to conjure up a poly-sensorial landscape of memory. A place remade through festivals, as each generation soaks up and enjoys building community in place.

Claudia shares a tale rooted in Nuoro, connecting the threads of the past and present in a place built up by generations of careful people, but also constantly undergoing change. Sharing the stories of place in a visually rich collage of pertinent colours, she reminds us that beyond the shared memories, some places also become destinations in their own right for others, gaining meaning for passing visitors as well as grounding life and belonging for their inhabitants.

Further into the landscape, Sofia speaks to us of Burgei, at the end of a twisty road, and the meaning of home shaped not by sound but by the softness of fur and harshness of rocks. A landscape made up of memories, ancient buildings that haunt the living and practices of care that remain.

Ilaria’s world starts out equally filled with animals, non-human companions also making homes in the interior. But elsewhere beckons for some, for not everyone wants to build a life with furry companions in the countryside.

Alessandra reminds us that urban life takes place across the island, and not only in the main city of Cagliari. Her world may seem close on a map, but moving across the landscape and connecting cities isn’t always straightforward. But home is also build from connections with others close by, with time spent with companion animals and good food.

Sometimes the places we return too seem built on void, on absence, on little. Paolo tells us of Samatzai, a place in which to gather to speak about nothing much and yet, by sharing stories of it, the emptiness is filled with meaning. Often there seems to be little on the outside, but people build something together that creates a place on which to anchor lives and experiences.

Outsiders need help in learning and making sense of new places. Chiara reminds us that some people are tasked with this, becoming guides to places, learning to speak and share the tales of places with others. From ancient rocks to modern connections, sharing geographical knowledge and making places come alive to visitors is a skill that relies not just on speech, but on bodies that get out of bed, dress and perform this role of ambassador to others.

Jacopo reminds us that being a guide and facilitating the encounter between place and outsider isn’t always straightforward, but relies on building up a personal knowledge of place before sharing this with others. Experiencing disorientation is also a first step towards building meaning that can be shared, and sometimes technology is not enough. Places also need to be encountered in the flesh.