Capturing the spirit of Venice into words feels like quite a task, and I find myself wishing I had a poet's use of language at my disposal. I use words like "beautiful" again and again - there are not enough words to choose from! - for all of these sights truly are such a marvel.
Determined not to ask for directions to the hostel from the bus station on Thursday (don't know why, just the mood of the day), I allowed my intuition to start guiding me, as I couldn't find a single street sign. There were a couple of u-turns, but overall, we faired quite well, through pedestrian streets and over bridges, and I was soon headed in the correct direction - just my gut and a "summary" map (i.e. with many street names missing) from my Lonely Planet book. When I got to what looked like the right spot, I turned down a narrow road, and found #2370, 2371 (I was looking for 2372) before the road ended, and a canal passed through. I left, walked around some more, and then returned to this little street. How could this not be it? (My backpack is getting heavier and heavier...) An older gentleman suddenly turned down the alley, and, seeing me, immediately pointed across the canal from where we were standing, while talking with great spirit (in Italian). I clarified that I was looking for a hostel, but of course, he had figured this out based on my location and my appearance (possibly also my odour). He again pointed to across the canal, and then started giving me directions with large hand gestures, and again, lots of enthusiastic Italian. I caught the word "ponte" (bridge) from everything he was saying, and his hand motions were abundantly clear - left, left, over the bridge, left. No problem. And now, the best part. I followed his directions, and as I approached the lane for the hostel on the other side of the canal from where I had just been, I heard a man's voice yelling. My Italian angel-man was now leaning out of his 3rd story apartment window, clearly watching for me coming and cheering me on, pointing me in the right direction, smiling. I smiled, waved, blew him a kiss. Welcome to Venice.
Venice is both everything and nothing like I had pictured. One sees many photos of this city, and hears: "The streets are canals!" "There are no cars!" "There are crazy pigeons everywhere!" Yes, yes, and yes. Venice looks like it does in the pictures, and this beauty is evident at each turn. Certainly not a case of the tourism department selecting a particularly nice looking canal or building and putting that one on all of the brochures, it feels as though every street, every canal, holds such beauty, romance, mystery. The city, sinking, it's true, has 118 islands and over 400 bridges. There are 6 districts, and addresses don't actually include the street name - just the district and then a number. Needless to say, my favourite thing to do is to put the map away and just walk, seeing where I end up. (On the first night, it was rather far from where I thought I would, but my accuracy is improving.) The main streets are filled with tourists, but if you leave the beaten path, there are seemingly endless narrow alleys, picturesque bridges, and good-looking gondoliers singing in Italian as they paddle...
I cannot begin to capture everything that has been these past 3 1/2 days, and so I will share some "vignettes", memories such as...
Floating down the Grand Canal on a gondola: In coming here, I knew that blowing my budget on this quintessential Venetian experience was a must, both for the sake of doing it, and also as symbolic of truly embracing the being a single woman travelling alone thing. The most expensive thing I've done yet, I took in every moment of this experience, first on the Grand Canal and then weaving through smaller and quainter ones, watching the houses go by, enjoying being on the water, enjoying the sounds of our charming and not-hard-to-look-at gondolier as he sang Italian love songs...
Eating pizza and gelato on my first night here, and, still feeling stubborn I guess, wanting pictures, but not wanting to ask anyone to take them. And so, there are a variety of ridiculous self-portraits of me stuffing my face on the streets of this lovely city.
Depth of connection with human beings, including Matthew, from South Africa, who I met at breakfast on Friday morning. We met over my organic granola and his organic green tea, and after talking about the commodification of water and Karl Marx, as well as travelling, music, people, we set out together to visit the Jewish Ghetto (the word Ghetto actually originated in Venice - Jewish people in Vienna were confined to this one island for over 200 years). We wandered together for several hours on Friday, and then the entire day yesterday. What a gift to be able to spend the day yesterday with someone who I felt I had known much longer than 24 hours. The day included a visit to the Peggy Guggenheim Modern Art Collection, (http://www.guggenheim-venice.it/inglese/default.html), espresso, ice cream, a beautiful sunset from Giudecca Island (just south of the city centre), and a traditional Venetian dinner of risotto with cuttlefish ink (which is actually completely black from the fish ink)! In addition to all of this "doing", conversations, both intense and goofy, made the day incredibly memorable.
