Beach Bumming Italian Style

In general, I would not call myself a beach bum. I like the beach, I enjoy going from time to time, but having grown up in the northeast where the beach season is short, the sand is coarse and the water is freakin' freezing, I would not say I have a particularly strong need to hit the beach regularly. That might be about to change...

For the past 2 Sundays, Val and I have headed for the coast. To Viareggio, which is on the northwest coast of Italy. It's not super-close to Florence but it's quite easy to get there, a simple 1.5 hour train ride that costs about $8 each way. No sitting in traffic, no fighting for the right to pay $25 to park, no balancing chairs, coolers and beach bags for 2 miles to get from your car to the sand.

Most Italians we've talked to turn up their noses at Viareggio, citing dirty water and overcrowded beaches as reasons to head for other coastal towns that are not readily accessible by train. I've heard people say that it's a little cheesy, not as picturesque and classy as some of the other options. So my expectations were low the first time we set foot in Viareggio and followed the smell of salt water over to the beach. I had visions of Hampton Beach or Hyannis bouncing around my brain.

Those naysayers need to spend some time in either of those towns before they utter another bad word about Viareggio. I love it there.

To start, there is none of that real estate prospecting that goes on at American beaches. You know what I'm talking about: you get to the beach around 10am, stake out the perfect location equidistant from water's edge, bathroom and snack bar, and no sooner do you lay out your towel, here comes the family of 10 who park themselves 5 feet from you, oblivious to the acres of empty sand around you. They have their giant umbrella, pulsating boom box and team of screaming kids just panting at the chance to kick sand all over you. By noon the beach is no longer visible as it's been covered over by multiplying umbrellas, plastic beach toys and inflatable alligator rafts.

No no... here they do it right. The whole beach is set up into beach "clubs" where you pay a relatively small fee for an umbrella and chairs that are set up in orderly rows with respectable distances around them. There are nice little walkways leading down the rows to your little parcel of sand. The fee also means that you can get food from their snack bar (not free, of course), use the bathrooms, and shower off at the end of the day. [For extra money you can have a little dressing room but who needs that, really.] It's GREAT.

Next is the water. I don't know what the issue is for Italians but the water in Viareggio is perfect, at least from this New Englander's point of view. It's refreshing without being a shock to the system when you walk in, warm without feeling like salty bathwater. You can wade far out without getting too deep, the waves are just enough to be fun without being scary. They say it's dirty but when you scoop up a handful, it's crystal clear. There might be a little silt right at the water's edge that's been brought in by the waves but it's nothing compared to the slimy tumbling seaweed of the beaches I've known. You could stay in it for hours.

Finally is the people watching. Most beaches have good people watching, even those in the States, so maybe there's a tie on this one. What is sort of nice about the crowds at Viareggio is that there is a bit more of a range than the Italian population of Florence. Here in the city, the vast majority of Italians are thin, fashionable and beautiful. Not so in Viareggio. Wide-ranging body types abound, and I mean WIDE. And it's quite true that many of the men here wear Speedos. Too many men, if you know what I mean... it's not the buff youngsters who are sporting them. But the point is that you can go there as shape or size, in any type of bathing suit and feel perfectly at ease.

So I've been converted: I am now a beach bum. I might just quit my job and move there. If you need me you know where I'll be. Just remember to bring your Speedo.

* Photos taken by my fabulous friend Val

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