Sometimes things just come together to create this perfect harmonious moment, one of which I am trying to capture in words right now. We’re at a beach in Lavagna and I’m all set on my sunbed under an umbrella, with a bottle of Corona, a bag of salty seasamy seed crackers, a dumb pulp fiction book and having nowhere to go for three or four hours. I’m watching my family trying to drown each other in the warm Mediterranean after taking a dip myself. Doesn’t get much better than this.
The district reminds me of the Black sea coast of the Caucasus where I’d spend all my summers as a kid. The smells of the southern vegetation, the salty air, the heat. Now it’s my children’s turn to spend hours in the water and bless them, they can do whatever they like: get their hair wet, dive, run, scream, yes it’s all very ok. I’m erasing the sentence where I complain about my parents not letting me do stuff, because they did the best they knew and, well, I did survive until reproducing age myself, so.. Besides I’m sure my children will have things to complain about, too.
The beach is occupied by the locals, well, Italians anyway. All the tourist traffic goes to Cinque Terre which we saw yesterday. The lifeguard is teaching my boys to launch each other up in the air… (in other words, to be more efficient about drowning each other)
Gotta go, though: Lydia found some bread butter and jam in her bottomless bag, that should go well with the salt water taste in my mouth.