At the Beach

On Sunday afternoon, we arrived in Genoa. After unpacking, we followed the suggestion of taking a bus to the Corso Italia, and walking to Bocadessa. The wide sidewalk was filled with locals coming and going. Once at Bocadessa, we settled down at a cafe table for drinks, at the edge of a narrow cove. The terrace there was about four feet above a tongue of rocks running down to the sea. Children aged about five to nine, mostly girls, would run to within a few feet of the water and throw stones into it. The throws showed that baseball has made little impression on Italy.

Presently we noticed two young women in elaborate pink dresses, filmy over the shoulders, sleeveless, very full skirts, carrying each a bouquet of pink flowers, accompanied by two photographers and what was probably a brother. All three of us had the same thought, "quinceañera". We had never heard of such a custom in Italy, but who was to say that the girls were Italian? The photographers went to work with the girls, first separately, each in turn standing on the beach or sitting in the angle of the wall. It was clear, as each walked carefully the ten yards of beach, that the girls were in high heels

My wife noticed that several of the little girls found this much more interesting than throwing rocks. They stood still, a little behind the photographer. Once the photographer was done with the first girl's standing pictures, they ran up, and a mother took a photograph with her phone.

As we were looking for a place to take a photo of our own, a photographer and one of the girls passed us, heading for another location, and we heard him say "quindici anni". So the girls were twins, quinceañeras. Where they were from, who knows. The brother could certainly pass for Latin American. I trust that they will have a good set of photographs to show their daughters and granddaughters.