It’s still very much holiday season in Italy in late August, with schools closed for a few more weeks yet - for almost another month here in Puglia - and the intense heat meaning there’s nowhere to be but at the beach. My daughter and her grandparents are al mare a few times a week, alternating coasts depending on which way the wind is blowing. I joke that they’re living the dolce vita Italian dream while I work. But really, I don’t mind skipping the beach - at least, not in Italy.

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I was reminded of this over Ferragosto weekend when I, for reasons I’m still wondering about, decided to join the rest of the family at their usual beach club. While they swam, I found myself sitting in the shade under a drifting haze of cigarette smoke, as music blared and a conga line began to form between the closely-packed sunbeds. I felt faintly ridiculous in the miniscule sequinned bikini I’d had to borrow from my Italian sister-in-law, who insisted that it really was supposed to be that small, and I just needed to get used to the Italian way of doing things.

After nearly a decade in Italy though, I think I have to admit defeat. I've concluded that Italian-style beach days are in the category of things I'll never really get used to. The crowds, the smoke, the tupperware full of pasta al forno. The beaches themselves can be incredibly beautiful. But if you’re hoping to lie on the sand and listen to the waves, or read a book, you're at the wrong beach - and maybe in the wrong country.

This is true at both the ‘free’ beaches (spiagge libere) and the private beach clubs - a particularly Italian phenomenon, much maligned in the international press - and by the European Commission. But for most Italians I know, there’s no other way. A sunbed and umbrella is seen as being as essential to a day at the beach as the coffee bar and warm showers.

Our Ferragosto beach day cost about six euros a head, which in Italy is ludicrously cheap. That's because this was one of many lidi reserved for members of the armed forces, emergency services and their families. This philosophy that beach clubs are almost essential, and something the state should subsidise access to, is one of the things I find most curious about Italy's concessions system.

Elsewhere on Puglia’s coast, a growing number of luxury options charge upwards of 100 euros per person, per day. It won’t be surprising to hear that these are aimed at foreign tourists. There are no crowds at these lidi, there’s more space between sunbeds and (usually) no blaring music. They’re a nicer experience, obviously, but not 100-euros nicer. More standard places meanwhile still set our family of three back around 60-70 euros - plus parking - before we’ve even had anything to eat.

There is regional variation - we’ve had cheaper, more relaxed days on the coast of Tuscany or Lazio for half the price. But the better Italian beach days I've had over the years have all been at the ‘free’ beaches, mostly in tiny, rocky coves - you need to get there very early in the morning - or on wild, empty stretches of coastline, which are great if you don’t mind lugging your beach umbrellas across some abandoned train tracks or down the side of a cliff.

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Most Italians have always taken their summer holidays in Italy But the number of Italian families going elsewhere is rising fast. Greece is increasingly one of the most popular destinations among Italians, with lower prices often cited as the main factor. After all, Italy is becoming increasingly unaffordable for people earning Italian salaries.

We've asked before whether Italians are being priced out of Italian hotspots, as the industry admits to hiking prices amid a surge in international tourism. But for me, and I suspect many others, there’s more to it than just the cost.

I’ll probably end up at the beach club again this month before we head back to the city - my daughter loves it. Inflatable unicorns, bachata music, lasagna on plastic plates, and all. But I’ll be secretly looking forward to our week in Crete next month, where going to the beach is a completely different experience.