Before setting out on this three week adventure, I researched the weather of Italy so we could bring appropriate clothing. I checked travel blogs, long range weather sites and checked historic weather data to see how cold, wet or warm it might get. We packed appropriately... or so we thought.
I learned that average daytime temps for most of Italy would be lower to mid seventies during the day and mid sixties to upper fifties at night. Nonsense.
For the last three weeks the weather has been amazingly warm... upper seventies to mid eighties in the day and rarely cooler than 65 at night.
Curiously, the Italians really think this is autumn, and admittedly we did see some grapevines dropping their leaves in northern Tuscany, up near Vinci... but that is near the mountains. It does get a little cool at night there. But everywhere we went, in the north or way down by the southern heel of Italy's boot, Italians dressed like it was winter, never mind fall. And scarves... most wear them. Day or night. Man or woman. During the evening passeggiata when we strolled in shorts and short sleeved shirts, everyone else wore the puffy vests and jackets or outright winter gear. Check out the pic... I was wearing a short sleeve shirt and sweating, these people were dressed for a cool, breezy autumn day!
The odd thing is, most people do sweat... I've seen it. "Why don't you take off that sweater, the sun is out and it's hot", I'd find myself thinking. Like the French, I don't think Italians are so much into daily showers or baths... thus the abundance of bidets in this country. And, like the French, they are into perfumes and colognes... no deodorant sprays, just piling on the cologne to cover up their sweatiness.
There are others who seem to have no functioning sweat glands. I've seen them too... usually when I'm sweating like a pig. Like this nice lady in a gift store near the Pantheon yesterday... We had bought a few things and while Lisa and Lucas waited outside, I was waiting for her to pack things up so I could pay. I kept mopping my brow and my shirt was sticking to me... and no air conditioning and very bright hot lighting in the store. And there she was, dry as a bone, happily fussing to the extreme with fancy wrapping, gift bags, and tying ribbons as Italians in chi-chi shops tend to do. No joke, while I stood there exuding bodily fluids, she spent the better part of ten minutes perfecting her little packaging gems... I was dying to get my fading consciousness out of that sweat shop and onto the street where the breeze of a speeding scooter might give a tiny bit of relief.
Needless to say, autumn does not exist here and we packed too many clothes for cooler weather. Lisa never got a chance to wear that wrap I bought her. My one corduroy shirt remained packed.
If you look at the latitude of Pennsylvania and Italy they are almost the same... but the weather sure isn't. By the time we get back home most of the leaves will have fallen, the best pumpkins picked. Italians don't know what they're missing.
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