Flooding in Piazza San Marco (flooding is a regular occurrence in Venice, at times more serious than others - at public transit stops there are city maps posted detailing the elevated points in the city, so that pedestrians have a safe route of travel when the main routes are flooded): The flooding in this most famous city square was minor on Friday, with a depth of less than a foot in the worst places. Still, the only way to get to the Basilica, or many sights in the square, was to take off one's shoes, and wade through the water. As long as this was done without thinking of the cleanliness of Venetian canal water, it was wonderful to walk around shoe-less through this majestic city square, with hundreds and hundreds of others doing the exact same thing. Absolute and wonderful mayhem.
Watching a little old Italian man fishing in the Grand Canal, while sitting on the steps of the grand Santa Maria del Salute church...Watching him catch a fish, put it in a little plastic bag, and then nonchalantly returning to his fishing while the bag moved around beside him...Watching people being dive-bombed by pigeons constantly...
Purchasing my train ticket to Verona today at the train station: I purchased this at a machine, and was taking my time in using this machine for the first time, figuring out instructions in Italian. An Italian woman behind me in line took it upon herself to, without talking to me, press the buttons for me. Clearly, my state of zen about moving through the world at a less-rushed pace is not shared by all.
The jellybean houses on the island of Burano: I visited this island today, which is famous for its lacework and the vibrant (and I mean vibrant) colours of its houses. With a lovely view of the surrounding "lagoon", I sat in the sun (30 degrees Celsius) with my journal. I also made a quick stop on the island of Murano, famous for its glasswork.
The "simplicty" of the hostel where I am staying, with regards to which I am certainly not complaining, given the relative cost of many other essentials in this city, and also the fact that all of my accommodations up to this point have been glorious. Thus, I can laugh at the bathroom where you can choose to have either a lock OR a light, or the dorm where there is one bedside lamp to share between two people, and nowhere to plug it in...
Public transit entirely by boat, the "vaporetto", where passengers are packed in like sardines while travelling down the picturesque canal system, and the crew yell "Permission! Permission!" as they struggle through this highly packed-in crowd in order to properly dock the boat at each stop.
I need to pee, so I might as well buy a coffee and sit down for a while: The cost of using a public toilet in Venice is £1,50 (paying for public toilets is quite typical in Europe, but this is by farrr the steepest price I have seen yet). When out of touristy areas, you can get a coffee for £2, and so, when you gotta go, for an extra 50 cents, you can get a coffee out of the deal.
All of the moments in which the clearly-not-the-rule stereotypes of Italian culture I hold indeed come true, from the wild hand gestures and dramatic cadence of speech in an older couple arguing in the street or of a boat driver yelling at another for running into him, to Italian children joyfully playing "football" in the alleys of Venice, to the highly flirtatious behaviour of the gondoliers. It's truly delightful, and I am excited to spend several more weeks in this country!
Tuning into my intuition continues to be an important theme, of course in the big moments, but also in small-decision making. I also continue to note my tendency to over-think everything (not new information, clearly), rather than just making a decision and going with it. My plan had been that I would spend 3 nights in this city, but I noted this morning that even the thought of putting on my backpack was exhausting. Besides, it felt like there was more here for me to see, and that I simply needed some time to let the experiences of the past few days really steep. I am truly grateful that I made this decision, as the trips to the islands today were at my pace, and the sights were lovely. I was able to extend my stay by a day with no hassle at all, and I leave for fair Verona tomorrow morning...
Ciao!
With love xo
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