I know Paradise when I see it.

I don't know whether to call it a religious or spiritual experience. Maybe both. I see men dressed in garb that make them look half animal, half human. Calling themselves Mumu Thones. Wearing masks. With bunches of gold-colored metal bells strapped to their backs. They do a weird dance as they trudge march-like down the street. But the bells don't ring like bells. Instead, it's the clanking sound of animal bones striking metal. A unique sound. Can't say I ever heard it before. But what I'm seeing and hearing is very impressive. These are men living in Mamoiada, a village in the north of Sardinia. And it's festival time. In January. And this is the way Mamoiadans celebrate their ancestry. Their past. Maybe a time before humans were humans. Maybe when people were more linked to the animal world. In a primitive time. Anyway, the parade up and down the streets includes Issohodores dressed in dapper red costumes. Carrying lassos. To rope in captives. Anyone getting too close to the parade. A fun-time. For dancing around bon-fires. Or for warming one's hands. And to feed in Sardinian splendour. All sorts of tasty delicacies. Spent the past weekend in and around Mamoiada. My kind of place. Italian through and through. Albeit, some Sardinians claim on graffiti-filled walls they are Sardinians. Not Italians. They even speak a second language. One can tell a Sardinian native speaker. Because they tend to slur their s's. They are a proud people. And a friendly people. The Mamoiadans live in a labyrinthian place. Narrow and winding and steep streets. We have reservations at a bed and breakfast. In a private home. It was impossible to undertstand the complicated route we'd have to take through town to find our way. So our host came. For us to follow. And believe me, without his guidance, we'd have been lost. Maybe forever. Which might be all right in such a fairy tale setting. But we arrived. To be treated to home-brewed wine and homemade pastries and convivial talk. In Italian. But my true love translates well. She is Sardinian. But has never been to the Mamoiada festival before. She's enthralled. I've long told her that she lives in Paradise. Maybe without knowing it. But I say, trust me. I know Paradise when I see it. --Jim Broede