Venezia: Perspectives On The City Of Canals

And now for a little travel post, a summer read for your pleasure:

Oh Venice, Venezia, the beautiful city, poetry in boat and bridge form. There sits the indy young female traveler. She unbuttons her leather gloves preparing to nibble a Margherita pizza at a tiny cafe on the harbor overlooking an ancient basilica, drinking in the ambiance. A Venetian woman hardened to the charms of this touristic wonderland. She holds still, eyes glazed on the water boat metro (Vaporetto) as swarms of people scrunch past her with the ever-present inflection of "Permesso, Permesso," (excuse me.) The small child, buttoned up in a wool coat and matching hat, heels clicking across a cobblestone square. She only knows life within the confines of narrow alleyways, piazzas with only one tree planted in the middle. The withered leaves holding all the oxygen of the appartamento’s lining the square built in the 14th century surrounding the Jewish ghetto.

This city, where people breath deep and long sharing the same cluttered archways with pedestrians, boats, scooters and bicycles. Where the same stories are retold on Latin tongues buried deep in cappuccinos at restaurants where recipes are passed down through each generation. A city where the modern artists mimic old ideas retold from the floors of Cathedrals transforming to canvas in techno colors in a galleria stinking of formaldehyde or sewage. A smell that is the base layer of Vencie, stinky, fanciful, man made and imagined. The very wealthy living in a bubble of comfort. The very local living down secret alleyways never touched by the tourist track.

Mist comes in soft puffs down the grand canal, leaving a tiny veil on the fine china cups used to sip espresso in the morning. A cloud of moisture over the calloused hands of the rope tiers who bring the vaporetto to a stop for loading and unloading. The same damp that musses the feathers of pigeons ready to dance in the puddles of Piazza Saint Marco. This veil that captures the mystery of this thoroughly man-made city.

How perfect that glass blowing is the chosen art form of this place. What a delicate and strong art form for a city steeped in fantasy and hard labor.  

From 20's to 30's

Lately I have been thinking a lot about what it was like being in my 20's. Most of these thoughts turn to nostalgia. I think about being care free and untethered. I remember what it was like to pick up and go and find myself in all kinds of excellent adventures. Free spirit was the name they attached to my life style. I tend to marvel at the audacity of my younger self. Life was really cut open at that point and I intended to experience it all. Lots of lovers, travels, activism, jobs and experiences. The 20's mullet mom always said yes to random occurrence and often spent time in new and unusual ways. She would call people out on the bus for negatively catching her attention. She would spend dark nights at cafes writing then walk the 5 miles home after missing the late bus. She rode her bike in the rain and picked up odd jobs, mostly playing with kids, then would save enough to travel and go on escapades all over the world.

I sometimes miss that whimsy and envy that freedom and then I remember the not so rosy side of being in my 20's. A good show to watch as a reminder of the hardship of being in your 20's is HBO’s "Girls." Lena Dunham does an excellent job portraying her generation’s age and the time that happens for some folks post college entering the adult world. Mostly she shows how awkward it is to discover oneself. All the insecurity and pain experienced in this age of trying to find connection and home. Dunham shows all the insecurity in her main characters as they go through gross sexual experiences, labor oppression, striving for dreams and falling flat, trying new things and being put in painful and awkward situations.

Not feeling like you have people or a home is a really challenging experience. In my 20's I went from house to house. I had high hopes for a career then had to look through the realistic lens of making money. I had to fake so much experience to try and fit into an adult standard of how to act in order to get a job. That sense of freedom came with the price of an intense un-rootedness. I definitely had people close to me at that time, very close considering I moved so much but still felt that sense of isolation and needing to figure it all out with little help. At the same time I cherish what I did in my 20's and am so proud of that younger me who tried so many things and was this punk rock queer radical who didn't let oppression get her down and also I am glad to be done with that time.

From Mylifescoop.com

In my 30's I am still considered a free spirit but it looks different now. I live my life in connection with a family that nourishes my soul. I have found ways of being safe and taking care of myself while still pushing the envelope. I live a little less on the edge and am benefiting from it. I know myself more and what I am about. I know there are surprises yet to be discovered in my future but now I know I have that safety net to return to at the end of it. I still consider myself a punk rock queer. I still shrink at most things adult, like investments, making lots of money and status through objects. I am coming into my own with the balance of being ok with embracing some securities of the adult world and at the same time living it on my own terms. Part of this is moving to Tulsa, the happy medium of my adult life. I don't know if we will be here forever but I do know I will be here long enough to have Sweetpea be a teen and grow a fruit tree to fruition.  I will see what life dishes out in the coming years. I turn 33 this June, my lucky number.