The Italian beach follows rules that aren’t written down anywhere.
Between the parasol and the espresso, a routine unfolds here that has hardly changed for generations. Some scenes repeat themselves day after day, almost to the minute. If you look closely, you can recognise Italians on the beach even before they say a word.
1. The regular spot
The same stretch of sand, for decades, no questions asked. The lifeguard greets you by name; the neighbours have known three generations of the family. If you put your parasol a metre out of place, you’ll still be hearing about it weeks later.
2. Nonna’s kit
The parasol is older than many a wedding ring and just as indestructible. Add to that sun loungers, a folding table, a cool bag – and perhaps a radio. By the end, half the flat’s furnishings are lying in the sand; elegance was never the aim.
Off to the beach
3. Espresso on the go
A coffee from a paper cup, sipped whilst looking out to sea, between two laps of the pool. You stand on the sidelines, watching the others come and go. The espresso is finished in no time, but you often linger for longer.
Emilia-Romagna: Cuisine & Motorsport
4. Ceremony by the water
Jumping in headfirst – that’s something only tourists do. First the arms, then the neck, then – with a touch of drama – the rest of the body. Once you’ve got past the initial chill, you rarely carry on swimming. You stand there, chest-deep in the water, and carry on conversations for hours on end – conversations that began in the morning and, by the afternoon, still feel as though they’re not over.
5. Endless racchettoni
Clack-clack-clack, all along the beach, for hours on end. A game of beach tennis only ends when the people under the next parasol pack away their rackets. And they’re rarely in a hurry.
Why coffee is drunk differently in different places
6. Mum’s sun cream routine
Putting on sun cream isn’t just a chore – it’s a ritual. Every two hours, generously, with a mother’s unwavering determination. Even if you’re forty and your mum’s still at the beach, you still don’t put it on yourself.
7. Lunchtime banquet with a towel
One box is opened, then the next, then another. Watermelon, roasted peppers, aubergines, a mountain of tomato salad, interspersed with panini and yesterday’s pizza slices, which taste just as good today. When feeding six people, we always pack enough for twelve – you never know who might pop round. Once the parade of delicacies has begun, it goes on for at least 90 minutes.
8. Making phone calls now and then
When they’re not taking a siesta, playing racchettoni or eating, they’re on the phone. To Nonna, who didn’t come along today. To a football mate, about the match this evening. With the second cousin, whose girlfriend’s birthday is actually today – or was it yesterday? With the neighbour, who’s asked to pop round and check if the driveway’s blocked by parked cars. Every conversation ends with the same phrase: ‘tutto a post’. Even on the beach, we’re up to date.
A 1,000-euro fine for reserving a spot on the beach












