Monday, December 18, 2017

Walking (and Eating!) the Waterfront, Somewhere in Italy . . . .

 Simple pleasures here on the coast of Italy, somewhere in Lazio province. . . After the Little Ex-Pat heads off to daycare, we're off-duty until pick-up time in the late afternoon (on the weekend, the four of us -- son-in-law, g'daughter, Pater and I -- adventured together; perhaps more on that later). We're not yet ready to try heading into Rome for the day, nervous about getting back before the daycare closes its doors for the day.
 But there are some pleasant local walks, such as this one along the working waterfront, and you can see that Pater has had to be patient as I indulged my fascination with the industrial aesthetics of well-worn fishing gear.
 There's a sad, even tawdry, beauty about the faded plastic colours of these late-modern industrial materials that we all know now are degrading into the oceans of the world, being consumed by the fish -- which we're catching in greater and greater numbers because these contemporary materials are too efficient.
 So my admiration for this evidence of human labour, skill, centuries of tradition twisted into its 21st-century manifestation, is conflicted, to say the very least. (We've watched fishermen mend their nets along this promenade, shouting back and forth to each other as they darn, just as their forebears must have done long ago.)
But it's there, no denying it, that admiration. Fascination, even . . . .


 Less conflicted, I must admit, about eating the catch in a nearby restaurant. . . I think we could get used to this routine -- a long walk or bike ride in the morning, a leisurely lunch, some quiet time back home, and then the pick-up of the Little Ex-Pat.
Today, we're going to check out the local bike routes, and see what appetites we work up and what eatery we'll choose to satisfy them. A tough gig. . .

And you, my readers, you will all be busy, busy, busy with myriad Christmas preparations. Don't forget to breathe. . . And be sure to check in tomorrow, if you can find a minute -- I have something fun for you (at least, I had fun writing the post, and I'm hoping you'll enjoy reading it).

5 comments:

  1. So very true - fishing nowadays has become industrial, with huge nets emptying the ocean. My grandparents were from a fishing family on the North coast of Scotland. The trawlers were tiny. No radar with which to find the shoals of fish, or radio to call for help. No plastic nets or boxes. The women mended the heavy nets. When prawns, lobster or mackerel were found in the nets they were thrown back in the water - the first two because there was no market for them, the mackerel because the fishermen believed they were scavengers and ate the bodies of drowned sailors. Now the trawlers are like factory ships.

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    1. That was interesting Linda , I have some fishing ancestors too . What a tough life they had . Those old ropes are very photogenic Frances .
      Wendy in York

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  2. So romantic to live a quasi-normal life in another land.

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  3. I just read your previous post about that magical train ride through the Alps, and now this. Your routine sounds so lovely there in Italy. I'm off to check out the train website; I've never heard of it before.

    Plastic - a scourge upon the ocean - and how to stop it?

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  4. Loving how even the simplest jaunts contain their adventure, texture and colour.

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I'd love to hear your response to my post. Agree, disagree, even go off on a tangent, I love to know you're out there, readers. Let's chat, shall we? I apologize, though, for the temporary necessity of the Word Verification -- spam comments have been tiresomely numerous lately, and I'm hoping to break that pattern.

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