August in Italy

We went to Anzio for the afternoon. Parking was a challenge—the public car park was easy enough to find, but the cars had were only approximately in spaces, and any available road between them had been parked on, and although there were spaces that fit our cars, getting into them was an art. But we (not me) managed to manoeuvre into them. We left them, sitting in the blaring sunshine absorbing heat, and hoped no one would park any closer before we returned. Driving in Italy takes guts. I am happy to remain a passenger.

Anzio is our nearest town. We are about an hour from Rome by train, and we have rented a villa for a week, on the edge of the town. The edge is rather smelly, with fast roads and narrow walkways and lots of litter, bins stuffed with dirty nappies and paths strewn with dog mess. The villa is lovely, with a pretty garden and a pool and air conditioner. I decided, after an early walk along the stinky path to the beach, that I would mostly stay at the villa. But the offer of a port, and an ice-cream, tempted me to join the family. Anzio town centre is much nicer than its edges. There is less stink, and more pretty cobbled streets, and old buildings with balconies full of plants. 

We walked to the port. There was a little harbour with boats. I like boats (as long as I don’t have to go on them—then I am less keen). We found a cafe, selling ice creams and espressos, and sat in the shade. An exciting tray of treats arrived, the sun was shining (but not on us) and we sat, watching people walk past. This is one of my favourite things. Coffee, ice-cream, family. Perfect. I also, weirdly, wished that I smoked—not to actually inhale the nicotine, but just the action, the having something to fiddle with; I am of the generation when smoking was something daring, that the naughty kids at school did, a grown-up thing. We discussed the possibility of sending a son to buy a packet—just to light one and hold it and look like a grown-up (I like looking like a grown-up occasionally) but then decided it was daft, and probably something I should have outgrown by now. I settled for coffee, and felt very happy.

We then used the facilities. This is an important point if you are female (it seems to trouble males less). When you are a tourist, finding suitable loos can be a challenge, and a full bladder takes the edge off the day. I have a friend who told me to always use a toilet when one is available, because you never know when you will next have the opportunity, and I feel this is good advice. You never know. Especially in Italy, which seems to have a scarcity of public conveniences and charges you a euro to use them.  (Plus, they are often dirty, which makes me wonder whether I can ask for a refund, but I don’t have enough Italian to ask.)

We then walked across town, to see the villa where Nero (of the Rome burning fame) was born. I was probably the most enthusiastic one for this (I think the rest of the family wanted to go shopping—not my genes) and I led the way. It was a hot walk. Italy, in August, saps your strength, and even the promise of a Roman villa is barely enough motivation for walking too far. There were mutterings from behind, so I walked slightly ahead, and pretended I couldn’t hear. (This has proved an excellent parenting strategy over the years.)

The guidebook had promised the clear remains of a huge villa, with no information signs but also no restrictions. Therefore visitors could wander freely through the remains, imagining how it had been in past times, enjoying the same view that the boy Nero would have seen, recreating rooms in our minds. In the event, it was all behind a fence. It seems that the cliff is falling down, and no one is paying to preserve it, therefore the villa has become unsafe. We could peer at it from the road, and  be impressed by its size, but it was not as enthralling as I had hoped. The family were polite.

Never mind, we will spend a day in Rome while we’re here, and that never disappoints. We returned to the cars, and were able to prise them from their spaces, and opened the windows so we didn’t cook. Our own villa, and pool, beckoned, and it had been a lovely excursion. 

Thanks for reading. I will share more of our Italy holiday in another blog. Hopefully you will be reading it in more comfortable temperatures.

Hope you have a good week. Take care.

Love, Anne x