I stayed at Pullman Timi Ama in Villasimius. Four nights. Early June. Warm sun, clear water, pink flamingos nearby. It felt like a dream, and also a real place with little quirks.
If you’d like an even deeper dive into every moment, you can check out my honest stay at a beach resort in Sardinia for a blow-by-blow account.

The quick take

The beach is stunning. The water is that electric blue you see in postcards. The resort is pretty, clean, and friendly. Some things cost extra. A few things were slow. I’d still go back.

Where I slept, what I paid

I booked a “lagoon view” room. King bed, small sofa, and a tiny balcony that looked over a green lagoon. You can walk to the beach in about 10 minutes, or take the cute little shuttle. My rate was around 400 euros a night with breakfast. Pricey, yes, but it’s Sardinia in season.

Funny thing: it felt calm by the room, yet the pool was busy. Both can be true. Mornings were peaceful; afternoons got lively.

First morning magic

I woke up early and walked to Porto Giunco Beach. The path smelled like wild herbs. I heard cicadas. And then—wow—the water. Clear like glass. White sand. A lifeguard set up chairs. Flamingos stood in the Notteri lagoon behind me. My kid counted them like they were Pokémon. We stayed until the wind picked up.

You know what? I could’ve stayed there all day.

Food that made me smile

Breakfast had fresh ricotta, cherries, warm pastries, and crispy pane carasau. I piled honey on everything. One day they had seadas—fried pastry with cheese and honey. Sweet and salty. I went back for seconds.

Dinner was a buffet the night we stayed in. I had fregola with clams, grilled sea bream, and a bright tomato salad. The chef salted things well, which I love. The spritz at the bar was strong and clean. It also cost about 12 euros, which stings a bit.

I did sneak out to town for gelato. Pistachio and lemon. Worth the sticky fingers.

Beach days, real talk

The resort runs a little shuttle to the beach if you don’t want to walk. Umbrellas and loungers are set in neat rows. The first rows cost more. The back rows are included for some bookings. That part was a tad confusing, so ask right away.

Most days, the sea was calm and silky. One day, the maestrale wind came in. Whitecaps, red flag, and we stayed near the shore. Another morning we saw a few jellyfish. The lifeguard pointed them out, and we avoided them. No drama.

My kid loved the mini club craft hour. I loved 30 quiet minutes reading under an umbrella. Small wins.

Pool, spa, and little moments

The pool felt warm by noon and got busy after lunch. I liked morning laps when it was quiet. The spa has a salty pool and a steam room. It felt soothing after the sun. The gym was small but fine for a quick session.

Housekeeping was steady. Fresh towels by 2 pm most days. Towel cards for beach towels—don’t lose them.

People and pace

Check-in was slow. Like, “let me finish this espresso” slow. But staff were kind. They brought water and smiled. I’ll take kind over fast.

Service at the beach bar was quick. Sandwich with prosciutto and tomato, cold beer, and shade. Simple and perfect.

The good stuff (and the stuff that bugged me)

• Beach: five stars. Soft sand, shallow water, safe vibe.
• Food: fresh, with local touches—fregola, ricotta, seadas.
• Family feel: kids club helped, lifeguards kept watch.
• Nature: flamingos in the lagoon! Yes, real ones.

And the not-so-great:

• Mosquitoes near the lagoon at sunset. Bring spray.
• Extra fees for front-row chairs and some activities.
• Wi-Fi got weak near the beach.
• Music by the bar went until 11 pm on Saturday. Not crazy loud, but you’ll hear it.

Quick trips that made it better

One afternoon we walked up to the old stone tower over Porto Giunco. It’s a short climb. The view showed two shades of blue on each side. On another morning, we drove to Capo Carbonara. Rocky, wild, and windy. Bring a hat.

Parking in town uses a small machine. Keep coins handy.

I planned these little adventures with the help of Antonello Salis, a treasure trove of Sardinian tips that pointed me toward the best viewpoints and quiet coves.

