Get Going

This morning I went nowhere slow.

Usually I go for a long bike ride, leaving the apartment around 5:30 a.m., riding down the coast on the bike lanes toward Fano. The sun will rise out of the Adriatic. If I’d never seen a sunrise before, I might stop and watch, take its picture. On a bike I glance left, and there it is, a gold rim rising out of the blue. I can’t look long because there’s a lot of traffic at that hour. Joggers, walkers of dogs, walkers of themselves, walkers alone and in twos; bikers, skaters, and service vehicles getting the beach ready for the coming day.

I ride down the coast 3-4 miles, turn around and come back, meeting some of the same people who have also turned around. No one says much. Even the couples are saving their breath. It’s not a talkative time of day. They are about their business, and so am I.

The bicycle is a utilitarian vehicle. Pesaro calls itself a city of bicycles. Everyone goes everywhere on a bicycle. It is also an exercise vehicle. I’ll pass Italian men (mostly men) bent over their racing bikes, wearing fancy sunglasses and sleek biker wear, riding in that earnest way. When I ride, I feel like I’m giving myself a workout, but it’s definitely a minor workout. I’ve giving myself a ride. I take a seat and go.

Walking is more edifying and, I think, better exercise.. There’s no great exertion to it (it’s mostly flat on this beach walk). But it’s steady work. It’s a little more work to carry yourself without the benefit of wheels. It’s also about slowing, stopping, noticing.

There’s the oleander to notice, for example, white and purple, on the Viale next to the sea. And some twisty trees I never noticed. And the gardens beside the sidewalk in town, seas of begonia. The sign next to them says “Giardini d’Amare.” It’s a play on words: gardens to love , “amare,” gardens by the sea, “a mare”.

I walk, I stop and look and watch, and see funny things. I read the T-shirts: There’s a guy who’s been to Miami Beach, Florida. A guy with a USS Naval fleet shirt, appropriate for a visit to the sea. Then Unicef walks by.. And Repubblica. A woman stating the obvious: I LOVE Summer.

Everywhere there are the funny English borrowings: Hotel Flying, Tipo Pub, Streetmood, Gelato Academy. On a billboard is an advertisement for a concert. Sound Park Fest, featuring I Hate My Village. Something tells me I would hate their music. Near our apartment, a business that does not quite reveal itself: Il Furgoncino: Pane Vino e Rock and Roll. Bread and wine and Rock and Roll. I’m not sure what they’re up to.

By the time I get home I’ve walked seven miles. I’ve seen a lot. It was sightseeing. In Italy they celebrate slow food. I like a slow morning of slow seeing.

Tomorrow I’ll walk up into town