Sitting around the outdoor long table after dinner with our eyes closed, the gamemaster Hannes tapped me on my shoulder. Looking up, I saw my two fellow Traitors, Valdi and Eva, claiming me as one of their own. I’ve never watched The Traitors, the reality murder-mystery game show hosted in the U.S. by Alan Cumming and by others around the world, but learned while playing an IRL version of The Traitors that I’m surprisingly adept at this game of deception. In the end, all three of us traitors made it to the very end, and my wife, Debbie, was absolutely astounded to learn that I was one of the bad guys. While she fake-shamed me for my feigned innocence after we won the game, we traitors celebrated our victory with finger snaps, whoops and a glass of Prosecco.
Twelve of us were together for a late-season week at Villa La Belle Étoile, four lesbians and eight gay men. No surprise, it was the other lesbian couple who organized the trip and invited everybody to join them. Yes, lesbians are always the planners. But we’re all friends, with my wife and I the only members of the group not from Iceland.
I don’t typically seek out group travel or all-inclusive queer settings. Yet this queer group trip to Sardinia offered a reframing of what “all-in” can mean, especially when the setting is a private 10-bedroom beachfront villa in Torre Delle Stelle in southern Sardinia, a large Italian island in the western Mediterranean.
Early November temperatures in Sardinia are still quite comfortable, about 22 Celsius in the daytime, 15 Celsius in the evenings—sunny enough to wear shorts every day then change into sweaters and long pants in the evening. The sea was cool, but warm enough after the long, hot summer that people went into the water. Located a 45-minute drive from Cagliari Airport, the villa overlooks a rocky stretch of coastline, where scrubby plants give way to stone and open water. The house itself is more comfortable luxury, built around outdoor spaces with an infinity pool, multiple levels, wide terraces, hidden stone pathways and rooms left open to the air. I’d start every day by opening the door to our private patio to say good morning to one of the many feral but friendly cats that were always roaming the property.
Everything was included in the (surprisingly reasonable for what we experienced) price of our stay. That meant all of our meals were taken care of, drinks were free flowing and if we needed anything, we only had to ask one of the two amazing staff members, Giuseppe and Daniela, who were onsite from morning until evening. Because of that, our days had a simple rhythm. Just before 9 a.m., everybody would make their way to the dining area in pyjamas and robes for a breakfast buffet. My wife and I were often the last to arrive, with Birna and Eva already two espressos in, and Valdi fresh and pumped from a morning workout.
After breakfast we’d all fan out and do whatever we liked, be it swimming, reading in a hidden nook, exercising in the on-site gym, doing some remote work or lounging in the sunshine doing absolutely nothing. On the second day of our stay, Giuseppe told my wife that there was an underwater Virgin Mary statue about 500 metres from our villa, so a small group decided to paddleboard out to see if they could find it. They didn’t, but while looking my wife accidentally dropped her Ray-Bans in the water. After half an hour of searching for them with no luck, it was decided the group would return later that afternoon to try again. They were never found, but paddling out to “look for the sunglasses” became a daily activity. And no, the statue wasn’t ever seen. On the last day we learned it wasn’t even located in that area.
At 1 p.m. every day, Giuseppe would strike a gong loud enough to be heard across the property and down at the water, which meant it was time to head back to the dining area for lunch. Meals were prepared by a ridiculously talented on-site chef with a menu written on a small chalkboard, offering a couple of different options with everything served family style. Beetroot risotto, short ribs, pasta at most lunches and salad all the time. One evening we were surprised to see Horse Roll written on the menu. Horse Roll? Was this a weird translation issue? No, it really was fine pieces of seasoned horse meat rolled in filo pastry. While many North Americans might be stymied by this ingredient, as a former Montrealer I wasn’t surprised to see it on the menu, nor were the Icelanders. It was delicious.
Afternoons were spent much the same way as our mornings, and by late day we’d usually head back to our rooms for a quick shower and to change before meeting up around 6-ish for aperitivo and dinner at 7 p.m. Meals were slow and leisurely, with an informal rule that we shouldn’t always sit next to a spouse or close friends and should instead spend time next to people we didn’t know as well. As a result, by the time we left Sardinia, I felt like I had a deep connection with everybody we’d met on the trip.
After dinner we’d hang around chatting, playing games, re-enacting scenes from Real Housewives (I was Bethenny Frankel), sing karaoke down in the basement (a boozy “O Canada” was performed by Icelanders for my benefit) or head to bed early. One of our group was a photographer, so there were also lots of impromptu Mediterranean photo sessions and new Grindr profile pics. But with the closest match more than 30 kilometres away, the Grindr shots would only be put to work when the guys got back to Iceland.
While we mainly stuck close to the villa, our last day was spent in the water on a small yacht. But after almost a week of perfect weather, things turned. After a short, choppy sail out to a nearby bay, we anchored only to find the water so cold that no one wanted to swim. Instead, we quickly went through the Prosecco and packed lunch until some seriously dark clouds started to approach and the captain suggested we head back early. As we got close to our villa, though, the skies cleared, the sun came out and the water calmed, so we dropped anchor again to enjoy the yacht experience. People started jumping into the water and swimming, but those of us still onboard realized that we were out of Prosecco. Seeing as we were only a few hundred metres away from our villa, one of our group, Laimonas, texted his husband back on the mainland and asked him to paddle board out with more Prosecco. He did—to much fanfare.
In one sense, this week could have happened anywhere in the Mediterranean. We mainly spent our time at the property—I couldn’t tell you much about Sardinia except that I love Monica (that’s the name of the local Sardinian red wine grape, not another woman) and that once November rolls around pretty much everything there is closed. It’s true there wasn’t much cultural immersion on our holiday. Some may consider that a drawback, seeing as we’d gone all the way to Italy. In this case, it was exactly what the doctor ordered.
Before the trip I’d wondered if it might be a bit weird hanging out with the same people all day, every day. But I hadn’t truly understood how relaxing a week like this could be like. As a group, we all just vibed together. There was no gender separation, everybody was fully respectful of one another and our time together was comfortably drama free, something people may find a bit surprising for a group of 12 queers.
There was something quietly joyous about us doing nothing together. No nightlife agenda, no museum checklist, no searching out the hot new restaurant, no pressure to perform vacation productivity. It was easy fun mixed with many deep conversations about life, love and family. It reminded me of the simple joys of playing games together. In the end, we were all faithfuls, without a traitor to be seen.
After a lifetime of avoiding all-inclusive group travel, I learned it can be an incredibly positive experience in the right circumstances.
