The reward for a 5am was the morning sun spreading gold across the mossy peaks around Cagliari. The expansive view of unspoiled coastline as we came into land – all gleaming white sand and neon-turquoise bays – was nothing short of a postcard: we wished we were there, and we soon would be. Mentally, I picked out a dream spot on the shores.
For years, I’d heard mixed reviews of . “If you want to pay €30 for an average bowl of spaghetti with a view of the mega-yachts, go ahead,” friends had warned with a raised eyebrow. It took me a while to realise they were talking, mainly, about the north of the island, where glitzy ports line the rarefied coastline, and the ultra-wealthy flock to huge coastal resorts.
But here, on a bright summer morning, with my plane window full of mountains and piercing aquamarine shallows, I was confident we’d got it right. Italy’s flash side has had quite the year following the post-pandemic travel rush, then season two, which aired in late 2022. Set on neighbouring , the show turned the heads of affluent travellers to ’s plunging clifftop , spicy islands, Med yacht trips and ornate villas.
It was this Versace-clad picture of Italian travel that I was looking to escape as I arrived in Sardinia’s southernmost city, Cagliari, bound for the rather more barefoot seaside village of Chia. My partner, Giles, and I had booked to spend the first night in Cagliari, forever suckers for a fourth or fifth-tier Italian city (and I’d recommend it, given the city is 15 minutes’ drive from the airport and you’ll still be getting your head around the hire car). We swung into the port, a tiered cluster of shabby-chic buildings painted rusty red, peach and mustard yellow, tumbling down to sandy Poetto beach.
Directly behind our hotel in the port were tempting, slender alleys packed with restaurant terraces, squares of small aperitivo bars, and a confetti of purple blossoms from the towering jacaranda trees. So far, so . It was quite a hike up to the imposing St Remy Bastion, past which we paused for a spritz and a mortadella focaccia on the city walls at .
Higher still was Cagliari’s Roman amphitheatre, built in the second century AD and once host to gladiatorial spectacles and public executions. Nearby, monks and nuns strolled around convent doors. To me the city was evocative of Athens: no pretentiousness; trendy and graffitied down in the folds of its skirts but with regal, ancient treasures to stumble upon as you climbed.
The next morning, it was less than an hour’s drive to Chia along smooth, well-marked roads, with only a dozen or so impatient Italians zooming past us in the opposite lane. Leaving Cagliari’s industrial zone, criss-crossing highways became welly-green hills topped with golden rock stacks, and signs for ferry ports switched to signs for leaping antelope. Chia is a small coastal town with only a handful of accommodations and no flash beach clubs.
Instead, you come for peace, nature and daily sea swims. Beyond the coast road is a protected swathe of sand dunes, coastal vegetation and glimmering lagoons where the only bathers are dozens of shell-pink flamingos. After checking in at the Conrad hotel, we strolled 15 minutes to the nearest sandy scoop, Spiaggia Monte Cogoni, before the day’s beachgoers arrived: completely undeveloped with just a few rows of loungers, it was a sweep of pale champagne sand with craggy headlands on either side, one topped by a crumbling tower.
The soporific Conrad almost prohibited exploring, whispering to us to lounge by the hushed, water-trickling pool, with its sea view and colourful floral overhang. Two mellow restaurants were soothing for long evenings on the terrace. The indoor-outdoor thermal spa took us from healing saunas to bubbling whirlpools and icy outdoor plunges, all to the sound of birdsong as Chia’s migratory swallows swooped down to splash in the spa waters.
Our adventures were saved by its golf-buggy shuttles to the two loveliest nearby beaches, Monte Cogoni and La Campana Dune. “This area of Sardinia is known for the colour of the sea,” our hotel porter had told us, his half-smile only hinting at the surreal shades of turquoise and glassy shallows we would find. The sand here is also something to behold: a rippling canvas of off-white powder, satisfying to dig your toes into.
Bitten by the beach bug, we set off early to find Tuerredda, a renowned beauty spot. Some entrepreneurial local had set up a payment kiosk, handmade signs and impromptu parking bays in his beachside field (€6 for the day). How did we spend our days? Emphatically offline.
Swimming in refreshingly cool waters, reading, drinking the local Ichnusa beer, snoozing under parasols, debating how early was too early for a spritz. You won’t need designer outfits or your most resilient credit card in Chia: this is the simple life, Sardinia-style. In the evenings, we ventured into the pair of small tourist towns within a 20-minute drive: Chia, which had no high street to speak of, but excellent (the local tiny spheres of pasta) with fat, saucy clams at , not to mention the fish counter of your wildest dreams; and Pula, a charming low-rise beach town with fluttering bunting and fairy lights around the small church.
We gorged on pasta and tuna steaks under the town square trees at Solaria, then strolled the warm streets with gelato from Sottozero. Everything seemed to wind down by midnight, but then again, so did we. Sardinia is blessed with high-definition beaches from top to bottom, but for a smooth, no-drama, all-indulgence week, it’s the south that really sings.
There’s nothing here for celebrities or paparazzi, no “it” hotels, no bottle-service beach cabanas, and that’s the beauty of it. Locals caught our eye and nodded knowingly, happy to let us – just a few – in on the secret. has doubles from £224.
flies from to Cagliari from £36.99, one way..
