Italy is known around the world for its design. This applies to cars, motorcycles, architecture, clothing, leather goods, what have you. There is a style to the things Italians make that is unique and appealing. In most cases, they just get it right. Not so, however, when it comes to beach chairs. Everywhere we went, from the hotel pool in Sorrento, to Villa Scarpariello, to this beach in Maiori, and later at our villa in Tuscany, we encountered these same awful chairs. They were everywhere. Pick up any brochure for a hotel and you’ll see them by the pool. Drive by any beach and it’s all they’ve got. Yet for us, the darn things were impossible. We couldn’t figure out how in the world anyone could get comfortable in them. Take the lounge, for instance; it was adjustable to two settings: 1) backache and 2) neck ache. Whoever had designed this highly popular chair had never taken a look at the human skeleton. In the lower position the lounge required one to bend at the shoulder blades. In the upright position one was expected to bend at the kidneys. More time had apparently been invested into the contraption that folds up over the head, ostensibly to shield out the sun. Instead, this device invariably ends up in one’s face or hair. Eventually I concluded this handy feature must be there to hide one’s grimacing face.

The upright chair was no better. Sitting in it was an experience reminiscent of those baby bounce seats one hangs in a doorway. The baby fits down into it, fully trapped, and bounces up and down. This is exactly how this chair felt, minus the bouncing part. That would have made it fun. Instead, as soon as you plop down into it you realize you’ll need help extracting yourself. This chair, too, has two helpful settings: 1) pinch fingers and 2) pop pelvis.

Terri and I took turns trading back and forth between these two delightful contraptions of our most recent real estate transaction as our children frolicked in the sand.