Bikes, Boats and Bodies

After a six hour formula-one race against Macho men on vacation, we collapsed into Viareggio, Northern Tuscany. Our friends had kindly loaned us their apartment for the week, which is on a busy, picture-postcard canal lined with an array of colourful boats. We tiptoed out of the car like a family of crabs, trying not to fall in.

We were in the aromatic mosh pit at the heart of Viareggio. Wafts of garlic from restaurants, fishermen’s fresh catch, their not-so-fresh nets hanging out to dry in the sun, coconut oil, sweat, paint, and sawdust from tradesmen working outside because of the heat.

Bicycles are the popular mode of transport in Viareggio. Our friends had left us two adult bikes, and we spotted two kids bikes for sale on the road. 

A tall man with grey hair stood on the street, sanding a wooden table. He was wearing work shorts and a white singlet top. The type with tiny holes all over. His wife sat at a table next to him, chopping vegetables. We inquired about the bikes in sign language. The tall man looked up to someone and screamed out in Italian.

A head poked out from the 3rd floor balcony, as one of the locals got up off his red plastic coca-cola chair and looked down. All he had on was a pair of baggy white underpants. A cigarette dangled from his mouth. Peering down at us, he nodded three times. We took it to mean, “I’ll be right down”.

By the time The Undies Man came downstairs, he had put on shorts, but no shirt. He was stocky and heavily-tanned, and bore an elaborate tattoo of Jesus on his upper arm. A quick handshake sufficed as an introduction, as he wasted no time in demonstrating the bikes. 

Like a kid, The Undies Man cocked his leg over bike number one, and animatedly hooned up the middle of the road. Peddling wildly, he stood up and performed a number of wheelies.The entertainment value was high, I had to hold back tears of laughter. For the finale, he sped towards us, and came to a screeching halt, beads of sweat bouncing off him, and onto us. The show wasn’t over yet, bike number two endured the same treatment, and we gave him a standing ovation. The children were ecstatic, and the sale was made. 

On the bike circuit, there were no limitations on age, attire or passenger load. It was not uncommon to see a grandmother with her grandchildren, and a few live chickens, all on the one bike. I could put my hair in rollers, squeeze on a pair of stilettos, throw a dog in the basket and my husband over the handle bars, and take off down the street. No one would blink an eyelid. 

Like pictures in a European glossy magazine, the beaches were lined with brightly colored umbrellas and sun beds as far as the eye could see. Body pride took on a new meaning here, surpassing the results of every confidence workshop I have ever undertaken. Beach goers of every shape and size were on display, leaving very little to the imagination. To blend in, would entail numerous visits to a tattoo parlor, piercing den, sun bed studio, and Brazilian waxer. Ouch!

After getting berated in a foreign language (as per usual) we learnt you can’t just plonk yourself down under an umbrella. The beach is divided into sections that are privately owned and operated. Each section has a cafe, bar, showers, and various levels of entertainment. Having fun in the sun costs, the beach is business.   

We spent a day at "b2k", where, as well as the beach, we had access to 5 different swimming pools, a gymnasium, restaurant, beauty parlor, bar, cafe, and WIFI. Pole position for people-watching is highly prized - don't move someone's beach umbrella an inch (as I made Rob), or you risk the wrath of an irate body builder in bikini bottoms! http://www.b2k.it/eng/beach.asp 

After spending a day exploring a village in the Cinque Terre, we stopped for a gelato, before boarding the ferry back to Viareggio. At the gelateria, I noticed a lady sitting at a table with someone, and had to do a double take. Then I realised that the someone was a dog, a big hairy dog. They looked like husband and wife. The lady held up a freshly scooped, double gelato cone, and gave her companion first lick! With their eyes hanging out, and fingers pointing, our children asked if the lady had bought the gelato especially for her dog, or were they sharing? Turned out they were sharing.

The Coca-Cola chair

Cinque Tere

The view from the balcony in Viareggio at different times of day