August 22, 2007
I recently landed in Italy from London for some R&R and architectural discovery. Okay, and yes a bit of beach sand as well.
The wind along the northern Sardinian coast of Gallura constantly moves, its energy ever apparent. The air is tepid however, the kind that reminds you of a very early June day on Cape Cod, not a late August one in Italy.
In Capo testa, the jagged edges of the rocky cliffs jut out into the breeze-fed waves. Italian and French visitors nestle in sheltered enclaves, all of them committed to their beach umbrellas. Like determined conquerors placing flags on foreign soil, I watch an Italian tourist re-affix his umbrella pole in the stand for the third time and can't help but think, "he ain't no Marlboro man," yet this American icon never had the style of my beach subject who was scantily clad in brightly colored designer swimming gear.
These same men share their female mates' fascination with jewelry, perfumes, decadent oils, chocolate and fine wine. Leaning in together, shoulders at 90 degree angles, they review with equal interest, the standkeeper's wares, jointly deciding the best choice.
Ah yes, the lazy but engaging lifestyle of an Italian summer along the coast.
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