Tips I wish I knew

• Spray for bugs at dusk, near the lagoon.
• Go early to the beach before the wind wakes up.
• Water shoes? Not needed. The sand is soft.
• Book chairs if you care about front rows.
• Rent a car. Beaches and gelato are easier with one.
• Sunscreen, then more sunscreen. The sun here means business.

Who should go

• Families who want calm water and easy days.
• Couples who like nature, not a party scene.
• Friends who enjoy long swims and slow meals.
• Solo travelers who’d like to connect with fellow beach-lovers. For curvy travelers especially, you might peek at InstantChat’s BBW community where you can chat with like-minded people, share tips, and maybe line up a friendly face before you touch down in Sardinia.

If your itinerary routes you through the Netherlands on the way to or from Sardinia and you’re curious about Amsterdam’s famously open-minded nightlife, take a moment to browse this curated directory of trans escorts in Holland—it lists verified profiles, transparent rates, and safety tips so you can plan an inclusive, stress-free evening during your stopover.

If you want nightlife that runs until 3 am, look elsewhere. This place whispers more than it shouts.

A tiny gripe, a big grin

Was it perfect? No. The Wi-Fi and fees got old. But the sea was perfect. And my kid still talks about the flamingos and the “sweet cheese pastry with honey.” That counts.

Would I go back?

Yes. I’d book earlier, pack bug spray, and plan two dinners in town. Then I’d sit under that umbrella and watch the water change colors. Simple plan. Happy heart.

—Kayla Sox

I’ll keep this simple. I’m Kayla, and I actually sat in a room and felt this music in my bones. I saw Antonello Salis live in Sardinia, then I went home and played his records till my neighbors knew his name too. So, yeah—this is real. If you want the quick back-story of the man himself, here’s a handy overview on Wikipedia.

If you’re curious about every twist and turn of that first encounter, I broke the night down minute-by-minute in this separate recap.

How I Found Him (and why I was unsure at first)

A friend dragged me to Time in Jazz in Berchidda last summer. It’s a small hill town. Warm night air. Dust on my sneakers. I wasn’t ready for anything heavy. I just wanted a drink and some easy tunes. I’d spent the afternoon on the coast—here’s my honest stay at a beach resort in Sardinia—so I was in vacation mode and not expecting to be blown away. If you ever plan to experience the festival yourself, this detailed guide to Time in Jazz in Berchidda can help you map out the trip.

Then Antonello walked out with a grin, an accordion, and a piano that looked like it had stories.

You can dive deeper into his world—tour dates, albums, and fresh videos are all waiting on Antonello Salis’s official website.

You know what? I braced for “background jazz.” I got fireworks instead.

The Live Set That Hooked Me

Real example one:

• Place: Time in Jazz, Berchidda, Sardinia
• Seat: about three rows back, dead center
• Drink: a plastic cup of a cheap Negroni, a bit too sharp

He started on the piano with a soft run. Then he stood, opened the lid, and strummed the strings with his hand. Light taps. A hiss, a hum. He kept time with a heel stomp that shook the floor. It felt like someone knocking on a door inside my chest.

Halfway through, he grabbed the accordion. Warm air in a box—that’s what it sounded like. He didn’t just play notes. He bent them, teased them, made them laugh. He threw in little bits that felt like folk dances—turns and skips—and then slid back into deep, late-night jazz. At one point, he shouted a line into the body of the piano, and the sound swirled back like a ghost.

I got chills during a slow, minor piece that built and built, then broke open like a wave. People around me stopped breathing for a second. You could hear the wind outside the tent.

I left with dust on my ankles and a grin I couldn’t shake.

A Smaller Room, A Wilder Night

Real example two:

• Place: Jazzino, Cagliari (small club, low ceiling, red lights)
• Time: early spring, midweek
• Seat: at the side of the stage, near the left speaker

This one felt raw. The mix wasn’t perfect—piano a touch hot, accordion a bit shy—but his energy filled the gaps. He switched between instruments like he was talking to two friends at once. I remember a fast piece in odd time where he clapped a rhythm and the room clapped back, messy but joyful. He winked at an older couple near me when he quoted a tiny phrase from an Italian folk tune. They laughed, then cried a little. I think that says plenty.

