Suntans & Taxis
The cool and stormy weather of Venice is now long gone and has been replaced by temps in the mid 80’s and enough humidity to drive up the price of deoderant … Suffice it to say that it’s getting quite smelly around here.
Yesterday was Sunday, which means nothing is open so when in Tuscany, do as the Tuscans do and head to the beach. We chose Viareggio, as did just about everyone else judging by the crowds on the train. It was a quick train ride that felt like it took an eternity thanks to the stench of body odor we had to endure. After surviving the smell, we had to then endure the very long and hot walk to the beach. Our original plan was to head to the beach, check it out, walk around and then take off and head to Pisa.
Lesson #1 of the day … where there’s water and sand, kids will not be satisfied with merely “walking around, taking a look”. Before we knew it, we had rented a prime spot for 15 Euro and the kids were soaking wet.
The Italians do know how to do beaches. Most of the beaches are private where you will find row after row of large umbrellas each with two chairs. The spots closest to the water are reserved for the “season ticket holders”. You rent your spot, which means no carting around umbrellas and chairs each time you head to the beach. Brilliant, if you ask me!! Because on this particular day quite a few season ticket holders didn’t show up, we were given the umbrella closest to the water at the 2nd beach we approached … The first beach was sold out … Must’ve been the fact that they had larger umbrellas.
If you know me at all, I can’t go on without mentioning the beach attire. We are in the more northern part of Italy, so nude beaches are not found as easily here as they are down in southern Italy, not to imply that we were looking for one. I mention this only as FYI since many people associate Italians and beaches with nude.
For the men, it appears as though the skimpy speedo has been replaced with board shorts, thankfully, except with the older generations. I only witnessed one “ewww, disgusting” moment when I spotted a pudgy, nerdy looking guy in his 20’s wearing a white speedo who clearly was enjoying the view, if you know what I mean. (shaking head) …
There has to be something said for the confidence of Italian women. There wasn’t a one piece bathing suit to be found, which made me glad I left mine at the apartment else I would’ve stood out like sore thumb. The style of bikini is somewhere between a thong and a traditional suit bottom. It actually looked like everone was walking around with a wedgie, except the suits were made that way. Sadly, with rare exception the only women who pulled off the look were those in their 20’s. Again, cheers to the confident Italian women proudly sporting the wedgie suits well in to their 70’s.
After a few hours of playing in the sand and water, we packed up and headed out in search of some lunch before making it to the train station. On the way we had to buy Fia a dress from one of the mercatos as we were venturing off to Pisa and her clothes were soaking wet. Once in Pisa we checked out, what else, but the leaning tower. Hugh and Vinny wanted to walk to the top but were told that the minimum age was eight, so Hugh went by himself while the kids and I hung out and waited. It was a 20 minute walk from the train station, but add in the fact that we got lost and it took us nearly an hour to find the tower. By the time we were finished there, we were again hungry but were running short on time to catch the train at a decent hour. Because the kids were still in good moods we threw caution to the wind and opted to stay for a leisurely dinner and catch the last train home.
Lesson #2 of the day: just because a train is supposed to arrive, doesn’t mean it will. Evidently, it’s optional.
We made it to the train station at 9:40, with ten minutes to spare. We determined which platform via the lit sign that said "Lucca" and proceeded to wait. And wait . And …. wait. The sign is still illuminated so surely the train would be here soon. Right? By 10:30pm it was clear there would be no train. So there we were, four smelly, sand-in-all-places, tired people with no way home. Our options were to get a hotel or find a taxi.
Hugh met an Italian woman in her 50’s who knew we didn’t speak fluent Italian, yet refused to slow down and speak so that we might understand her. We were able to discern that she needed to get to Lucca as well and wanted to share a cab at the cost of approximately ten euro per person, according to her.
Lesson #3 for the day: I should’ve learned how to say the word “bitch” in Italian.
Somewhere along the ride home my intuition told me that this lady was using us for a free ride home. The taxi came to 55 Euro and she insisted we be dropped first, which was fine with us since it was now 11pm and Fia was exhausted. We all got out of the cab and the woman refused to pay. I’m not sure what transpired next because we had two Italians yelling quite loudly and speaking very quickly such that I understood very little other than she wasn’t going to pay a dime and the driver didn’t give a shit about our agreement with her, he just wanted his money. We were screwed. But at least we were home safely.
To the old Italian lady who took advantage of us I say this: Karma will get you, you cagna!!!
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