Via XX Settembre is still empty all though a few early risers have already begun to call at the bakery. From the balcony I hear their conversations. At this time in the morning the owner has time to talk to the customers. They talk of the funeral of the politician, Francesco Cossiga, the recent bad weather and the fact that she has had no delivery of bombaloni’s this morning. She speaks with the local accent which goes up and down like bird song.
Of all her customers it is the old man in his straw hat that is instantly recognizable. He usually arrives a little later and stands at the entrance. He has a loud playful voice and when he says bonjourno, it carries with a playful happiness. Like all her customers after collecting his ticket he will stand just outside the shop waiting his turn and as he waits he keeps up a constant flow of conversation.
There are two of them in the bakery and they complement each other. The younger of the two is a cheerful red faced woman who I guess is in her thirties and she jokes with the customers, sometimes following them out to finish some humorous conversation. Today this is accompanied with that classic Italian arm gesture which I suppose is the equivalent of the two fingers, but it is done with a wide beam and enormous chuckle. As you would expect from someone selling food she is always immaculately dressed in yellow headscarf and blouse, green skirt and white apron. Her companion is more sober, always polite but her face and manner is more pinched more reserved.
The bakery is ever present. The smell of the bread wafts up from the shop and when the windows are open permeates the apartment.
Behind me the fountain in the little piazza is particularly noisy, but I guess that is because it is just after 7 and there are few people and very little traffic to crowd out the sound of the water as it spouts into the air before falling back.
I am always impressed with the idea of the piazza. In the towns they are a welcome surprise and are often encountered at the end of one of those many narrow streets where the houses rise four stories and remain dark all day. You walk along these streets and then suddenly they open onto a wide space, full of light, fresh air and in most cases a fountain.
Here we have plenty of them but the real jewel in Viareggio is its park, or I should say parks for there are two both as stunning as each other. You approach them via a complex of busy streets and immediately you are hit with cool fresh air. They are quite stunning, consisting of a broad tree lined avenue that runs through the heart of the park. Along this main thoroughfare there is a countless procession of people. Most are on bikes, some on their own but many riding as family units. Often the children perch precariously on the back and some even sit in the basket at the front. If it is possible to amble on a bike that is what they do, and the purpose of the journey is notI think to have a purpose. They glide past, nodding to friends and shouting out to those who choose instead to sit on one of the many benches.
There are a number of places along the way where you can hire the bikes. They offer all sorts from the four wheeled canvas topped family affair to tandems, and more conventional bikes. There is even a range of custom made ones which sport small wheels, a long body and a low slung seat which allow the young to imagine they are Mr Zippy as they career past the more sedate riders.
Pictures; from the collection of Andrew Simpson
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