The calafati party down
By · CommentsSan Foca is the patron saint of caulkers, hence he is also the patron of The Societa’ di Mutuo Soccorso fra Carpentieri e Calafati: The Society of Mutual Aid between Carpenters and Caulkers.
I can’t say there’s much work for either of these categories here anymore — certainly not as much as there was when the Venetian Republic was in full cry. But these craftsmen were always near the top of the food chain, considering that Venetian power was essentially naval. A statement to this effect was recorded in the Venetian Senate, for what reason I know not, on July 13, 1487 (translated by me): ”… carpenters and caulkers, have been at all times the most appreciated and accepted on the galleys and other of our ships because in every need of any sort these men are the most adapted and necessary of any other kind of man.” Considering the wear and tear a Venetian ship was likely to undergo in its life, especially after cannon began to be used, your caulker would have been up there with the navigator and the cook as far as the well-being and probable safe return of the crew were concerned.
Glimpse of a battle under the ramparts of Zara (now Zadar) Croatia, from the facade of the church of Santa Maria del Giglio. Just to give an idea of how useful it was to have a carpenter and/or caulker aboard.
The Society's standard, brought out for the occasion.
If you’re still not convinced that caulking is such a big deal, consider how much, as the song goes, you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. An example: On the night before a certain battle, which I’m not going to pause to look up just now, the Venetian admiral was pondering the odds for winning the imminent battle with the unpleasantly superior Turkish fleet. Hope for the best? Or just send a batch of men at night to swim under the Turkish ships and rip out the caulking sealing the planks of their hulls? Dawn broke to what must have been a quiet but busy sound from the Turkish bilges, something like blub-blub-blub….
Back to the mutual aid society. March 5 is San Foca’s feast day, so he was celebrated at a special mass in honor of him as well as the departed members of the sodality. And then, naturally, there was a party. You’ve heard it before: “All the psalms end with the ‘Gloria.’”
The church was full, something you don't see every day.
Seeing that I am a newly fledged (or whatever the ship-caulking counterpart might be) member of the SMSCC, Lino and I went to join in.
The ceremony was in the church of San Martino, which is right under the haunch of the Arsenal, and which is full of assorted tokens of carpentering and caulking. There was nothing especially noteworthy about the mass, except for the unusually large number of people attending. And the party followed tradition in its simplest and clearest outlines: People! Noise! A small, hot room crammed with loud, hungry humans and vats of Venetian food!
I don’t know if San Foca had a favorite dish, but I’m always going to associate him with tripe soup. An ancient and honorable comestible which deserves a wider audience and which I’d bet money you would like as long as you didn’t know what it was.
And I think next year we should all plan to hold the party in Calafat, Romania. It was founded by caulkers from Genoa, but I suppose we could overlook that for the sake of harmony. I’m going to get to work on the convoy’s banners: “Calafat or Bust.”
The priest blesses the gift packets containing a candle, an image of San Foca, and a small bread roll. The painting over the altar depicts the Holy Family with San Marco and San Foca.
My gift packet. The image of San Foca is from the basilica of San Marco. I suppose he is depicted hefting a rudder rather than a bag of dumb irons and a couple of mallets because, as patron saint of seafarers in general, it was thought best not to show favoritism to any particular craft.
Symbols of caulkers' tools in the main aisle of the church of San Martino.
We eat! Of COURSE we can all fit into the tiny room of the parish hall. Where's the food?
Keep that tripe soup coming.
Just the thing on a cold winter night. Be lavish with the grated parmesan, even if it isn't pasta.
The soup keeps you going till they bring out the bigoli in salsa. Or you can just keep snacking on peanuts, pickles, beans, salame sandwiches...
If you go away hungry, it's your own fault.
Close harmony
By · CommentsThis ad was prominently displayed last fall to publicize Vodafone, the European telephone behemoth. Here they are helpfully informing us that they are sponsoring at least some of the restoration of the church of San Bartolomeo, just underfoot near the Rialto Bridge.
Their main message, though, is to promote their new package of special rates for calls to the people who matter the most to you — in their shop just underfoot, etc.
Whatever you may think of them or their packages, their advertising agency is above average.
The line says: ”The most beautiful things are done in pairs (literally, ‘in two’.”
This shred of philosophy made me smile, though probably it doesn’t stand up to heavy pondering.
Cartolina speaks
By · CommentsIt’s been quite a while since I received a transmission from the exceptional “Cartolina,” who wanders the neighborhood in the morning doing his errands and exchanging greetings and comments with passing people, known or otherwise, and also to himself and the Great Unknown.
This brilliant, glistening morning, we were walking toward the vaporetto stop, less admiring the glory of the sunshine than wondering if there were going to be any vaporettos running. Because today — in honor of March 1? in honor of Thursday? in honor of dawn? — a transit strike was planned.
These are battelli, which were not, at the moment, on strike (sciopero: SHO-per-oh).
Cartolina had something to say about that. Of course we all had something to say, but our remarks were of the threadbare, generic sort that usually go with rain or the first day of school.
To understand his utterance, you need to know that the vaporettos are also called battelli (ba-TELL-ee), in Venetian pronounced bateli (ba-TAYee). But the sybil of via Garibaldi is also its Mrs. Malaprop.
So his muttered announcement was not “Sciopero dei bateli” (the vaporettos are on strike), it was “Sciopero dei bateri“: The bacteria are on strike.
Linguists know all about how letters, like “l” and “r,” switch places. But it takes Cartolina to turn a boat into a bacillus.
For all I know, though, that may be precisely what he meant, especially when you consider the contagion which thrives in crowded waterbuses.
No vaporettos, no bacteria. And yes, we have no bananas.
These are photosynthetic cyanobacteria, which bear almost no resemblance to battelli, except in the Grand Canal, where they (the battelli) form big clumps at almost every stop.
Guilty conscience
By · CommentsI am usually able to dominate my conscience in a fairly effective, and moderately long-lasting, way. But I realize that I have let silence reign for longer than intended here on my own little Planet Blog.
I’m not in Venice this month. Which doesn’t mean I still can’t blog about Venice, but that my energies and activities are not centered on the so-called most beautiful city in the world. In fact, they’re not even close. Sorry.
I will do my best to write something before long. Just didn’t want anyone to think I had lost interest, or forgotten, or — God forbid — had run out of things to say. Like that could ever happen.
Nor have I been stolen by people in ski masks who forgot to leave a ransom note.
Back soon.
