The Real Viareggio Vacation

Viareggio became a new adventure with a true companion by my side.
For two people normally extraordinarily unlucky together (always missing buses, late, loosing things, strange circumstances), our two days reserved for US were perfect.

Our tiny hotel next to the huge, evergreen park, was also only a stone’s throw away from the beach. We didn’t let our experience with the reception cloud our expectations. At the desk we were greeted by who we assumed was the owner’s mother (covering for her son who was NEVER at the desk, and who was shaving and thus indisposed when we arrived) who could not only hear, but not see very well either, not even enough to give us the correct keys). The room, however, was clean, large and cool with a high ceiling and the perfume of ocean. We wasted no time here, however, and made it for the boardwalk to let our stomachs make the first and most important decision: where to eat.
Hungry and willing to spend some “vacation” money, we walked past the many pizzerias. Normal and boring. With Klajd singing about Linguine con Ragu, we paused in front of a resturant with an outdoor terrace covered by a golden yellow tent and a tempting menu: no ragu but lots of fresh fish to offer.

And what a surprise. Knowing that money is precious especially for Klajd who works like a dog for every penny, we ate like kings for the price of princes. Let me give you the run down:
Melon and prosciutto, the melon sweet and rich in color and the prosciutto thickly sliced and lacking fat.
Birra Moretti
Pasta with garlic, olive oil and fresh parsely with fresh mussels and clams (pasta aglio olio con cozze e vongole) with was QUALITY!!
Mixed fried seafood-but barely fried, low in oil and rich in taste. The seafood all fresh (small fish, calamari, mini octopus and gamberi).
Insalata Mediterranean (with corn, tomato, cheese)

The two of us were satisfied and stuffed and I can surely say that I’ve not eaten that well in many many months…it was an incredible treat to eat so well and in such a relaxing environment with such wonderful company.

And full as we were, we spent the evening walking around and ended up sunning a bit on the 2 inch section of beach that is PUBLIC. Now, remember, 95% of Viareggio (and the other surrounding areas) are private, which means you pay for an ombrella, chairs and bathroom/storage space. That evening we decided to join the others on the rocks of the FREE beach space and Klajd napped as I watched the sun set a beautiful orange. Later on we grabbed gelato, headed back the apartment to change and walked the boardwalk searching for the perfect place to grab a drink. Hungry again, this time it’s around 10pm, Klajd gets a pizza to accompany his beer and I sip French Connection (ammeretto and brandy). We chat and people watch, munch on the free olives and peanuts, and decide to head to the beach once more. About midnight, we stroll down to the waves and grab a stranded beach chair. A Monday night, we are alone, and we sit in silence for a bit listening to the waves, looking out into an incredibly vast space that both inspires, mystifies and frightens all at once. The moon is almost full and most of the stars are bright. I point out the Big Dipper to Klajd and he point out his favorite star to me. The one that is shining the brightest, the most confident.
We sigh happily and head in for the night.

The next day we splurge and find a private beach that gives us a discount of 17 euro for beach space and a cabin (to leave belongings and in which to change) instead of 19. After leaving our things, we eat once again (this time we head into the town of Viareggio and find a hot dog wrapped in bread, which we both decide is a great breakfast, and then to buy fresh fruit to keep with us on the beach) and then head to the beach. We spend almost 7 hours lounging in the shade of our rented ombrella and steal 2 recliners. Klajd buys a couple of cold beers, to cool our sweating selves because even by the water the temperature is in the 90’s! I lay in the sun for approximately 30 minutes, but being mid day, I burn and end up itching and feeling the pain of my overexposure for the next few days. The part burned the most? My tender bottom. I looked like a candy cane.

