As lunchtime approaches at Il Tirreno, a private beach club in Montalto di Castro on the Lazio coast, Beatrice Bordo, sitting in the shade of a blue umbrella, unwraps a slice of pizza.
A pranzo al sacco, or packed lunch, has become the latest skirmish in Italy’s long-running beach disputes after a woman was confronted over the clandestine consumption of a homemade sandwich at a private establishment in Puglia.
But Bordo, who has rented her two loungers and umbrella for the entire season and intends to make the most of her patch of sand every day, is unfazed.
“I’ve paid €850 [£725] for the season and I spend money in the bar – on coffee, ice-cream, granita,” she said matter-of-factly. “So they can’t expect me to spend up to €50 a day to eat at their restaurant. It is not an obligation. They can do what they want in their resort, but I’ll do what I want beneath my umbrella.”
Bordo is far from alone in bristling at the sandwich debacle that unfolded in Vieste, a town on Puglia’s Gargano peninsula, last weekend, reigniting debate over the resorts that dominate much of Italy’s coastline. The woman at the centre of the dispute, who like Bordo had paid for her loungers and umbrella, had smuggled in homemade sandwiches for herself and her two children.
While there is no national rule prohibiting customers at private clubs from bringing in food and drink, concession holders sometimes set their own policies, as was the case in Vieste.
Luca Pernice, a journalist with Corriere della Sera, who happened to be at the same beach, explained that the woman, named Rosaria, had concealed the sandwiches at the bottom of her bag.
When lunchtime arrived, she advised her hungry son to eat his close to the sea, away from the prying eyes of the resort’s staff. But alas, he got caught and Rosaria was reminded that the resort forbids packed lunches.
“It’s a common occurrence on the beaches here,” said Pernice. “People don’t want to be forced to spend at the restaurant every day, they can’t afford it, and so this is what they do, they strategise.”
His subsequent story about the transgression led to an immediate row. Nicola Ragno, the president of the local unit of Assoturismo, the association for beach concession holders, said packed lunches “damaged the image” of beach clubs, alleging that many beachgoers didn’t just limit their lunch to the humble sandwich.
“In most cases, we see full-blown meals – pasta, main courses, fruit, desserts, drinks – all manner of food,” Ragno told Corriere della Sera. “This creates issues with hygiene, waste management and general orderliness, while complicating the services that business owners provide through significant investment and dedicated staff.”
Antonio Decaro, the president of the Puglia region, also waded in to the debate. “No one can stop you from eating food on the beach that you’ve brought from home,” he said in a post on Facebook, reminding his viewers of the actual rules. “The cost of loungers and umbrellas is already exorbitant. The sea is a common good and must not become a luxury.”
The share of coastline taken up by private beach concessions varies according to the region, from roughly 20% in Sardinia to 70% in Emilia-Romagna and Liguria, with the majority offering bar and restaurant services. But in recent years, Italians have started to turn away owing to often hefty prices.
The average cost of renting two loungers and an umbrella is up 6% on 2025, in some places by as much as 16%, according to the consumers’ association, Altroconsumo. Prices at Il Tirreno, where the daily cost is €20, rising by a few euros at the weekend, are fairly affordable for the Lazio region.
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“But it becomes too much if you then have to spend on the restaurant,” said Moira Maccharini, who was at the beach with her toddler son and mother, Elisabetta. They had prepared a packed lunch containing breaded cutlets, salad, fruit and yoghurt. “It’s also more of a pleasure to bring food made at home.”
Elisabetta, originally from Sicily, embraces the Italian beach culture but points out that people are coming less often and are taking shorter holidays. “This beach used to be packed,” she said. “People are really struggling with the cost of living.”
Rachele Giambi, who together with her brother Alessio and husband, Marco Campione, holds the concession at Il Tirreno, said that while she can sympathise with her customers, managing the resort is a costly endeavour.
“We don’t forbid packed lunches,” she added. “But the problem is those who are ill-mannered – for example, some bring takeout pizza and then leave it to us to get rid of the cardboard boxes.”
She said people have “the wrong impression” that concession holders are raking it in. “It’s a big investment. We’re only authorised to be open for three months a year, but it’s not as if we stop paying taxes for the rest of the year.”
Il Gabbiano, along the coast from Il Tirreno, has solved the issue by providing packed lunches for its customers, which can either be consumed in the bar area or beneath their umbrella. “It’s really convenient,” said Benedetta as she ate a seafood risotto. “With a bottle of water, it was only €9.”
For years, Mare Libero, a grassroots movement, has fought to reclaim beaches from private concessions, and for public beaches to then be properly maintained by local authorities.
“This is the issue,” said Bordo, pointing to the patch of free beach next to Il Tirreno. “It’s not well-maintained and there are no services. So until things change in that respect, I am staying here.”