If you leave a show this electric wanting to spark up conversation with the stranger next to you—maybe about music, maybe about meeting later for a late-night bite—and you’re stumped for a smooth ice-breaker, swing by this list of Tinder pick-up lines for clever openers that go beyond the usual “Hey, how’s your night?”; it’s a quick way to turn shared concert vibes into an actual chat.

And hey, if your travels eventually carry you far from Sardinia—say you find yourself drifting along Florida’s Gulf Coast and craving company that’s as open-minded and unforgettable as an Antonello solo—you can browse OneNightAffair’s trans escort listings in Bradenton to meet welcoming, professional companions who’ll help you keep the spirit of a wild, music-soaked evening alive long after the final encore.

At Home With Headphones

Real example three:

• Gear: old Sony cans, small desktop amp
• Tracks: his duos with a trumpet player (you can find a bunch on streaming), and a live solo set recorded in Italy

The duos are airy and brave. Lots of space. Notes hang like lanterns. When he brings the accordion in, it blooms, round and salty, like sea air. On the solo set, he bangs the low end, then whispers in the high keys, and somehow it still feels like one story. I used these tracks for late-night work. I also used them while folding laundry because life is not a movie, but music helps.

Side note: my dad kept an old accordion in our attic. I never loved it then. Antonello made me want to pull it out, dust and all.

What I Loved

• He plays with joy. You can hear the smile.
• He blends jazz with folk roots. It feels local and wide at once.
• The accordion tone is warm, never thin.
• He takes risks. Some are wild, and many land just right.
• Live, he brings the room into the song—claps, snaps, breath, all of it.

What Bugged Me (a little)

• Inside-piano sounds can get scratchy. If you hate that, fair warning.
• Some tracks wander. It’s the nature of improv, but still.
• Club mixes vary. I had one night where the lows boomed too much.
• If you want smooth, hotel-lobby jazz—this isn’t that.

Who Will Click With This

• Fans of playful, fearless jazz
• Folks who like accordion greats and Mediterranean color
• People who enjoy live sets where anything can happen
• Night owls who love slow builds and sudden turns

How I’d Start If You’re New

• Watch a live clip first. Seeing him helps the sound make sense.
• Try a duo session next. The space gives you room to listen.
• Use real speakers if you can. The low notes feel better in your body.
• Late evening, low lights. It pairs well with quiet.

Tiny Things That Made Me Smile

• The heel stomp. It’s a heartbeat.
• The quick grin before a risky leap.
• A short quote from a folk tune tucked inside a heavy chord.
• The way he moves—like he’s dancing with the piano, not sitting at it.

My Verdict

I’d see him again tomorrow. I’d even sit closer, though I might bring earplugs just in case the room booms. He made me feel awake in a slow, kind way. Not many players do that.

Score: 4.5 out of 5.

Would I recommend? Yes. If you like music that breathes and sweats and dares, go hear “Salis Antonello.” Take someone you love, or go alone. Either way, you’ll walk out a little lighter, with dust on your shoes and a tune stuck to your ribs.

I’m Kayla. I’ve stayed all over Sardinia—north, south, and that wild east coast. And you know what? The “best area” changes with your mood. One trip I wanted quiet coves. Next time I wanted music, gelato, and an easy bus to the beach. Both were perfect, just in different ways.

Let me explain how I sorted it out, with real days, real beds, and real sand in my shoes.

