On the pebbles of Trieste, walls and ghosts mark the very beginnings of seaside tourism – Technologist

On Trieste’s most illustrious beach, nothing is simple. The official name, La Lanterna, refers to an adjacent lighthouse. The origins of its nickname, “The Pedocin” (“the louse” in dialect), however, are lost in a nebula of urban legends. “Trieste has always been at the forefront of bathing establishments,” said an outdated sign at the entrance, reminding us that when the Pedocin was founded, between 1890 and 1903 depending on the source, it accompanied the beginnings of seaside tourism. Open all year round, the establishment is now home to Europe’s last single-sex beach, a legacy of customs from another era, separated by a 3-meter-high wall, the two sexes persist in bathing separately.

Not far from the ticket machine – €1.20 a day – a plaque celebrates the memory of Ulysses (1922), the novel James Joyce partly wrote in Trieste. The Irish writer’s shadow hovers over the beach, as a lifeguard with the evocative first name Serena laughed. “Two years ago, we celebrated the centenary of Ulysses, on the women’s side,” said this 21-year-old literature student. “It was a mess, with the regulars refusing to give up their places.”

Serena appreciates Trieste’s “surly grace,” she said, quoting another local glory, the poet Umberto Saba. On the day we met her, she was guarding the men’s side – lifeguards, children under 14 and the disabled are the only ones allowed through the wall. “It’s smaller and quieter here than on the women’s side. Free from the male gaze, they speak and act very freely, often topless, whatever their age. Men, on the other hand, are quieter.”

‘Here, it’s all about the territory’

Resplendent in his azure bathing trunks, Attilio looked good for 81. Back when he worked in the shipyards, he used to drop his wife off at the Pedocin, where she lounged every lunchtime or so. “Since her death a few years ago, I’ve taken over. It’s where I meet up with my childhood and construction buddies.” A cab driver by night, a man in his fifties basked in the sunshine as he read Light in August (1935) by William Faulkner. In a shady corner, a group of retired dockers were playing cards. Immersed up to their waists, a man and a woman chatted on either side of the buoys that extend the dividing wall across the water. There were no waves, as the Pedocin is protected by the port’s piers, which act as a screen against the wind.

This juxtaposition of fixed lines and prowling spirits fascinated Mathieu Amalric, who filmed Le Stade de Wimbledon (Wimbledon Stage, 2001), the story of a writer (played by Jeanne Balibar) who puts her desires through the Triestine revelator, following in the footsteps of an intriguing literary figure from the city, Roberto Bazlen (1902-1965). In one scene, her character inadvertently finds herself at the Pedocin, on the men’s side. “On this beach, we project fantasies, we watch for ghosts, just like in the movies,” said Amalric, in his Paris home. “For me, Trieste is both the narrow-minded old women, who yell at you with an Austrian accent if you haven’t validated your ticket, and the crazy people who spin with the wind, in the streets.”

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