Beautiful to spend the hours with Klajd, who thoroughly relaxed and intelligently avoided the sun. We took a few dips in the water, but after several encounters with jelly fish, we avoided the ocean with a crooked eye. The beaches have a cold shower near the water to rinse off, and two young brothers discovered this as the perfect basin to create a river to the sea. Decorated with a bucket full of jelly fish, Klajd and I laughed as these naked kids (with white bottoms) thrilled us with their sandy architecture. We put our feet one last time into the greenish, clean-enough Mediterranean and head back to what ended up being quite a dramatic ending. We didn't let it ruin our mini-vacation, although it surely had me in tears. Klajd made me calm down, enough to make our way peacefully back to the train station without one second spared in analyzing the situation previous:
here it is in a nutshell.
-Like all beaches, when you rent, you get an ombrella and 2 beach chairs. Being a MOnday, no one around, over the course of the afternoon we spotted and borrowed 2 recliners instead of our chairs. Mind you the beach was half empty, we frequented the bar for an icecream, walked around, and spent a lovely afternoon on the beach.
-Around 7pm, after our last dip in the water, we were resting and drying out on our chairs in the softening evening sun. A very large man came up to us out of no where and told us to leave, at that very moment. Very gruffly and without reason, he told us the place was closing and we had to move it. Both of us very surprised, put-off and confused, Klajd asked the man to stop shouting and to let us gather our stuff. Klajd, calm the entire time, even pointed out that there were others on the beach still. The very large, sun-burned, loud and rude man yelled in Italian, attracting others to watch the scene, that we were rude and had abused the beaches services and now he had to put everything back in order....meaning our chairs. Klajd asked if we weren't supposed to use the chairs and even offered to paid for the usage if necessary. The man instead said no and his helpers picked up our belongings and carried them to the exit where they plopped them down. We were told to shut up and leave. On our way out, in fact, after Klajd told the man he was the rude one, out of no where the man ran up from the beach aggressively, as if he wanted to fight, and stood in front of Klajd with his face within inches of Klajd's telling him this conversation was over. Having to get dressed in the street and make count of our belongings, within seconds I begin to cry. Humiliated and confused still. If this were all because we used the chairs, they would have been better to tell us about it. If not, the man who we had never seen previously, was simply a "str*nzo" and we were given a kick with little reason.
I've never experienced such a thing in my life.

Not a great way to end our trip....but eventful just the same. My protector amazingly tranquil through it all, though we could have benefitted from the cancellation of a few swears...be it the Italian in us....


San Giovanni, Florence’s Saints Day, Friday June 24th 2005
Celebrated like a birthday, Florence’s shops closed down early and the piazza’s were filled with gelato-lovers (which would be no different than any other day.) A parade with Florentine’s in traditional costume wound through the center and the historic game of soccer took place on the sand-filled piazza of Santa Croce. Tickets to this game were sold out way in advance, as risers were set up to accommodate the hundreds of fans eager to watch the aggressive, rugby-style match between rival teams from the 4 quartieri of Florence. The polizia were set up around the piazza, and the only live look I stole was of sweaty, shirtless young Florentines hooting and hollering in the stands. I got a better look on TV as the game was broadcast live.

In the evening, I followed the thousands down to the River Arno to catch the 10pm fireworks. Early arrivers grabbed the best seats-jumping up and sitting on the walls of stone lining the Lungarno (street paralleling the river)-or finding space peering out towards Piazza Michelangelo from the center of the Ponte Vecchio. Waiting in the humid evening, we stand in groups, everyone armed with video cameras, digital cameras are even more popular, camera cell phones. Around 10:15 the “fuochi artificiali” begin and the groups hoot and hollar. I envy those up on their apartment terraces, lined with candles that are glittering and beckoning me down on the ground. About a 30 minute show, I’m not too impressed. Most of the fireworks resemble stems of flowers shooting up into the sky, with their beautiful flowering heads chopped off. But I am reminiscing about home and the fireworks we watch and listen to every year-in the back yard of some lucky family member. Every time a huge, glistening and sparkling one explodes, we shout and clap. This occurs, humorously, only about every 5 minutes…but we enjoy the event nonetheless. The evening is hot and the day has been even hotter. With no breeze for the past week and the days reaching high 90’s and the evenings not much less, the entire city is thrilled to partake in an evening event to thrill families and young couples and tourist groups alike.

Instead of splurging on another gelato, I’ve taken to cutting up a sweet watermelon, and this idea is not just mine. Tradition has it that after the fire works, folks head to Piazza Independenza where Giacomo serves up huge slices of “cocomero”. He has a fruit/bar stand (wine, beer and tons of fresh fruit that he buys daily as well as the infamous huge barrel of cold, sweet whole watermelons) that has been running for many many years, and stays open until 4am which pleases the late-night crowd in search of after-bar snacks or sweety sleepless folks

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