Quick picks before the long story

• No car and want charm: Alghero or Cagliari
• Water so blue it looks fake: Chia, Stintino, or La Maddalena
• Quiet coves and boat days: Cala Gonone and the Gulf of Orosei
• Fancy vibe and nightlife: Costa Smeralda (Porto Cervo, Baja Sardinia)
• Family-friendly and easy: Villasimius or Alghero (Maria Pia beach)
• Great value and color: Bosa or Santa Teresa Gallura

For extra on-the-ground insight, I also leaned on this Sardinian local's guide, which maps out lesser-known beaches and eateries. For an even deeper planning dive, you can read my full breakdown of Sardinia’s best areas to stay, where I compare each corner of the island in detail.

To balance that local intel with broader travel wisdom, I kept two trusty references open on my phone: the Travel + Leisure Sardinia travel guide for a polished overview and hotel ideas, and Lonely Planet’s Sardinia section for down-to-earth bus routes, budget tips, and walking notes.

Now, here’s where I actually stayed and what happened.

Alghero: Old stone walls, soft sand, grilled fish

I stayed near the old town walls, two blocks from the sea. I’d grab a cappuccino on Via Carlo Alberto, then walk the ramparts as the sun warmed the stones. It felt slow in the best way.

Maria Pia beach was my go-to. Wide. Pine trees for shade. Clear, shallow water that made kids squeal. I caught the little beach bus in town and didn’t miss a car at all. One night I booked dinner at a country farm near the airport called Sa Mandra. Big tables. Lots of local dishes. I still remember the roasted suckling pig and the myrtle liqueur. I waddled home, happy.

Who it fits: easy base without a car, families, food lovers.

What I didn’t love: weekend crowds on the ramparts. Go early or late for quiet.

Cala Gonone: Boat days that feel like a dream

When I wanted secret-feeling beaches, I stayed in Cala Gonone. My room had a small balcony over the water. The plan was simple. Walk to the harbor. Hop on a small boat. Spend the day in coves that look like a postcard.

Cala Luna gave me soft sand and shade under caves. Cala Mariolu had water so clear I watched fish nibble foam from my toes. The skipper handed out cool melon at noon, which just felt right. Back in town, I got a cone of lemon gelato and sat on the steps like a kid.

Who it fits: couples, swimmers, hikers who want cliff trails too.

What I didn’t love: once the wind picked up, boats stopped. Have a “land day” backup (I did the Bue Marino caves tour).

Villasimius: Easy town, big beaches, and a pink sunset

I booked a small B&B near the main street in Villasimius. I could walk to dinner, then sleep early. Each morning I drove a few minutes to Simius or Porto Giunco. The sand felt like warm flour. Flamingos stood in the lagoon like pale statues. Punta Molentis took my breath away, but the parking lot filled fast. I learned to arrive by 8:30 a.m. and leave after lunch.

Dinner was casual—pizza one night, a plate of fregola with clams the next. Simple and fresh. No fuss.

Who it fits: families, first-timers, folks who like easy parking and town life.

What I didn’t love: August felt packed. June and September were sweet and calm.

Costa Smeralda (Baja Sardinia): Glossy, pretty, pricey

I tried the fancy side to see the buzz. I stayed near Baja Sardinia and spent a day people-watching in Porto Cervo. Big boats, big sunglasses, tiny dogs. If you find yourself soaking up the jet-set nightlife here and would like a little adult company beyond bar banter, check out JustBang’s “Craigslist women seeking men” personals—the ads are regularly updated and filterable by location, so you can discreetly arrange a date and add an unexpected spark to your Sardinian nights. The water? Unreal. I swam off Liscia Ruja and Spiaggia del Principe and felt like a movie extra. The overall vibe echoed much of what I shared in my honest stay at a beach resort in Sardinia, where comfort and cost danced a tricky tango.

But groceries felt high, and beach parking added up. Worth it once. Not my everyday pace.

Back home, when I’m chasing that same carefree vibe on a totally different continent, I sometimes scroll through One Night Affair’s trans escort listings for Binghamton—the site’s vetted profiles, clear reviews, and upfront rates let you arrange a respectful, excitement-filled meetup without the guesswork.

Who it fits: nightlife fans, honeymoon vibes, splurge trips.

