As you know, just going outside and walking around here — as everywhere, probably — provides all sorts of opportunities to observe the strangeness of people and life.
Let’s take tourists. Yes, they’re back — not millions of them, but a choice assortment. The number is increasing as we approach the launch of the Venice Film Festival next Wednesday, September 2, but I don’t think that has anything to do with the glimpses I’ve had. This is not a screed about tourists, they’re just one part of the summer scenery.
It was nearing midnight when we boarded this vaporetto bound for home, and who should board but Hermann of the Teutoburg Forest, with his substantial wife and daughter (not visible here, but I can tell you she was feeling the heat and the trip, bless her heart).I turned the corner coming back from the supermarket and discovered visitors. The door facing them leads to an apartment rented to tourists, and we’ve just begun getting used to seeing them come and go again. But this was the first time I’d ever seen anyone imagine that they’d also rented the street, and its walls. (The green shutters to the left belong to our kitchen window.) There’s so much to wonder about here. Do they sprawl on the street back in their own city? I know that many men feel that the T-shirt is the emblem of freedom from the daily necktie. Street-sprawling is freedom from … chairs? I was wondering how to politely ask them to move, then realized that the sun would soon be taking care of that — it moves from right to left here, so before very long that refreshing shadow will have disappeared and the street will be broiling. When I glanced outside again, they had gone somewhere else.
Fun fact (that caption was already too long): I could only say “sprawl,” but there’s a great word in Venetian for what’s he’s doing: stravacar (strah-vah-KAR). It’s based on “vacca,” the Italian word for cow. Hence, lolling about like a cow in the field.
This bridge, which I cross many times a day because it’s the one nearest our house, exerts an occult force upon people, compelling them to stop at the bottom right corner. It’s usually three or four women, or a few men, with or without children, dogs, or shopping carts; they tend to cluster there for leisurely confabulations. Evidently this is a sort of intersection, but the fact remains that it’s pretty inconvenient for anyone trying to pass in either direction. Sure, I can make a wide turn, that’s not a problem. None of this is a problem (except for the really old people who need to hold onto the railing). But why a tourist would want to stop at that specific spot is a mystery. Photos — I understand that bridges are the perfect setting for photos of your girlfriend in Venice. But at the bottom of the bridge? Seated? In the shadow? And — may I repeat — at the corner where inevitably someone will be wanting to pass, or dogs to piss (not made up)? And if it has to be a corner, why not the other corner?
I know nothing about this situation; the clip was forwarded to me by a friend via WhatsApp. My friend says it’s not a joke, and frankly, it’s hard to tell anymore when people are serious and when they’re just fooling around (though the fact that her entire outfit is some shade of pink also deserves notice). It looks like the marinaio who is supervising the boarding is taking her seriously. Using both of his hands to indicate “The boat’s already full” means it’s seriously already full. Too bad we couldn’t have put her on the vaporetto with Hermann and his backpack. I could have taken bets, like at a cockfight.
