One could do very well here not reading or listening to the news — though eventually one would miss something good — but there would be no point in living in Venice if you couldn’t wander around just looking at things. And things there always are, needing no introduction and often no comprehension. If you require that the world make sense, don’t come here. Go somewhere logical, like Naples, or Lagos. I speak from experience.
But back to Venice:
This building has clearly led several useful lives. You don’t need that archway anymore? Brick it up and punch out a window. But the arch presented problems for later revisions; the owners had to slice a corner off the panel on the wall near its arch ring to accommodate it. And what to do with that fireplace hovering above it? That fireplace has become a small obsession of mine. Its floor should be parallel to the street, one would think, but the arch has left it to fend for itself.Speaking of trying to fit things into a squeezy space there is this barge, which needed to park here. No room? No problem! Just let the part that doesn’t fit stretch out into the street. It wouldn’t surprise me to see a truck parked like this in some city on the mainland, so why should it make me blink here by the canal?This is a very happy scene. A few whiles back, somebody smashed the plaque and offering box to bits. In a cit y where everything is tending to fall to pieces that might not merit much attention. But the inscription has always intrigued me: “Acknowledging Archpriest Giovanni Cotin 1915 1918 the inhabitants of Quintavalle. Offerings.” Quintavalle is a little lobe of land behind the church of San Pietro di Castello, and it is truly the back of beyond. What Giovanni Cotin did to merit the love and gratitude of its residents is something I AM going to find out. But meanwhile, by some miraculous hand(s), the damage has been repaired. The story could end here, but I am fascinated by the fact that they installed an awning to protect the relief image of the Madonna and Child from the blazing sun. The image is of bronze, for heaven’s sake. Does bronze need protection? I wouldn’t have thought so, but perhaps they think it’s the mother and her baby, and not the art work itself, that need some shade, which is enchanting, and somehow shows as much reverence and affection as the plaque. Quintavalle, I underestimated you.Let’s move indoors. There is an art to managing the superstitions involving the number 13. We were invited to a festive lunch in a popular and crowded place where they tape a piece of paper by your table to indicate the time and number of people to be seated. (Also the name of the person who made the reservation, which I have removed.) It is known to be desperately bad luck to write that there are 13 people in a group — as I understand it, which I mostly don’t — so they have cleverly written the number of diners as 12 + 1. It doesn’t seem that there BEING 13 people is a problem, you just can’t write it. But the time is 1300 hours, or 1:00 PM. Obviously “13” gets all kinds of waivers in the luck department.More messages, and chalk is just as good as carved stone if the sentiment has that lapidary character. On the bar at a cafe by the Rialto market: “The client is always right … is a concept invented by a client…The person who is right is one who is polite, courteous and understanding of whoever is working.” If you don’t agree, by all means feel free to get out and go elsewhere. That’s written in invisible chalk.On the door to the restroom of a bar/cafe. Speaks for itself.I’m on this staircase in the Doge’s Palace only once a year — it’s closed to the public — so I have to make the most of it. Late afternoon makes so many things look good.
