Thinking about Venice

I woke up lost in thoughts of Venice, a city that has a way of lingering long after you leave it. And really, Venice, whether in my mind, on paper, or the real thing, isn’t such a bad place to find yourself.

I’ve revisted the city in sevearl of my books. In Big Trouble in Little Italy, the main character, Jessica, wasn’t able to enjoy the city as much as she would’ve liked.

“I’d always dreamt of Italy. I mean who doesn’t dream of a romantic rendezvous in Italy? Venice and villas. And vino. And some guy named Vincenzo singing arias as he paddles a gondola.”

In The Italian Holiday, Venice woo’s Lorenzo and Keats into a dream-like state, allowing them to magically drift among the Italian world of love, art, history, and delectable food. 

“Dusk crept over Venice … we boarded another taxi, skimming across the darkened waters. The city lights winked at us like fireflies hidden among dimmed streets. I was tempted to reach out my hand and touch the magic that churned around me. It was the history of Venice that swirled; vapors of murky water settled on my skin and I didn’t dare wipe them away, as these droplets seemed to hold the determination and vitality of a people.”  

And in La Bella Luna, I corrected a regret I had from my own visit: We passed an advertisement Vivaldi’s Four Seasons…and we passed up the opportunity as we were short on time and sleep. But I made sure my main characters made the trip. 

“A single note was drawn across the strings of the violin of the man who’d made the introductions. The rest of the ensemble matched the note and when everyone seemed satisfied they were in tune, they shifted in their seats as a muffled direction was given. Then, as a whole, they inhaled and the first three notes of a single violin rose into the air, and when those notes caressed the ceiling, a few more musicians joined, creating an elegant lilt.
With the excitement of being together in this place, the whole of the ensemble built the notes into a gorgeous frenzy of delightful sound that resonated in a space of Diana’s soul she’d abandoned for so very long.
Behind the rising and falling bows stood the statues of saints and angels – gatekeepers of the altar they framed – draped in romantic Roman twists of fabric. But Diana thought perhaps they were also guardians to this moment, to this church, to men’s souls.”

Maybe it’s becuase we’re in February as I write this, and that day dedicated to love is just around the corner. Maybe that’s why Venice is on my mind.

Venice: Smelly, Sinking, Crowded… and Completely Enchanting

The city consists of roughly 118 man-made islands, all joined by about 400 bridges. There are 139 Churches in Venice (an attempt by wealthy men living decadent lives to try and buy their way into heaven).

Some visitors complain that Venice smells; sour and moldy. They complain about the sinking city; it’s sinking 1 mm a year and during the rainy season, many streets and piazzas are underwater. Some complain about how expensive Venice is. And some complain that the people of Venice are rude, the buildings dilapidated, the whole city crowded and too much of it is touristy.

And it is.

Except, it also isn’t.

My First Visit to Venice as an Exhausted Tourist

My first visit to this City of Love, I was a run down, schedule keeping, exhausted tourist. Visiting with my family.

Yet, the water shimmered and sang in a way the Pacific Ocean (the water source I was raised by) never had. Mermaids seemed possible in Venice. At least I was certain a sparkle and a ripple of a wave wasn’t some effect created by the waxing of the moon and a random boat’s wake, but rather, the flippant exercise of a mermaid’s tale.

You see, through exhausted tourist’s eyes, all sorts of watery fairy tales seemed possible to me.

“Cream and peach colored buildings sat atop the water rocking, as their exposed brick winked and life bloomed around her. There were more boats now, a few slowly passing, several moored along the side of walkways, bobbing in the wake made by other passing boats. The first bridge appeared and Diana sat down as the boat passed under it, craning her head to glimpse the black underbelly as she thought, even the dirt had life in it. The buildings squeezed the water into thin passages, before releasing the boat into a wide canal. This, Diana thought, must be the Grand Canal. There was a mass of traffic with no rhyme or reason. Buildings wore faded pastel colors, sparkling off the water. So many lacy, arching windows carved into the façade of buildings facing the canal…” -from The Italian Holiday.

