Wherever exported and transplanted out of Europe -- to Turkey, Mexico, even the U.S.S.R -- the style is the same, involving beach and sun, bright colored aperitifs at little tables outdoors, copious fish and shellfish to eat, folk or popular music played on string instruments, cheap drinkable local wine, much use of oil (olive for cooking, suntan for browning), all in a setting of colored architecture and "colorful" street markets. A maximum exposure of flesh guarantees a constant erotic undertone, and a certain amount of noise (Vespas, children shouting on the beach) provides a reassurance of life and gaiety. There must be colorful fishermen and boat-people, playing boules or something like it. There must be love on top of the sheets after the large wine lunch, with occasional hints of Roman Catholicism (processions, the locals attending early mass, the public blessing of fishing vessels) just sufficient to lend the whole frivolous operation a slight air of wickedness. This scene, constituting one of the main presiding myths of the desirable for the modern urban and suburban middle proletariat, has become our version of pastoral, and in the 20's and 30's it was gradually displacing, or at least powerfully opposing, the earlier British image of the hankered-after, the traditional pastoral scene of quiet inland waters, wildflowers, sheep-filled meadows, and silence broken only by birdsong and softly lowing cattle.