What I didn’t love: the bill. The calm water helped me forget, but only a bit.

La Maddalena (and Caprera): Island hop joy

I took the ferry from Palau and spent a night in La Maddalena town. After lunch, I rented a scooter and zipped over the bridge to Caprera. Spiaggia del Relitto looked like a painting. Late day light hit the rocks, and the water turned glassy. Next morning I booked a small boat tour. We stopped near Spargi and saw the pink shore at Budelli from the water (no walking on it—protected). Fair. It’s too pretty to wear out.

Who it fits: photographers, snorkelers, couples, anyone who says “wow” out loud.

What I didn’t love: sun is strong, shade is rare. A light shirt saved me.

Quick detours that stuck with me

• Stintino (La Pelosa): You need a ticket and a mat for the sand. It’s fussy, but that blue? Worth it. I went late afternoon and it felt calm.
• Cagliari: I stayed near Castello. Loved Poetto beach by bus, and the San Benedetto market for seafood and cheese. Day trip to Nora ruins gave me history with sea views.
• Bosa: I did one night. Rainbow houses by the river, a small taste of Malvasia wine, and a slow walk at sunset. Not a beach hub, but a mood. It felt similar to the night I spent with Salis Antonello—short, sweet, and surprisingly memorable.

So, which area is “best”?

I’ll split it by the kind of trip you want.

• No car, simple days: Alghero or Cagliari
• Peak-beach wow: Chia, Villasimius, or Stintino
• Quiet coves and boat magic: Cala Gonone / Gulf of Orosei
• Fancy nights and perfect water: Costa Smeralda
• Color and calm budget: Bosa or Santa Teresa Gallura
• With kids: Alghero (Maria Pia), Villasimius (Simius), or Costa Rei

Small twist: I tell friends to pick two bases. One “town base” (Alghero or Cagliari) and one “pure beach base” (Cala Gonone or Villasimius). That mix kept me happy and kept the drives short.

When to go and little tips I wish I knew

• Months: June and September were gold. Warm water, fewer crowds. July was fine. August was busy and hot.
• Wind: If the Mistral hits the northwest, I switch to a south beach that day. It helps a lot.
• Parking: Many beach lots take cash. I kept coins handy.
• Shade: Bring a light umbrella or a hat. Real shade is rare on some beaches.
• Boats: Small-boat tours feel nicer than huge ones. I loved leaving early, back by 3 p.m.
• Local bites: Try pane carasau, pecorino, bottarga, and a small glass of mirto after dinner.

My simple verdict

If you want one base only, pick Alghero for ease or Villasimius for beaches. If you want the trip I’ll remember forever, do Alghero for three nights and Cala Gonone for four. That gave me old stone lanes, slow dinners, and those bright, hidden coves. Honestly, that mix felt just right.

And a last note

I’m Kayla. I travel with two kids who love sugar, slides, and bedtime stalling. We spent two weeks in Sardinia in June, split across a few family resorts. I came home sun-kissed, sandy, and weirdly proud I packed enough snacks. Here’s my honest take — the good, the messy, and the “why is the pool this cold?” sort of stuff.

Quick note: we flew into Cagliari for the south and Olbia for the north. We rented a car. Best choice we made. Gelato stops came with it. Pistachio won the trip.
Before we left, I mined the local-parent wisdom on Antonello Salis and nabbed tips that spared us both tantrums and wrong turns. If you want the same insider scoop, his Sardinia with kids guide lays it all out.

Figuring out where to base yourself first can save hours in the car; I cross-checked our plan with Antonello’s rundown of Sardinia’s best areas to stay before booking.

First, a tiny truth

I love big resorts. Then I don’t. Crowds stress me. But with kids, big can be easy. More shade, more pools, more “Mom, can I go again?” You know what? I made peace with both.

Forte Village Resort, Santa Margherita di Pula — “The Kids Took Over. I Lived.”

