May 26, 2010
"...From the somptuous dawns and the sublime sunsets among the gentle breeze in the sweet scent of a thousand flowers..." Lord Byron in Sestri Levante I know -- my dead poet crush was well-traveled. It's almost as though I was his inadvertent ghost stalker, retracing all his old haunts!
J
If I am being completely honest and forthcoming, we went to Sestri Levante for the gelato. Yes, we knew it was a nice beach town and guidebooks were generous in their praise, but it was Rick Steves’ mention of a gelato place called Ice Creams’ Angels that ultimately lured us there. Part of it was sheer craving and curiosity, and part of it was simply shoulder-shrugging, “Why not?”
It was worth the spot in our itinerary. Not only was the gelato surprisingly cheap (6 Euros for big waffle cones for the four of us!) and absolutely delicious (whipped cream, sprinkles, and nutella syrup were complimentary!), but it brought back fond memories of one of my favorite forbidden TV shows of my youth. (Kris Munroe was my favorite angel. Just getting it out there.)
According to the gelato store signage done in the fashion of the vintage Charlie's Angels flaming-fire/black shadow title card, the mystery-solving, crime-fighting threesome trade in their guns for ice cream scoopers, gelato and waffle cones. After sampling the creamy frozen deliciousness, I think they might be on to something. We could probably solve a lot of the world’s problems with gelato.Sestri Levante is a beach town on a skinny little peninsula with a main street or two running its length down the middle, and flanked with bays and beachy shoreline on either side. On the one side is the Bay of Silence (allegedly the poetic inspiration for Lord Byron) and on the other, the Bay of Fairy Tales (named after fairy tale writer Hans Christian Anderson who visited in 1833).
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| The town still celebrates Anderson every year with a fairy tale festival, seeking out the best unpublished fables. |
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| Bay of Fairy Tales -- aka the local public beach |
What mom would take her kids to a beach town and not think to take swimsuits, towels or other such items? Umm… that would be me. I had pictured a leisurely walk along the boardwalk and beachfront, maybe taking a few pictures of the bays-- but no swimming. Nevertheless,
the second the kids saw the soft warm sand and the gorgeous blue water they wanted in. I balked. At first they were content to walk on the sand; then they got to the edge where the sand was wet and just oh-so-tempting… and the begging began. "Please, mom? Just a little bit? Just up to my knees? Please, mom? Can I get my skirt wet?"
At first I was unyielding. After all, we came to eat gelato and to explore the town, not play at the beach and go in the water. Their clothes would get wet and dirty. And then I remembered they are kids. And even more importantly, I remembered I had a washing machine! I paid a man 3 Euros to use an abandoned lounge chair belonging to his beach-front bar… and settled in. Then I told the kids to go for it – to just swim in their clothes. They looked at each other. They were confused. Who WAS this fun version of their mom and where did the real one go? I told them again, “Go ahead. Jump in! Get wet!” Still, blank stares and no movement. They were wondering if this was a trick. I sighed. I added, “But we don’t have towels, and you are going to be cold later when your clothes are all wet, so I don’t want to hear any complaining. Stay where I can see you. And try not to get your hair wet.” Ahh…. That’s more like it -- it really was their mom. So off they went. 
As I sat and watched my kids frolic in the sea, a man approached with a backpack of silver jewelry and knelt down on the sand to spread out his wares in spite of my “not interested” protests. It was a good tactical move on his part, because I soon found myself trying on rings and necklaces and negotiating prices on an intricately designed silver ring and a gorgeous silver-link-and-teal-stone necklace. The man’s name was Amir, and even after our transaction was long completed he sat and talked to me. I got the feeling that he was glad for an excuse to take a break, and didn’t often get a chance to have a real conversation beyond the sales pitch exchange. He told me that he was trying to support his wife and children in Bangladesh by working with his uncles in Italy and sending money back to his family. His English was good, but heavily accented and there were times when I had no idea what he was saying. But he persisted and when he rose to go a good while later he seemed genuinely pleased to have met me, and we parted ways as unlikely friends.
I summoned my soaking wet children and we walked the short distance across town to the Bay of Silence (which became far less silent with the arrival of my noisy chatty brood), and later meandered back the train station to catch our ride back to Deiva Marina. As we walked back to our apartment, I saw our foccacia shop friend Lella on the street and she stopped me to deliver an important message. Through an animated and rousing game of charades I finally figured out what she was trying to tell me: the store would be closed on Thursday, but I would be able to come get my foccacia fix on Friday. Ahhh. I was happy for the information. She already knew me so well. J
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| Bay of Silence |
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