Tag: community

Celebrating the Italian Summer at the Seaside in Cesenatico

Italians find themselves at the sea nearly every summer weekend, whether they smartly rent or own a whole beach house, or just a few feet of sand under an umbrella.  Having lived in Bologna for years and living as any honorable Italian would do, I joined in the weekend beach-side adventures, fleeing as far as Ancona, but mostly sticking directly East of Bologna in Rimini, Riccione and Ravenna.  But mostly Rimini, because it was familiar.  As soon as the fan came down off the top shelf of my closet and propped up by my bed, the early Saturday morning train rides to Rimini commenced. So it was fitting that I spent my last weekend in Italy before my big return to the United States relaxing at the Italian seaside lifestyle that had defined my summers there.  But this time I didn’t have to wake up early and take the train.  Instead, my boyfriend at the time preferred to drive.  And he was a different sort of character.  He didn’t do things the same way everyone else did.  Instead, he suggested we go to the tiny town of Cesenatico.  I didn’t have the slightest idea what to expect, but as always, I was up for the adventure.

The canal leading to the sea in Cesenatico, Italy
The canal leading to the sea in Cesenatico, Italy

The non-eventful drive and the parking process played out like all of my other beach adventures.  The drive east toward the Adriatic Sea is flat with huge green fields broken up by an occasional ancient structure.  As you approach the sea, there are lots of trees shading the streets and houses.  I was unsuspecting as we parked in an ugly supermarket parking lot until we emerged onto the main walkway of the village.  Stretching before me was a long canal that ran to the sea, flanked by colorful buildings and sporting a long line of cleverly named boats.  But these weren’t recreational boats, they were fishing boats.  And the canal, apparently, is famous because it was once surveyed by Leonardo da Vinci.  Only in Italy.

Fishing boats in Cesenatico, Italy
Fishing boats in Cesenatico, Italy

I was surprised by my surroundings.  “Where are we again?” I asked him.  I’m bad with proper nouns. “Cesenatico,” he replied. “But this place is so cool – why doesn’t everyone come here?” “I don’t know,” he said. “But that’s why I like it.  Not everyone comes here.”

 A boy playing on the beach in Cesenatico, Italy
A boy playing on the beach in Cesenatico, Italy

He was right.  There were definitely other Italian tourists, but they were mostly families.  Instead of walking into a tourist trap, it felt instead like we were stepping into the seaside life of these lucky Italians that call Cesenatico home.

A girl taking a stroll along the beach on her own in Cesenatico, Italy
A girl taking a stroll along the beach on her own in Cesenatico, Italy

We walked down the crowded main stretch along the canal, toward the sea.  I almost felt like a voyeur, watching all the families and the family dogs enjoying their Saturday.  There was even a funky shaped boat that cost one euro that would take you to the other side of the canal if you so desired.

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We drifted until we couldn’t walk anymore, to the point at the end of the boardwalk.  Fishermen and teens and couples like us trickled around, but nothing overwhelming.  Near the boardwalk was a sprawling restaurant with whitewashed walls and tables.  We were led to a table in the sand.  A family with a toddler playing in the sand sat at the next table.  We sat a bit with our drinks, the sight and sounds of the sea releasing our stress, much of which stemmed from my impending departure.   “It seems impossible to believe that in a week you will be in New York.  From Cesenatico to New York – I can’t imagine a bigger change,” said my traveling companion.  I sat and munched my olive and took a sip of prosecco.  He was right.  At that moment, New York was absolutely worlds away from Cesenatico.

The scene of a small town that looks after itself in Cesenatico, Italy
The scene of a small town that looks after itself in Cesenatico, Italy

We eventually found ourselves making our way back up the canal.  A pair of sunglasses caught his eye, and as he tried them on I wandered a few steps and discovered a little fair on a tiny side street, so characteristic of Italy.  Everywhere I turned this little street was dripping with charm – a candy-cane striped awning and a retro bike, a gelato shop that tempted my traveling companion, and knitted jellyfish hanging from a string tied to streetlights.

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I followed the jellyfish hanging from the sky, one by one, to a small, quiet piazza, full of families and a few curious adults, officially stepping over any remaining line between tourist and resident.  To my delight, there were nautical-inspired knittings livening up the ancient stone fountain, church, and doorways of the building facing the piazza, to match the hanging jellyfish.

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Children played under trees decorated with diamonds and more jellyfish.

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With a bit of internet research, I realized I had stumbled upon Cesenatico’s Urban Knitting Group “Il Mare in Conserva,” an installation art exhibit in the Piazzetta delle Conserve.

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I was utterly charmed to so unexpectedly wander into this peaceful, simple world.  I participated as an outsider, snapping photos of the happy children and cats, until realizing my travel companion had probably finished his gelato by now.

