interviews: Guisela Chiarella
For much of Italy, August still carries the weight of ritual. Beaches fill, cities empty, and shutters close across shops and offices. But what follows, the annual return to ordinary life, has a name that Italians invoke with a mix of resignation and dread: il rientro — literally, “the re-entry.”
Unlike in many countries where vacations end with little more than a sigh, Italians describe rientro as a process — a slow, sometimes painful shift from holiday rhythms to everyday obligations. “It’s like being wrenched from another planet,” one Trieste resident said. “You go from sea breezes and swims to computer screens and traffic.”
The holiday hiatus dates back to Emperor Augustus, who established a festival on Aug. 1, later moved to Aug. 15 as Ferragosto. Traditionally, the entire month of August was given over to rest, a time when Italy’s industrial production lines halted and city centers grew silent. Today, few Italians can afford a full month away, and many shorten their breaks to the weeks flanking Ferragosto. Yet the cultural shock of returning persists.
In Trieste, where the sea is never far, the contrast feels particularly sharp. Some residents say the city itself seems to hesitate in September. “Work is supposed to start again, schools open, but everything moves more slowly,” said another local. “People are still half at the beach, at least in their minds.”
The period of adjustment can last well into autumn. Courses, cultural programs and even bureaucratic processes often do not fully restart until October. That lag is part of what sets Italy’s rientro apart from the back-to-school rush elsewhere in Europe or the United States.
For many here, the challenge is not simply returning to desks and classrooms, but reorienting the psyche after weeks spent outdoors, with long evenings and late dinners. “It’s a kind of collective jet lag,” said a teacher in Trieste. “You feel it everywhere — on the buses, in the cafes. People look tired, but also reluctant to let go.”
Even so, some embrace the slower tempo of the transition. A few locals described September as a kind of soft landing, a chance to ease into routines while savoring the last warm days by the Adriatic. “We complain about rientro,” one resident admitted, “but maybe we need it. It’s the bridge between summer and the rest of the year.”
