Venice . Venezia . Venise . D’Italie
7th of May. Running late at the airport, as per usual, I bumped into Julia and her friend Kenny, who was visiting from New York. Thankfully we were on the same plane. Surprisingly, the flight felt like it only went for 20 minutes, the best part of which was being able to see the Alps from my window.
The Alps between France and Italy
Venice was a novelty from the moment we stepped off the plane. To get from the airport to the city we were required to take a boat. Almost 2 hours later, we finally arrived at our villa in the Dorsoduro district. Administrative details lost in translation allowed us to experience our first genuine rip off, though it was easy to put it behind us when the reality of being in one of the most magical cities in the world, finally sunk in.
Later, an unsuccessful late night alcohol hunt led us through dark and winding lane ways, each of which seemed to end in an eerily quiet canal or at the bank of a seemingly endless expanse of ocean. It became obvious that Venice was not going to be easily forgotten.
Grande Canal, Venice
buona sera, venezia!
Our days were spent wandering the endless alleys, swigging Italian wine from water bottles filled at wine shops, getting lost between buildings still standing from the 5th and 6th Centuries and retreating back to the villa for lazy lunchtimes on the terrace. We payed visits to San Marco Square and the Basilica di San Marco, of which the entire interior is covered in tiny golden tiles smaller than a 5 cent piece. We walked along Riva degliSchiavoni to the old Army Barracks, we wandered through Cannaregio to Ponte di Rialto, and spent 2 Euros throwing wishes into the Grand Canal, although I don’t think that is a conventional tourist past time and I’m not expecting them to come true. We weaved through crowds, hung out in Piazzas, declined boat rides from old Venetian men only interested in our youthful femininity, and saw Vivaldi’s four seasons performed in the Chiesa San Vidal.
It is interesting to imagine Venice in all its grandeur when the paint was fresh and Venetians dressed smart in gowns and garments fashioned in the affluence of their times. Now Venice is constantly occupied by tourists sporting fanny packs and cameras, and it is sinking. The townhouses are decrepit, and their lower floors seem to be rotting even as the inhabitants go about their daily business.
The city has an air of inescapable sadness, bridled for now by fickle materialism. Though I am grateful to have experienced this hauntingly beautiful city, Venice makes me sad for the inevitable demise of its existence.
