Italy’s Pesaro: A Top Destination for Beach Holidays in Europe

Pesaro’s allure is enhanced by its pizzas, aperitivos, and expansive sandy beach, adding to its unique charm as an Adriatic resort town

I first learned of Pesaro when my former flatmate suggested I visit in the summer of 2018. At the time, I was working on a book, and Giulia believed her grandfather’s old flat, a modest unit in a building erected in 1946, during Umberto II’s brief reign, was the perfect place for me to focus. The flat had been unoccupied since her grandfather, Dottor Spinicci, passed away from liver failure, having neglected to take his own medicine.

The flat’s balcony overlooked a hot, dusty courtyard shared with the local police station. On my first morning there, I found a faded handwritten recipe for ragù alla bolognese that didn’t include tomatoes. Tempted to report it as a thoughtcrime, I eventually abandoned the idea and went to the beach instead. Walking towards the sea, I quickly realized that the Rossini opera festival was underway. By the time I strolled through the town’s Renaissance center and reached the Adriatic, I knew all the tunes from The Barber of Seville.

I would work on the balcony until noon, then go to Café Journal for a piadina, and finally choose an unregulated square meter of sand to relax on

Arriving at the sea, I was reminded of how Italy’s beach scene can often be disappointing: rows of pay-per-use sunbeds dominated the landscape, with each privatized hectare strictly regulated. However, amidst the rows and columns, I was pleased to find scattered public areas. Known as “spiagge libere,” these valuable spots are where locals lay down their chairs and towels, take out their books, and gradually deepen their tan. From then on, my trip followed a routine. I’d work on the balcony until noon, go to Café Journal for a flatbread (piadina), and then choose an unregulated square meter of sand.

I’d apply some sun milk, swim cautiously for a bit (I’m scared of seafood), and then relax on one of Nonno Spinicci’s old beach towels, which bore a faded “Ciao!” on a tricolor background. I’d express gratitude to the sun for the weather, to luck for my good fortune, and then to Bacchus for the aperitivo, which I’d enjoy around 7 pm at any of the beach bars along the boardwalk to Fano, an ancient Roman settlement reachable by bike in less than an hour.

A typical aperitivo would consist of two ice-cold lagers, a selection of complimentary snacks, and a period spent pondering the fact that Pesaro is twinned with Watford. I’d sit facing east, towards Split and Zadar, and watch as the sea turned a deep, briny blue. Feeling a bit tipsy by this point, I’d need something substantial and head straight for pizza at C’era Una Volta (Once Upon a Time), which seemed, and still seems, like the perfect place to end the day. (Just so you know, I haven’t added tomatoes to my bolognese since then.)