I know I may sound old, but the more I grow up the more I realize two things: the first one is that I am loving being an adult and being aware of my awareness, the second one is that you should not follow anyone’s advice or, better said, you should only listen to those two or three people that you really trust.
“Are you going to Jesolo? What are you going to do there?”
“Come on, it is such an ugly place!”
“The water is so bad!”
Just to mention some comments.
A few days ago I went all the way to Cavazuccherina (this is how Jesolo used to be called back in the past).
I decided to try FlixBus and BlaBlacarfor the first time – trains are way too expensive these days.
After a few adventures – including an American girl lying on me and an Indian gal sleeping on my left shoulder – Jesolo was just as I expected: calm, quiet, and almost empty. Jesolo seemed to be waiting. For the rain to fall, for visitors to arrive, for people to have fun.
I think it told me something like: “Lucia, we are all set. The food is ready, we are just waiting for our guests to join us”.
I have been walking a lot by myself smiling away and noticing fun details on my way, like streets dedicated to Federica Pellegrini and Mara Venier, allowing my heart to melt every time I saw those old hotel buildings so perfectly organized, the sand so squashy and smooth, just like a lock full of conditioner.
I can spot some obsession in that attempt to achieve perfection.
“Hopefully the rain will stop soon otherwise we won’t have any tourist around…”
To be honest I hope that it will never stop raining so I can enjoy the view of the promenade with a few old ladies sitting here and there, some men playing bocce and some young guys drinking beers wearing hoodies and flip flops with the sand stuck under their feet, just as if it was sugar on jelly candies.
Nostalgia. Beauty, endless joy.
Melancholy. Fruit for thoughts.
Seeing all those disconnected buildings rooting to the sand and kissing the sky made me feel like keep walking to see more of it.
In Jesolo every hotel has a different shape, style, and architecture. It feels like going back to the Sixties and Seventies.
Rimini, Hotel Leopardi, Ivan, so many hotels, colorful umbrellas, pasta with tomato sauce. Everything was the same.
The Italian way of spending the holiday. Rimini is just like Jesolo. It is history. It is the story that reflects how Italians used to spend their holidays, the way they enjoyed their free time and how they used to spend their money (lot of money).
Forget about bed and breakfast or Airbnb. Everything was inclusive and people had dinner all together. If you arrive late to the buffet you won’t find any food left.
There are still game rooms where you can see some kids playing happily. Their parents belong to my generation. They grew up playing in game rooms and they don’t want their child to be addicted to smartphones. They would rather make him ride a colorful horse.
There are still phone booths around, but grandma doesn’t call anyone.
Shops sell beach towels, the scent of chemical coconut in sunscreens, ice creams, and granitas.
Jesolo, just like Rimini, is underestimated.
“I used to go there with my parents…”
“It is just for tourists”
“I wouldn’t go there”
And everyone becomes intellectual.
Here you can find the story of a holiday lifestyle.
“Are there old signs around?” I ask the hotel owner.
Fifteen seconds later he says: “I have never noticed”.
Is it maybe what influencers are supposed to do? Showing things under a different point of view, helping people to simply see things.
Beauty is always around us, and we all have our standards. To me beauty is connected to the past.
Should influencers show it in order to make it more visible?
Oh no, maybe that is what marketing is about.
I will go back to Jesolo soon and I can’t wait to enjoy more colors, more humans, and more pieces of concrete cutting the sky without hurting it.
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