Venezia
Sunday, October 7th, 2007On the way to Venice we had our first train-missing experience. Let’s just say that Italian train stations require the utmost vigilance. Any information you manage to gather should be considered more a clue than a fact. It’s a confusing game of hide and seek that we almost lost. Fortunately the ticket collector on the train leaving 5 minutes later accepted our “your trains suck” faces in place of a correct ticket.
When we got off the train in Venice, we kissed wheels goodbye. Everything takes the form of a boat in this strange water world; from buses, taxis, luxury automobiles and police cars, delivery and postal trucks, to fire engines. We even saw two young kids cruising in a boat tricked out with subwoofers. I can imagine the Greenberg/Spillar family duo circa 1997 having a hell of a time introducing Venetians to jet skis.
I realize I’ve been using the word “beautiful” right and left in these posts, so to communicate my impression of Venice beyond “beautiful,” I would say that every façade of every building could be photographed and framed. They are all deteriorating in the most dignified and elegant way imaginable. Only for lack of time and memory cards did I come away with so few pictures.
St. Mark’s square was the main hub of our ventures throughout Venice partly because it was one of the few places we could find without getting lost, and partly because it is a very impressive square. St. Mark’s Basilica, with its golden mosaic domes and swirling marble floors, was also a sight to see. Our favorite activity, however, was just roaming over little bridges and through tight Venetian corridors. It is a fascinating city whose initial delight doesn’t fade easily.
Other than the city itself, one of our top two experiences in Venice was the energetic string orchestra we saw play Vivaldi’s Four Seasons inside an old Venetian church. The cellist thrashed around with so much enthusiasm that I wasn’t sure if he was on crack, or just insanely excited about classical music (plus just a little crack.) Either way, his fervor only heightened the intensity of the music and I didn’t bat a sleepy eye once during the hour and a half musical roller coaster ride. I’m only 22 years young, but it feels weird to reach a point when classical music becomes legitimately entertaining. Of course Lauren reached that point back in third grade when I was too enthralled with ‘Slimer’ to realize classical music even existed, much less perform it on a piano.
Every night St. Mark’s square hosts three small stages crammed with orchestras. They take turns playing two song sets as a crowd of merry tourists marches back and forth. One night as we were walking back from the square, one of the bands started playing a tango song that we both recognized. Lauren was able to recount the song’s title and composer but I knew it only as “That Song From The End Of True Lies.”
The other top experience was the gondola ride, which I think speaks for itself. It was romantic with a capital “R.” We were mesmerized by Venice at sunset. The trance was only lifted when listening to our gondolier make fun of other gondoliers and their passengers in Italian (Lauren translated for me;) he was a real character.
On the last day we browsed Peggy Guggenheim’s outstanding collection of modern art including works by innumerable kick ass Surrealists, Cubists, Dadaists, and pretty much any other 20th century –ists. Later we refilled our wine thermos at the local straight-from-the-cask shop and boarded a ferry to the train station. Towards the end I tried desperately to take in as much of Venice as I could, like a kid gulping in air before diving underwater. I hope its not too long before my supply runs out.
seanaboots