This place is a small city by the sea. Bright flowers. Palm shadows. Golf carts whizz past like they’re late for recess. My son called it “kid Disneyland without Mickey,” which is close. If you want a glossy, outsider’s take, Women’s Health magazine put together a detailed write-up of Forte Village that lines up with much of what we saw.

What we used for real:

• Children’s Wonderland and Mario’s Village: my daughter baked pretend cakes; my son drove mini-cars in circles. Giulia at the mini club remembered their names by day two. I almost cried from the sheer relief.
• The Acquapark: slides that look scary and are not. I went down the blue one and screamed anyway. The kids still tease me.
• Bikes with child seats: clutch for getting from our bungalow to dinner without meltdowns.
• The pizzeria near the main square: simple, fast, and big enough to share. Staff brought the kids crayons without asking. Bless them.

Beach notes:

• Soft, pale sand; clear, gentle water in the morning. It got choppier after lunch. We stuck to mornings and naps.
• Loungers got claimed early. Towel diplomacy is real.

The “hmm” list:

• It’s pricey. I knew that going in. Still gasped at a few drink bills.
• Breakfast got crowded at 9 a.m. We started going at 8:15. Much calmer.
• Babysitting after dinner was great, but not cheap. Worth it for one date night.

Tip I wish I knew: sandals with back straps are gold on the wooden paths. Also, book half board. The buffet saved us from hunger-tantrum doom.

Parents sometimes ask me how to recapture a bit of grown-up adventure once the kids are settled with the sitter or conked out after a day of slides. If you’re curious about where modern dating culture meets the quick-hit spirit of old-school classifieds, the guide to the best Craigslist-style hookup apps breaks down which platforms still have real users, clear safety features, and minimal hassle, letting you decide if an adults-only side quest fits into your next child-free evening.

Some of my Canadian parent friends joke that the hardest part of any getaway is remembering how to date again once you’re back home. If that home happens to be on the Atlantic coast, a thoughtfully curated resource like Trans Escort New Brunswick provides up-front details, verified photos, and safety guidelines so that any meet-up starts from a place of clarity and consent.

Chia Laguna, Chia — “Gorgeous, Windy, and Full of Little Joys”

The beaches here look fake. Su Giudeu is this shallow, turquoise sheet of calm. My kids walked out and still had water at their knees. We watched tiny fish dash by their toes. We all squealed like kids. Fine, me too.

What helped us:

• Kids club in the morning, beach after lunch. The club had a baby corner with a microwave and warm milk, which made bottle life easier.
• Shuttle to the beach. Came often. We brought the foldable stroller and didn’t hate our lives.
• Dinner had a pasta station. Sauce on the side. Simple wins.

The windy bit:

• The mistral showed up two afternoons in a row. Umbrellas wobbled. Sand flew. The kids thought it was thrilling. I thought, well, exfoliation’s free.

The hill problem:

• The resort sits on slopes. Pretty views, strong legs. Stairs plus stroller made me mutter. I still loved it, but I felt it.

Tiny fix: we asked for a room closer to the pool after night one. They moved us. Took five minutes and my mood flipped.

Pullman Timi Ama, Villasimius — “Flamingos, Soft Sand, and 90s Hotel Vibes (In a Good Way)”

This one sits between a lagoon with flamingos and a big, gentle beach. Yes, real flamingos. My kids now think all lagoons have pink birds. Hard myth to break.

What stood out:

• Little train to the beach. The driver waved every time like we were friends.
• The kids club felt warm, not pushy. A gentle staffer named Enrico coaxed my shy daughter into a painting game, and she left with blue hands and a grin.
• Tennis courts for me, a lazy river vibe for the rest (not a real lazy river, but you get it).

Food stuff:

• Breakfast had proper espresso and a pancake corner. Dinner buffet had a bright salad bar and one solid roast meat each night. Desserts looked prettier than they tasted, but the fruit was ripe and cold.

The small gripes:

• Rooms are a touch dated. Clean, though. Think comfy, not flashy.
• Mosquitoes at dusk near the lagoon. We learned fast. Spray at 6:30 p.m., not 7.

