Lignano: Seaside

We arrived at the beach just after 13:30 to clear blue skies, course dark sand, and row upon row of umbrellas as far as the eye can see. We lay our towels between a portable gelati stand and paddle boat rentals; slide or diving platform optional. You can rent a plethora of water toys here. Parasails and surfboards to my right, inflatable rafts on the left. Even though the beach is crowded, shallow, flat waters and calm breezes leave nearly half unattended.

A man passes with both arms covered in beach towels offering them for a small fee. He approaches two German women showing off his goods. Long towels, extra large square ones, and ones from stripes and prints. A salesman, he won't take no for an answer. First the women deny him, then they begin to haggle. They're pleased. They've reduced the price from 20 euro (maybe 15, my German is rusty) to 10. "Good deal," we congratulate them. Shortly after, a man passes with a board of sunglasses, but isn't as eager to sell.

Lignano is welcoming, prepared or not.

As I sit reading, a rather large man approaching 55 and wearing floral shorts gallops to the shore with a blue and grey body raft in his arms. A thin women, 15 years his junior, in a small suit chases after holding an inflatable shark above her head. Like children at the beach for the first time, their expressions are full of glee. I watch closely as they charge the water. I can't help but hope she hops onto the shark as if she's riding it like a show whale, but, sadly, she just hangs over it. This must be something only American kids and late twenty-somethings do in the comforts of their private pool.

By this time, the gelati truck has made it's way down the beach moving on when business becomes slow. Another truck rolls up just when the sun beams too bright. An older gentleman pulls it along, while a young boy rides along side. Ice cream, snacks, and sodas tempt my taste buds as the truck conveniently blocks my view of the ocean. As a line forms, the young boy jumps on the side rail and fetches treats.

The water murky and full of weeds, but refreshing on such a hot day. The tide must be out. It's no more than four feet deep quite a ways out. At least as far as I'm comfortable swimming, which being from Florida, is far from shore.

By mid-afternoon the beach is swarming with people of all nationalities on holiday. We can hear at least four languages, understanding not one.

Warm waters, topless women, chiseled men (some the very opposite) in speedos and two teenagers chanting USA, USA, USA as we left; just another day on an Italian beach.