I’ve come from the isle of Manhattan, where clocks tick on New York minutes and anxiety hums in the streets. I’ve landed in Sardinia, a Mediterranean island (outsized only by Sicily) where stress feels out of place among the mountains, verdant with maquis, and blue waters that shift in color like an ombré of indigo. Regarding time, everyone seems to have an abundance of it—Sardinian lives are the longest in the world; the island has nearly 10 times more centenarians per capita than the U.S.
I stayed on Costa Smeralda—a stretch of land untouched until the ‘60s when the Aga Khan (the leader of Nizari Muslims) developed the beautiful coastline into a yacht-friendly billionaire’s paradise with some of the world’s most expensive real estate. A perch atop a Costa Smeralda cliff offers Dolce & Gabbana perfume-ad views for miles, but the best vantage point is actually enjoyed by boat. From here, you can take in the “Emerald Coast” in all its glory—12 miles of rocky shorelines that drop off to secluded white sand beaches before picking back up again to hoist homes painted in pastel colors borrowed from the sunset—or a Missoni knit (the Missoni’s compound is famously located nearby). The most iconic structure is a pale pink hotel; the Aga Khan-built Cala di Volpe, which has hosted the Italian elite and royal yacht-set for decades—but don’t ask the tight-lipped staff for names. On Costa Smeralda, life is certainly the most comfortable on the island, but throughout, there’s a relative ease in the air.
The landscape of Sardinia is paradisiacal, but it doesn’t have the “no bad days” ease of a tropical island. Mastic trees gnarled with age and ruins (more than 7,000 “beehive tombs,” or Nuraghes, tower throughout the island) suggest a hard earned wisdom. And if a view of the Mediterranean wasn’t enough to lure Sardinians out of the house, the weather surely will. Year round, the average temperature fluctuates ever so slightly; from the capital of Cagliari, the winter months average out to 50 degrees and push 80 degrees in summer. Getting picked up at the airport, I asked my driver what I needed to see on Costa Smeralda; he listed three different beaches. Other island habitués offered the same delightfully limited options.
Most Sardinian attractions are alfresco activities—wandering the steep hills of the capital of Cagliari or the bohemian art haven of San Pantaleo, where, every Thursday, Italianate antiques and the island’s traditional woven textiles line the narrow streets that undulate in the mountainous landscape. There’s also Neptune's Grotto, the otherworldly stalactite cave, and Gennargentu National Park, where intrepid hikers can reach the highest point on the island, passing lakes and gorges on trails lush with the wild pink peonies. Even nightlife on the island takes advantage of mother nature: beach clubs pump music over the sound of crashing waves, and Costa Smeralda’s famous Ritual club is set in a ruinous castle on a mountainside where unkempt gardens evoke Mrs. Havisham’s lair, and you can dance beneath the stars.
Being outdoors is in the island’s DNA. An agriculture-driven society meant generations of Sardinians shepherded lambs in the central region, while those along the coast were fishermen—catching spider crab, tuna, and of course, sardines. These are essential components of their Mediterranean diet, which is doused in olive oil and heady with aromatic herbs. Days are cut short by apertivo cocktail hour, or sometimes a drink earlier—one Sardinian centenarian attributed her longevity to, “two fingers width of red wine, and no more, at lunchtime every day.”
Flavors lean towards the herbal and the tangy, sometimes underseasoned to give way to natural flavors. Quintessential Sardinian dishes include lamb slow-cooked in fennel, and spit-roasted suckling pig flavored with sage and bay leaves. There’s a heavy Spanish influence, as Sardinia fell under Spanish and Catalan rule for several hundred years (Catalan is still a recognized language on the island). And there’s plenty of seafood and pasta (this is Italy, after all). Ravioli is filled with local ewe’s milk ricotta, and tagliolinis are served with catches of the day. All meals begin with Pane Carasau, a wafer-thin flatbread served with twigs of rosemary, and end with mirto di sardegna, a myrtle-leaf liquor sweetened with berries.
If all this sounds indulgent, shaving years off your life rather than coating them on, consider that here, foods are locally sourced. Farmers also employ age-old techniques that would be considered organic to the Whole Foods-set, but to the people of the island, it’s just how things are done. For standout meals, Restaurant Cala di Volpe serves an amazing supper with none of the pretension you’d expect to find at the legendary hotspot. Think bass fish filets and boiled potatoes with dill and many of the aforementioned specialities. Porto Cervo’s Il Pescatore is also worthy of all its buzz (and recently refurbished). Come for the view of bobbing yachts in the picturesque port (you can also play a game of guess-the-yacht-owner, though there’s an app for that; “a Sardinian dating app,” a local quips) and stay for the superb pasta with clams.
And though a trip to the isle doesn’t guarantee one or two bonus years added to your life, you might say vacations here at least feel longer. My five days on the island (though I’d recommend at least a week, and do rent a car) was restorative, and enough to give me a taste of the Sardinian way of (long) life. Scientists attribute their longevity to a combination of nature vs. nurture, with the latter the more dominant factor. Areas with comparable life expectancies (scientifically dubbed the Blue Zones) like Okinawa, Japan; Nicoya, Costa Rica; and Ikaria, Greece enjoy a magic combination of weather, fresh food, and physical activity that lead to good health. But leave it to the Italians to outdo them all by living just a tad longer. With the Italian commitment to living the good life, is it really that surprising that la dolce vita lasts the longest?