The Big Getaway - Part four - The resort

Lido de Jesolo is a big place. It stretches, I am told for 18 km along the coast of Italy, but I only saw perhpas three or four miles of it. For a country that is in a recession I would have to say it is fairing well, at least along this part of the coast. The resort has three parallel streets, running the length, the foremost being the beach front, running parallel to that is the main street with all the shops, hotels, bars and businesses, and behind that the working part of the street with housing and a bus route, and where the bin men come and go. The shopping street is apparently thriving, and in contrast to the stark and boarded up shops here in the UK every single shop seemed to be let and doing good business. The street works like this - it is one way for cars etc, but the other side of the street operates as a two way cycle track, on which you can ride a bike, golf cart, electric scooter, motor scooter skateboard, four wheel bike - anything it would seem that is not a car. At 9 p.m cars are forbidden and the whole street becomes a free for all for pedestrians and anything other than a car. This state of organised anarchy remains allegedly until 0600 when cars are allowed back again. Police tow away cars parked illegally after 8 pm. But ignore noisy delivery trucks which breach the no cars bar from 0200 onwards.
All this however is fine. What is much more of an affront to the British holidaymaker is the dress code. I appreciate it is hot. I appreciate it is foreign, so the usual rules don't apply. But it is somewhat of a shock to the system to see people walking about in the Italian equivalent of Woolworths wearing just a bikini or a pair of speedos. The Germans were most guilty of this. The sheer impracticality of this amazes me. With nothing more than a pair of speedos, exactly where do you keep your money for an Ice cream? Okay the can check in their room key at the hotel, but personally I don't feel that comfortable without a few quid or Euros, a wallet, keys, mobile phone etc on me, and to be honest it's just not the British way to be out in public without a T shirt at the very least, and if you are in company, well it's a proper shirt with a collar really. I'm prepared to relax and fore go a tie, but there are limits of decency, dontcha know. Not that I'm a prude. I was quite happy for the young ladies to parade their lithe young bodies in skimpy bikinis and one pieces, not quite so happy to see the athletic young German men in their speedos and to be honest I was quite upset to see some of the British women following suit. I'd have to say I was downright offended by the middle aged women parading their cellulite and their pudgy white fat legs and the fat German men somehow squeezed into tiny speedos. I felt quite overdressed in my knee length swim shorts. But my distaste turned to horror when I saw "Fat German Woman" and "Oversize Italian Mamma" in their swimsuits. Just how many Lycra had to be killed to make those outfits? I swear the tide would have had to ask permission to come in when they were on the beach. These must be women with no friends - anyone with an ounce of compassion would have told them - "Don't, just don't wear that! Wear the big baggy bin liner dress. it suits you better." Yet these women walked around without a care, whilst I walked around feeling self conscious in my T shirt and baggy shorts, holding my stomach in.
The fashion accessory to be had appeared to be a small dog. you may only be wearing a bikini, but you had to also have a dog and a handbag to carry it in. This applied equally in Verona and Venice. The smaller the dog, the better it seemed; if it fit in a handbag you'd got it right. In 10 days I didn't see a single proper dog, they were all pedigree handbag dogs. And not a single one was capable of unassisted walking - they were all carried, and despite the heat, many were clothed. yet there was no dog shit anywhere.
This would be on account of the highly efficient beach cleansing team. During the night, a team of guys would arrive with machines that sifted the sand, removing any litter, stones, debris, dog shit, used condoms etc and left a smooth and clean layer of white sand bereft of footprints or sign of human contamination, ready to be sullied again the next day. At the same time the street cleaners would be out emptying bins and sweeping the shopping street, leaving that spotless for the new dawn. I didn't observe a single piece of litter whilst I was there, it was amazing to see every one using the bins provided. Had this been Scarborough you couldn't have moved for greasy chip papers after nine o'clock. In Lido de Jesolo you could probably have eaten you're dinner off the street. Well to be fair, in Scarborough you could probably eat your dinner off the streets, but the context is different. I can only assume that the local taxes are so high because they are paying for all this, and that is why you are paying 2 euros for a coke.
Either that or there is a tax on sunshine. The sun shone incessantly for the entire holiday, only the Friday spoiling it with the appearance of a small white cloud. My son, Thomas pointed this out as we got off the coach after a day trip out, and the sighting caused much consternation amongst the locals. I almost expected the National Guard would be called out. In the end it did not rain, it did not get cold and it was not at all like Britain.
I'd have to conclude by saying the resort was rather nice - it was just too full of fat Italians and Germans.