Our hotel room in Veince was a delicately decorated gold and maroon pillbox. My memories of the room are as faded now as the wallpaper seemed. But it was a bed to sleep in for a moment in time. Becuase the real adventure lay in the spider web of streets and alleys that all led to watery ends. Canals and bridges begged the observer to slow down, to think about one’s steps. I was, after all, retracing the foot falls of Doges and courtesans; opera singers and craftsmen.  And even the mist of the morning, held left over molecules that retained the breath of Casanova.

Seafood Pasta, Jazz-Filled Piazzas, and Prosecco Nights

Bathed in candlelight, Venice bobbed gently among the currents of time in the lagoon it called home as we dined on fresh seafood pasta. Rolling our eyes heavenward as the first bite awoke our taste buds. We walked, leisurely, as the city would have it, among music filled piazzas. We were baptized in jazz and nourished by bubbling prosecco.

Somehow we found our way to the most treasured of Venetian activities. A moonlit gondola ride.

Our gondolier was everything a proper gondolier should be: well-built for the task, handsome, with skin bronzed from hours on the water. He wore a blousy white shirt, the short sleeves rolled up a little more to show off muscles.

The gondola ride has been forever bound to the truest idea of romantic love. You hear someone say they went on a gondola ride in Venice, I picture … well … this:

“Once they were in the center of the waters, surrounded by the yellow and pink glow of light spilling out from street lamps and windows, the moon beginning her rise, a gondolier across the canal from them began to sing. They heard a deep baritone holding out the notes of an impassioned Italian song.
Their own boat changed course and when they were close enough, their gondolier began to join in the song. Diana and Giovanni smiled at each other, happily shocked by the unexpected event. Giovanni threaded his hand into her hair and kissed her. The affection infused in that kiss and the romantic vapor settling on her skin was delicious; she eagerly returned the kiss as the opulent city that worshiped love sang to her.” – From La Bella Luna.

Yet, my life has always had more comedy in it than romance. So when it was my turn for a gondola ride, what should have been a most romantic moment of my life, came attached to a family vacation.

A Moonlit Gondola Ride

My parents climbed in the boat first, then my grandmother, then my sister, and finally myself. Did you know that most gondolas can fit six to seven people? And did you know it’s more expensive to take a gondola ride at night than it is to go during the day? And you don’t just drift through the canals while your gondolier sings to you? 

It turns out that when you’re with your family; in Venice; in a gondola; in the moonlight … you get a tour.

We five rocked and rolled the boat as we loudly settled ourselves and gave each other directions. Grandma clung to the side, saying, “whoa, whoa” as if she could demand the boat to keep still.

My father, concerned about getting everyone safely settled in the gondola over organized us. He pointed to where everyone should sit and repeated our names until we were settled. The gondolier pointed out pillows after we were settled that we should use to sit on and for our backs. So we went through another round of standing and sitting and rocking the boat.

My parents ended up in the traditional ‘love seat’. My grandmother, sister and I on these small, movable chairs.

Then, the gondolier pushed away from the side of the dock and in a deep, thick Italian accent, began our watery tour.

“Buona Sera, tutti! Did you know, Venezia is made up of 118 islands, 400 bridges and 139 churches? Wow!”

We only have two pictures of us on the gondola. We took this trip before smart phones and before digital cameras were affordable. 

So… Would I Recommend Venice?

You might be asking yourself, was Venice really smelly and rude and expensive and crowded and dilapidated? Yes. 

And no.

I found a journal entry from my time in Venice that expresses my opinion.

“So many people tried to ruin this city for me. Telling me it smelled, it was dirty, expensive, dilapidated, the pigeons were awful…and that’s true to a point, but at the same time all of those things are part of the charm of Venice. But I wonder if my views and the views of those who tried to ruin Venice for me, are more about our personalities than the actual city? I’ve always been able to look at the beauty, see just beyond the surface, see the glory. And, unfortunately, the people who told me the city was rotten, are the same who’ve continually described only the decay of their own lives. I wonder if that is what has fogged their vision over, is it their own focus on negativity that keeps them from being able to see the beauty in anything?”

So taking all these things into consideration, would I suggest Venice?

Yes!

A resounding yes.

When you find the opportunity, I’d say hurry to immerse yourself in every last bit of that floating city. The good, the bad, the glorious and the fading.