Worth it for: the beach. Calm mornings, soft entry, and enough space that I didn’t whisper “sorry” every two steps.

If you’re curious how another parent found resort life, Antonello’s no-filter review of a Sardinian beach resort echoes a lot of my own highs and lows.

Resort & SPA Le Dune, Badesi (Delphina) — “Huge, Cheery, and Great Value”

Northern Sardinia felt wilder. The sea here had more mood. Le Dune is like a family village. So many paths and pockets that I lost my way on purpose. Among its five micro-hotels, La Duna Bianca sits right on the sand, and The Week’s recent review captures the all-inclusive indulgence better than I ever could.

Family wins:

• Multiple kids pools and a shallow splash area. Water felt a smidge warmer here, which helped with my cold-pool kids.
• The Peter Pan kids restaurant. Staff ate with the kids and made everything feel like summer camp. I sat near the door and watched, pretending I was chill.
• Long beach with strong sun. Free shuttle there and back. We built the ugliest sandcastle. It still counts.

Food notes:

• Tons of choice. Grilled fish one night, big salads the next, with a creamy risotto that I thought about on the flight home.
• It felt less fancy than the south, and that suited us. Easy, cheerful, no fuss.

What to watch:

• The sea can be rough later in the day. We swam mornings. Afternoon became shell-hunting time.
• It’s a trek from the airports. Our drive from Olbia took about 1 hour 20 minutes with a bathroom stop and one “I dropped my bear” moment.

A Quick Word on Falkensteiner Capo Boi, Villasimius — “Small Cove, Big Smiles”

We did two nights here. Private-feel cove, clear water for simple snorkel peeks, and a kids club called Falky Land that felt so clean and bright it made me want to play too.

Good bits:

• Early dinner hours with a kids buffet. My son lived on tomato pasta and cucumbers and somehow thrived.
• Evening mini-disco with a caretaker who knew the Chicken Dance by heart. I laughed, then I danced, then I pulled a calf muscle. Worth it.

Less great:

• Pebbly spots in the water. Water shoes helped a lot.
• Shade at noon was limited right by the water. We rotated like sunflowers.

Random Things That Helped (And Kept Me

Quick outline

• Set the scene and why I care
• Who they are (plain and simple)
• What I heard live, with real moments
• What worked, what didn’t
• Who should listen
• A few listening tips
• Final take

Here’s the thing: I still hear the wood and wind from that night. Naná Vasconcelos on berimbau and voice. Antonello Salis on piano and accordion. Two people, one room, and a lot of breath. I caught their duo late, at a jazz festival in Sardinia. If the island’s tug is real for you too, here’s my local guide to Sardinia’s best area to stay; it maps the beaches, bars, and cheap rooms I swear by. No big intro. Just a nod and a soft shaker. Then—boom—magic. I later poured every spark from that first collision into a longer recap, which you can catch in Berimbau and Bellows: My Night With Naná Vasconcelos and Antonello Salis.

Wait, who are they?

• Naná was a Brazilian percussionist from Recife. He made a single string sing. The berimbau looks simple—bow, gourd, wire—but he could make it sound like rain, birds, and a heartbeat, all at once. He passed in 2016, but his sound lives strong. If you’ve heard the Pat Metheny and Lyle Mays record “As Falls Wichita, So Falls Wichita Falls,” that airy, human rhythm? That’s him.
• Antonello is a Sardinian pianist and accordion player. He treats the piano like a friend and a playground. He plucks the strings, slaps the wood, then jumps to accordion and floats a melody that feels like sea air. He laughs when he plays. It’s kind of great. You can dig deeper into his world at Antonello Salis’ official site.

Curious about an entire night devoted only to Antonello’s set? I wrote it all down in I spent a night with Salis Antonello—here’s how it hit me.