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I reluctantly followed the jellyfish back, and found him happy as a clam (no pun intended), taking advantage of his phone’s data plan as the celebrations went on around him.

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We made our way back to the car slowly, our departure marking a transition into a much more complicated world, void of knitted jellyfish and children playing jump-rope on the street.  It had not been just another beach adventure.  It was the end of an era of a naive American girl marveling in the oddities and delights of a beach life so different from my Southern California home.  And the beginning of a mysterious something else.

“Ben Revived” in Ben Wheeler

I just spent two weeks in Ben Wheeler, TX. Population unknown because, well, there are no city lines. But according to Wikipedia – the knower of everything, even the unknown – the population is 425.

When my mother first saw Ben Wheeler on my summer itinerary she asked me why I hadn’t told her I was seeing someone new. “Seeing someone?” I asked in confusion. “Ben Wheeler?” she responded. “That’s the name of the city, Mom,” I laughed. “Oh!” she responded, followed by a look of bewilderment. “Where’s that?”

I often got that kind of response when sharing my summer itinerary. My friends in Italy, on the other hand, who had studied Ben Wheeler with me in our urban planning class, couldn’t wait for me to get there. When my trip was confirmed we immediately got on Google Earth and happened to find a building with the word “salon” on it in the middle of what appeared to be a small concentration of buildings, which I have since learned were photographed before the area’s transformation. Was this downtown perhaps? “Looks like you have a spa date, Peggy!” laughed my friend Lauren. “I’m going to like every post you make on Facebook from Ben Wheeler, TX,” she giggled sincerely, perched on a chair in our favorite hangout in Bologna, Italy.

My friend from Austin messaged me when he found out about the trip. “Why Ben Wheeler? Why not Austin or Houston or Dallas?” My answer was simple – I was researching Ben Wheeler. After three years of following the transformation of this forgotten little place in East Texas as it blossomed into a little community with the help of a man with a heart, a checkbook, and a vision, I was as curious as curious could be about what I would find.

As it turns out, my wildest imagination couldn’t have prepared me for what I had in store. Now, don’t get me wrong – Ben Wheeler absolutely delivered on what Texas does best. I got my fair share of unsweet tea, fried pickles, big trucks, ranch dressing, cowboy boots, four-wheelin’, opinionated white guys, huntin’ stories, Obama jokes, guns, critters, and Coors light (imagine this said with an East Texas twang).

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But the surprises came just as quickly. My first big one was on the drive from the airport. “There are lakes in Texas!?” I exclaimed naively as we drove by a beautiful town nestled along the banks of a man-made lake. This was a shock. I love the Texas landscape, and with a few lakes in the mix I am a happy tourist, happily enjoying a relaxing afternoon suntanning by the lake and sipping unsweet tea.

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But the part of Ben Wheeler that came as the biggest surprise was being part of a community. I guess because I have never lived in a real, authentic community before, so I had no idea what a real community felt like. I guess I’m not so uncommon, though. The lucky few of us that can say we live in a community lead a different sort of life. The community of Ben Wheeler is a place where people don’t lock their front doors. They keep their keys in their ignitions. They go out to dinner without making plans to meet anyone because they know their friends will show up at some point and at the very least they can catch up with the restaurant staff. Or look out the restaurant window at the world going by in their picture perfect downtown. If they need to repair their fence, they ask their neighbor.

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I personally interviewed 97 people in Ben Wheeler. People that had retired here sounded like a broken record, “We never knew a single one of our neighbors the entire time we lived in Dallas. Now we know everybody.” A 20-something runaway told me, “I just got into my car and drove and ended up in downtown Ben Wheeler and my first thought was, ‘I think this is my last stop in life.'” Young families told me, “We wanted our kids to grow up where we didn’t have to worry about them playing in the front yard alone.” And a man that lives in the next town over mused about moving to Ben Wheeler, “Sometimes I sit here (in downtown Ben Wheeler) listening to music with friends, enjoying the evening, and we say to each other, ‘Isn’t this what it’s all about?'”

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It sure makes a city girl think. And think hard. After enjoying little villages across Italy and longing for the charm of these spirited places in America, Ben Wheeler has revitalized my faith that life in America doesn’t just have to be about shopping trips to Target, working out at the gym, and binge-ordering on Amazon. There are still true communities out there, defined by a simpler way of life, individuality and real connection between the people that makes them strong. In these places, they really actually want to know your name. And they’ll remember it.

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Thanks to Brooks Gremmels in Ben Wheeler – the man with the vision – his wife Reese, and their amazing team including Jenni, Donley, Steve, and the rest of fabulous Ben Wheeler for what you’ve done for community. I’ve definitely “Ben Revived.” 🙂

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Best of Ben Wheeler, a set on Flickr.