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.