You know what? It felt like a kitchen jam
I grew up with spoons on pots. So when Naná shook a caxixi (that small basket rattle tied to his berimbau) and thumped his chest mic for a bass hit, I smiled. It felt homey. Then Antonello slid his hand inside the piano. He muted the strings with one palm and tapped a rhythm with the other. Clack. Thrum. A tiny blues phrase slipped out. He looked up and grinned.

Real moments I wrote down that night

• The birdcall tease: Naná whistled a high, thin note and brushed the berimbau string with the coin. The gourd pressed to his belly made that wah sound—like a voice talking. Antonello answered on accordion with a slow, rising swell. It felt like dawn, even though it was close to midnight.
• The stomp-and-spark: Mid-set, Antonello shifted to the piano and played a left-hand drone, low and heavy. Naná layered shakers, then clapped a backbeat and used his voice as a drum—puh, tsk, tsk, hah. He tossed in tiny bells. I saw two people at work, but I heard a whole street parade.
• The quiet break: They dropped to a whisper. You could hear chair creaks. Naná sang—just vowels—and held the berimbau note until it buzzed. Antonello tapped harmonics on the strings and let them shimmer. Nobody coughed. We were all holding the same breath.
• The wild laugh: Antonello hit a big piano cluster—both forearms, fast—and laughed out loud. Naná shot back with a rolling rhythm and a flash of cupped-hand mouth beats. It sounded rough but felt right. Like fresh bread torn by hand.

A small tangent, but it matters
Earlier that week I re-listened to Naná on that Metheny/Mays album. Same warmth. Same body-in-the-sound feel. So when he built a groove live by stacking voice, shaker, and bow buzz, I knew that flavor. It wasn’t a trick. That’s his thing—make rhythm breathe.

What worked for me

• Texture play: Wood, skin, metal, air. They kept changing colors. You think it’s a drum duo, then you hear a hymn.
• Humor and heart: They teased each other. Quick quotes, little jokes. It kept the room loose.
• Movement: Accordion lines floated over earthy beats. Piano thunder met berimbau whispers. Push and pull, like tide.

What didn’t (and it’s fair to say)

• Wandering bits: One long stretch felt like searching with the lights off. If you need clear tunes, you might drift.
• Room noise: A couple mic pops and chair squeaks. Not a big deal, but in soft parts it stood out.

Who should give this a shot

• Folks who like improvisation more than fixed songs.
• Fans of global jazz and folk edges.
• People who enjoy hearing the actual material—wood, string, breath—do the talking.

Jazz gigs and late-night festival corners are also where many queer music lovers find their tribe. If you’re looking for that same open-ear, open-heart vibe online, swing by InstantChat’s gay community—inside you’ll tap into a 24/7 chat where listeners share playlists, trade festival stories, and plan real-world meet-ups to keep the improvisation alive long after the encore.

And if your post-gig wanderings ever carry you to Philadelphia’s porch-lined Germantown neighborhood, the city’s inclusive nightlife has its own sweet after-hours coda. For listeners who crave one-on-one company as adventurous as a free-jazz solo, exploring the trans escort scene in Germantown offers a safe, discreet path to vetted companions, transparent expectations, and the kind of mutual respect that lets everyone improvise their perfect ending to the night.

If you’re unsure, try this

• Good headphones. Medium volume. Let the low berimbau bloom.
• Follow the conversation. Ask yourself, “Who is leading right now?” It flips, a lot.
• Don’t expect a melody you can hum all night. Expect a moment you’ll remember.

One more real example I loved
Near the end, Naná set a fast shaker pattern and sang a short chant. Antonello squeezed a bright, almost carnival run on accordion, then landed back at the piano with a soft, major chord bed. The chant slowed. He held one last berimbau buzz, and Antonello tucked a single note under it, like a pillow. The lights felt warmer. People didn’t clap right away. That pause said plenty.

So, would I go again?
In a heartbeat. It’s not background music. It’s close-up, hands-on sound. It’s two people testing wood and wire and breath, and somehow finding a shared story. Messy at times. Human always. And honestly? That’s why I loved it.