August in Italy: from the frying pan to the Bonfire?

Domenica di agosto, che caldo fa! La spiaggia è un girarrosto… (Sunday in August, it’s so hot! The beach is a rotisserie…) That’s how every conversation starts here in August — half complaint, half love letter to summer. The sand is basically a frying pan by ten in the morning, and everyone is already negotiating shade with a beach umbrella the size of a small tent.

By late morning, someone always suggests going on a countryside outing (fare una scampagnata), just to escape the crowds packed shoulder to shoulder on the shore. We pile into cars with too little air conditioning and drive inland, where the air smells like pine and dust instead of sunscreen.

Evenings are the real reward. As the heat finally loosens its grip, we take a little walk (fare due passi) along whichever street looks least crowded, mostly as an excuse to have a little chat (fare quattro chiacchiere) with neighbours we haven’t seen since June. Conversations drift from the price of tomatoes to who’s getting married in September, and nobody is in a hurry to end them.

Later, the real ritual begins: a stroll along the seafront (fare una passeggiata sul lungomare), gelato in hand, watching the sky turn the color of a peach. If we’re lucky, someone knows a spot where we can light a bonfire (fare il falò) right on the sand, and the night turns into a slow, smoky gathering with friends playing guitar around the bonfire. The night of Ferragosto (August 15th) is a holiday for everyone, so people end up staying up until very late in the night — one of those nights when the sky is already starting to lighten by the time you finally get home.

No summer evening is complete without a barbecue of meat or fish, if you are by the sea (fare una grigliata di carne o di pesce), the smell drifting everywhere until everyone has “accidentally” wandered over for a taste.

And then, on the night of 10th August, there’s San Lorenzo sotto le stelle (Saint Lawrence under the stars) — the night when shooting stars streak across the sky and everyone makes wishes they’ll pretend not to remember by morning.

The next afternoon, of course, comes l’abbiocco (that heavy, food-drowsy sleepiness), and there’s only one cure: fare una pennichella (take a little nap), preferably in a hammock, preferably for far too long.

Originally shared on LinkedIn.