The variety of the winding Tuscan coastline along the Ligurian sea ranges from the sandy beaches of the northern area known as Versilia through pebbly and rocky beaches at Marina di Pisa, and actual rock cliffs at Livorno and Castiglioncello, to the bright white soft sandy beaches at Rossignano Solvay, to long dark sandy beaches from San Vincenzo to Grossetto, and below Piombino and the Island of Elba, where it changes to the Tirrenian sea, past the peninsula of Orbetello, Porto Ercole and the archipelago Toscano.
A few hour’s train ride from home, past Livorno where the view suddenly opens to vast vistas of rugged coast and sea, a few stops later is the small seaside town of San Vincenzo, a long sandy beach my objective. A pleasant, well kept town, the architecture of which ranges from early 20th century Liberty style to contemporary, painted predominantly in warm hues of yellows and orange, and white. A well maintained main street with a dedicated bike lane, shops, restaurants, cafes, and gelaterie, past a surprising heart warming dark red bougainvillea as I hadn’t seen in years, brought me to the hotel, which was modern, colorful and clean, with a tropical feel, surrounded by the sounds and scent of the sea.
The room had a small balcony and an oblique view of the sea. I checked in at mid-afternoon on a warm day and immediately went for a long walk barefoot on the sandy shoreline with the waves washing over my feet, and the delightful sea and breeze muffled sounds of happy children, conversation, and seagulls.
My first objective wonderfully gratified, I stopped at the bar, on the terrace in front of the hotel with its unobstructed view, for a glass of classic crisp Tuscan Vermentino and stuzzichini of squares of focaccia with thin slices of prosciuto crudo or cheese, and olives and stared at the horizon and imagined, were the earth flat, I would be looking at the New England coastline of my childhood.
After that sufficient light supper, I walked into town to a gelateria signed artisanal for two rich, but not too sweet, generous scoops of ice cream.
On the way back to the hotel the sun set in a cloud striated red sky. The spectacular scene a perfect end to a first getaway evening in mid September after a long hot summer. With an Irish whiskey nightcap from the pleasant receptionist, I returned to the room.
I realized then that the visible hotel sign at night, while neither neon nor flashing, was just too bright, and that convinced me to change rooms in the morning, which I did with uncompromising ease and simplicity. They even offered to transfer my things themselves.
After a simple breakfast I slipped on my swimsuit and pareu and walked along the shore to an area free of canvas loungers and umbrellas, left the pareu on the sand and went for a long- anticipated swim. The sea was calm and the water temperature like sliding into cool silk. I passed the better part of an hour in the water and spent a few minutes longer on the beach.
Back in the hotel, showered and refreshed, I then headed to another restaurant for a seafood pasta lunch, with a terrace over the sea where I watched a few boats on the horizon and, nearer to shore, an experienced swimmer smoothly swimming in a perfectly straight line parallel to the shoreline.
After lunch another long walk on the beach, some reading with just the sound of the sea in the background and eventually a repeat of the light apericena supper followed by a different flavor, but equally delicious, gelato of the night before.
On my way back to the hotel the sky had clouded over. The weather was about to change. On the street in front of the hotel there was an ambulance, lights flashing. A crowd had gathered at the parapet overlooking the beach and there were medical personnel on the beach below.
Someone had fallen ill, the receptionist compassionately answered my query. A whiskey nightcap in hand, I went up to the room to read.
The room itself had been recently renovated, modern, light and clean. Crisp white sheets on the bed and touches of texture in the bedspread and a wall of a muted shade of intense blue lent warmth to what might otherwise have been a stark interior.
I stepped out onto the balcony to find the onlookers at the sidewall and EMTs still below. They were vigorously performing CPR on a fairly large patient lain on the sand parallel with the sea. A medevac helicopter arrived stirring up the sand and causing the personnel to cover their heads and faces. Two EMTs were lowered with their medical case. The helicopter hovered just far enough away not to disturb the proceedings, but was audibly notable. Time lapsed. They worked on the unfortunate for quite some time. There was communication. The helicopter returned, the medevac EMTs, with their medical bag between them, embraced, hooked the line on, were hoisted up and, swaying, lifted away. There was nothing to be done.
The medical personnel gathered their equipment, covered the body with a heavy white sheet, and moved it higher on the beach perpendicular to the shoreline and left, leaving other official personnel to wait for the coroner. In all of this time there seemed to be no one connected to the person, in attendance.
The deceased lay alone, except perhaps in my thoughts, under the darkening sky. The crowd had mostly disbursed. Occasionally an official would go down to the area but no one else did. It took a long time but the coroner arrived and the body was removed..
The weather had taken a turn for the worse. Lightening struck at sea, thunder rolled continuously and the waves swelled, crashing angrily.
The bed was firm and warm, the white sheets fragrant, and I spent a disturbed night, but woke to fresh air, a strong breeze and still choppy sea.
As I rode home I wondered if it had been someone of renown, someone in the Arts, Letters or Music, for whom the world would be informed of a death in San Vincenzo, or a solitary traveler in a room with a view, having enjoyed intensely a few days at the seaside, like myself.
