A Day at the Beach

Since being in Italy one of the many lessons Taber and I have learned is not to trust weather forecast websites. They are almost always wrong. If weather.com was correct 95% of the time, Reggio would be under water by the amount of rain the site predicts. Despite the fact that weather.com and yahoo weather both slated thunderstorms, we decided to chance it and head to the beach in Ravenna.

Tired from a late night out, Taber and managed to roll out of bed and meet my mom, Susie, Lynnie, Chelsea, and Jake at the train station for a 7:30am departure. It was not until we were on the train that I realized the extent of our exhaustion...I had put my pants on backwards and Taber had not noticed. Being too tired to care and suspicious of what lingers in train bathrooms, backwards they remained. The first half of the train ride was uneventful, all of us going in and out of consciousness. Of course, with Taber being on bored that did not last long. He challenged us to a triceps dip competition.Using the aisle and two seats, all four of us proved to him we were capable of tricep dips, regardless of the equipment.

Upon arrival in Ravenna Jake, Chelsea, Taber, and I headed directly to the beach. My mom, Susie, and Lynnie explored Ravenna, the mosaic capital of Italy, before meeting us at the beach. I was a little apprehensive to leave them and unsure if we would meet up with them at the beach or back in Reggio. Not because I didn't think they were capable of traveling by themselves, but because I was unsure how easy it would be to meet up at the beach. With our fingers crossed we set out on different paths.

Not knowing which bus to take to the beach, Taber and Jake interrupted two teenage girls listening to their IPods, most likely Jonas Brother, and asked for directions.They informed us the correct bus to take and how much it would be. We arrived at Marina de Ravenna a short 10 minute bus ride later. Each beach "bagno" is named and numbered stretching for 34km. Again, not knowing which beach to choose for the day (too many options), we followed the two teenage girls and got off the bus when they did. We were very satisfied with their choice of beach. It was very posh, lined with white cabanas, areas for beach tennis, soccer,volleyball, a fancy bar, and a beach library.
With hundreds of sunbeds to choose from, we decided on four chairs and two umbrellas in the front row. There was nothing but the white sand and speedo wearing men standing between us and the Adriatic Sea. We are doubtful the Italian beach attire qualifies as swimsuits. Based on the States swimsuit fashion, Italian swimwear borderlines underwear/lingerie.Especially when the women pair it with heels. Yes, high heels on the beach...a twisted ankle waiting to happen. After stripping down to our suits, an employee informed us the chairs were taken by "season ticket holders". In the States we have season ticket holders for baseball, in Italy they have them for beach chairs. We were demoted to ten rows back but, thankfully, did not lose our view of speedos and the sea. We wasted little time before testing the waters of the Adriatic Sea, which were perfect.

After a couple of hours we were relieved to get a phone call from my mom to say they were on their way to the beach and needed directions. We gave her the name and number (each bagno is numbered) of the beach we were at and hoped they would make it there before sunset. Thirty minutes later she called to announce their arrival at the beach...the wrong beach. The taxi driver had dropped them off at beach number 5, we were at beach number 52. The combination of heat, long distance , Lynnie's hurt foot, and carrying their beach bags made it a displeasing walk. Upon their arrival at bango #52 they were more than ready to lounge under the sun and cool beach breeze. We were ready to call it a day at 5pm (as was our sun-drenched skin).
Taking the bus back to the train station was an experience. Without having a choice, we got extremely intimate with those to the left, right, front, and back of us. The driver and passengers were oblivious to the "maximum capacity" sign posted by the entrance. It was so crowded that I doubt a small dog would have been able to find a spot to sit. By the time we arrived at the station a majority of our nose hairs were burned from the lovely stench of hot travelers.
We arrived at the train station with enough time to not feel rushed. Let me re-word that...all of us except Susie Frank did not feel rushed. From the first time we traveled on a train with Susie it became apparent that if she had it her way, we would be at the train two hours early. If we had less than 15 minutes until the train arrived, she was sprinting to the podium. She could make it to the podium faster than the fastest man in the world, Usain Bolt, could (even without borrowing his gold shoes). Her distress did not stop once safely on the train. If we had not stopped her, she would have hunkered by the door three stops prior to our stop. Susie was afraid the train was going to stop for only 5 seconds, leaving us no time to depart and trap us on the train. We all got a good laugh from her pattern of panic, and she was a trooper to allow us to tease her.
Apparently every passenger from the bus grabbed ten friends to join them on the train, the train was crowded leaving standing room only. Again, it was very hot and sticky. Knowing these type of conditions come with traveling in Europe by train, we kept our complaints at hold. While we were standing elbow to elbow, Lynnie whipped out her portable hand fan. She went from being a body amongst the crowd to the most popular girl on the train. However somber the passengers faces remained, I know they were all thankful for some wind, regardless of the fact it was hand generated from a fancy lace fan.
We enjoyed our day at the beach and were happy we ignored weather.coms prediction of rain. The Ravenna sky remained empty of clouds all day.