Venice

Every day I was in Rome I found myself coming back to my hotel room and pouring out the intricacies of the day. Where I went, who I talked to, it rolled out of me but it has to be said that it was mostly intellectual observation, details rather than emotions. Venice was different.
It struck me dumb. In terms of stories, I'm coming away with a million of those but it hit me on a level that doesn't lend itself to blogging possibly, blogging being a speedy kind of sketching of events rather than the slow evolution of an idea. I shall do my best to explain myself. Being in Venice feels not unlike a waking dream. The colours are brighter, the sounds are so different like the slapping of the water against stone, the low vibration of the Vaporetto and other boats, church bells and then because I'm staying in more of a residential area, what sounds like an incredibly heated argument in Italian but which is often just a couple of friends enquiring after each others health.
When I first arrived here I was hot from walking from the station, when I got to Italy the temperature soared every day, in the high 30's in Rome and somewhere in that vicinity in Venice as well with the added bonus of humidity. So I showered and changed and headed out into the city to get myself acquainted and find something to eat. You can spend so much time just hanging out here, I decided to make it a rule that there would be no lining up for things on this trip, for one reason because I don't have enough time, the second reason is that not lining up for things means that I don't see all the big attractions, like inside the Colosseum and the Basilica di San Marco. I don't know why but it feels like committing to seeing that stuff now feels so final, like I'll never come back and I want to. I really, really want to. So instead I walked, I walked all over Venice on my first day and my second day and then the third day I caught a bunch of Vaporetto's (Venice's system of water buses)out to Burano, Murano and Torchello. So here we go. My first afternoon I walked down to the Ponte Rialto but decided to save crossing it until the next day when I would also go see Piazza Di San Marco. Instead I had dinner at its feet, in a restaurant that probably charged too much but that I knew would charge too much and didn't care. Sometimes in life you have to allow yourself to do that which is not sensible but is just for fun. I spent my time regarding the Ponte Rialto drinking red wine a lot faster than I normally would, it had never tasted that good before. After dinner, mercifully sober, I wandered back through the streets of Venice until dusk began to fall, catching snippets of conversation of people as they passed me being carried on in what seemed like every language on earth. I came upon a little gelateria that made its own ice cream and grabbed a scoop of tirimisu gelato and a scoop of nutella gelato, then found myself a little spot on the shoulder of a bridge and watched the sun set on my first day in Venice. That became my little ritual, every day, 2 scoops, same bridge, sunset.
It cost me 2 euro for the gelato and I felt like I stole the sunset.
On the second day I woke up at dawn, I don't know why but I did. Watched the sun return over the houses around me and then headed out into the streets again. I naively decided that I would wander without a map, with only a plan to see the Piazza at some point, and see what else it got me. And I saw a hell of a lot of Venice, some markets, lots of gondolieri, millions of churches, crossed the Rialto bridge once purposefully and three times by accident. It really was like a dream, where you were trying to get somewhere but no matter what kept coming to yet another turning. But still in all that aimless wandering there were little moments, like finding a water fountain where I could fill my water bottle with icy cold fresh water, they were a welcome sight in Rome too, I wish we had them everywhere. Or finding little plaques and murals, sometimes of the Madonna or a saint, sometimes just a hand or a sun, I like those little details.
Eventually I just followed the hum of the crowd, the distant whispering of the ocean of people waiting to get into the basilica. That was what got me there. I sat in the square just watching them all, occasionally being bugged by a Romany Gypsy wanting euro or an African guy trying to sell me a fake Gucci bag, it kills the romance of the moment sure but that's what happened. I mapped the outside of the basilica in photographs, glad that I was moving on and not waiting in the interminable heat. I walked past Florian's, again photographing it and deciding that I did not need to pay for the pleasure of going inside it. I spent a lot of time in the piazza, wandering and photographing things. Recording the sounds in my head and trying not to kick pigeons. The pigeons are maybe too tame there.
Maybe I was savouring the moment, maybe I was stalling for time because I could not remember how I got to the square or how to get myself back. In the end I opted to navigate back as best I could and ended up having lunch in a nice little restaurant halfway back. Bruschetta and campari soda. Red, soft, tang and sweetness of the tomatoes and cool, icy, bitterness of campari.
I found the spiral staircase of the Borolo Palace as I was trying to navigate my way back to Cannareggio, a surprisingly well hidden and deserted attraction. Foot sore I made it back over to my little district, where I know my way around, know who has the cheapest gelato and granita's and had my afternoon arranchia rossa granita on a little bench I found tucked away from the action but right near the water. When its that hot and humid being away from the water is almost unbearable, the air is still and wraps around you like steam trapped under cling film bearing down upon your skin. Watched the people go by cooled by a little breeze off the grand canal and then when I felt rested, browsed through all the shops I hadn't been in yet. Found a little escape from the heat for dinner in a restaurant with a garden where I had pizza and made sure I left enough room for my evening gelato. Then, when it was time I, went to what I've now decided is my gelato place, collected my 2 scoops and then went down to the bridge to watch the sun set. I had to scare away some tourists coz they took my spot but I did it and they ran and so I ate my gelato in peace.
I limped home, I had walked for nearly 13 hours on cobble stones. I came back and turned on the laptop intending to commit my thoughts to word and promptly fell into unconsciousness waking only at some point to turn off the light. Still in my clothes, on top of the bed, until morning woke me.
Sunday was Vaporetto day, you can get a 12 hour Vaporetto pass for 16 euro otherwise its 6.50 euro for a single journey. I caught one to Murano to see the glass blowers and check out all their wares, then another to Burano so I could connect with one to Torchello. Torchello hoped to be Venice before the plague redesigned its future, and now is a mostly quiet collection of houses, restaurants and churches. There is a faint eeriness to it that is interesting. I'd like to spend a night there one time I think. Burano is famous for its lace but what struck me most about it was the brightly coloured houses. Vibrant blues and greens and even pink enhanced the feeling of being in a dream. They had welcome stretches of cool green grass and shady trees near the docks as well so I spent some time laying around there watching the world go by. When I got back to Venice I could still feel the swaying of the sea and it swayed me right into another church when a gust of cool air seduced me through its doors. They smack you dumb these churches, which I guess is the point. Like God himself catching you on the back of the head as you walk in the door and asking through clenched teeth “Believe in me now?” You cant take photos of the inside of a lot of them though so their exact renderings will have to remain mostly inside my head unless you come here. This one was stunning both for its art and the marble decorations, like black and white lace rendered in marble covering every inch of the inside of the church. I wrote most of this on my last night here and was trying not to think too much about leaving. I headed out, grabbed some dinner and then toke my gelato to the bridge to say good bye to the sunset. I walked down to the bridge and though about how to end this, my gelato in hand I took my sunset spot and waited but the sunset never came, in Venice there are no good byes, there is only next time. We had a thunder storm that night, the heat broke and there was little rain but mostly thunder and lightning, the air felt cool and scented with the rain. Today I spent the whole day travelling to get back to London. First a train to Rome, then another to the airport then a plane to Heathrow and finally my old faithful Piccadilly line.
What a way to wake up. Venice feels like its been for me, though I'm sure everybody has that reaction. As I went for my last evening walk, taking more photos than I needed to in fear of forgetting something, I saw bunches of people doing the same thing, last gelatos, last kisses on bridges, last pizza by the canal. Sometimes when things hit you profoundly, you kid yourself into thinking that you're the only one its ever happened to, like falling in love. Go to Venice.