This extraordinary boat was tied up here for a few days. I’ve seen boats in all the stages of life, but never one so gloriously unkempt and so proudly loved: “The most beautiful boat in Venice,” it says in Venetian. Its mother must have stuck that label on it one day as it was going to school.There’s something enchanting about this thing — it’s like it took a wrong turn on Reelfoot Lake and ended up here. The curious wooden seats fold outward in a cunning way to form a table, and the mini-motor is the perfect touch; normally, 40 horses are the fewest you’ll almost ever see on boats around here.Massimo and Luca have taken two weeks off, and they left their fruit and vegetable boat in a state of unprecedented order and cleanliness. The planter they keep on the bow contains some useful herbs, but this sturdy little sentinel rosebud seems to have been left on watch till they return. Perhaps on the night before they come back, all the petals will fall off, in a sort of “Mission accomplished” kind of way.This woman knows her cat. I would never have thought that you could just open a carrier in a public (i.e., not safe and familiar) place and know that the feline would do nothing more than glare at you all the way home. The creature might have been on some tranquilizing medication, but if that were the case it doesn’t explain the glare. Supposing that this is her pet’s natural expression makes me feel uneasy, but not as uneasy as noticing that they’re traveling in what appears to be the my-mask-refuses-to-cover-my-nose section of the vaporetto.Let me set the scene: This is a four-oar sandolo, which for reasons of safety Lino always positions on its little cart with the bow downward.This is the same boat before it was repaired, in the same position in its shed. The bow is down, protruding just far enough outside the roof that it caught the rain from a recent storm. Rain has visibly accumulated, but rain isn’t supposed to accumulate on your boat, especially if it’s made of wood. In fact, a simple solution was discovered centuries ago: A little hole called an ombrinale. As long as gravity is still working, the water will drain out all by itself.But as you see, the water is just sitting there, because as you can also see, in this case the ombrinale was drilled on the OPPOSITE side of the little piece of barrier wood — a piece of wood that was placed there specifically to compel the water to flow out through the ombrinale.I am obsessed with this; It’s a perfect example of “You had ONE JOB.” These boats aren’t mass-produced, they’re made by hand, one at a time. I have tried to find, or even invent, an explanation, but I guess it will just have to continue to speak for itself.But let’s forget about boats and go ashore. Here is a fondamenta near our house. You can see, reasonably far ahead, something in the center of the walkway. Old Venice hands recognize it as sawdust, and the same hands know it’s there for one specific purpose: To cover an unusual quantity of dog poop, thus preventing an unwary person from stepping in it. So far, so good.It’s pretty big, hard to miss. And there’s clearly plenty of room to walk around it.But maybe not. I understand the bicycle treadmarks, at least they’re around the edges and besides, only kids are riding them. It’s the grown-up footprint smack in the center that makes me reflect on the person who did not see it coming. No sarcasm here — if you don’t see this from half a street away, something way more important is going on in your life, and I can only be thankful that the sawdust-distributor got there first.Meanwhile, there’s always this…And this…And, of course, this.
What was it you said, Erla, “people are amazing, but not always in good ways”, apropos the flamingo woman. 😄
The thing about people, not just tourists, always clogging together at the most awkward place available is really fascinating. Someone should write a dissertation on the subject. People that can’t figure out how to wear a mask 😷 and what the mask is good for is also a puzzle yet to solve.
Lovely pictures and great to hear from you!
Stay safe!
The image of the “Flamingo Woman” will – alas! – stay with me for a long time! I’m still not sure I didn’t imagine it …. hang on, I’ll just pop back and have another look ….. no, I didn’t.
Why young people sit on the ground where Dogs pee [ and Men ] I will never understand .
When I’m 92 [ quite some time from now ] I will go up to them and
give them a slap, but not just now, as I have way to much to loose .
How about a little book of etiquette for tourists ??? to be headed out
to every non-local ?
Ken
Smokey Napa Ca.
Delightful article. I grew up in a cultural-tourism center (the Berkshires), then spent 30+ years working in museums, history museums to be specific, which means more decades in cultural-tourism centers. I know the tourism phenomena so well. I can account for sitting in the street (too few places to sit in museums; though in Venice there is always a handy church); I can understand stepping in poo (gazing upward at the architecture); but I’ve never been able to account for tourists’ sometimes bizarre choices in costume. And believe me, back in the privacy of the employee lunch room, even the most composed museum staff exchange stories and howl with laughter at the clothing they’ve seen. Ultimately, I’m glad they are there, but it’s umm… fascinating… to realize they looked in the mirror and thought about it before heading out the door. 🙂
7 Comments
Cara Erla,
Mi mancha il vicinato! Thanks for another wonderful guided tour.
Owen
As usual, your blog is so articulate and expressive of your love for Venice.
Thanks for letting me see it through your eyes, dear Pal
What was it you said, Erla, “people are amazing, but not always in good ways”, apropos the flamingo woman. 😄
The thing about people, not just tourists, always clogging together at the most awkward place available is really fascinating. Someone should write a dissertation on the subject. People that can’t figure out how to wear a mask 😷 and what the mask is good for is also a puzzle yet to solve.
Lovely pictures and great to hear from you!
Stay safe!
Vojo piu “Meanwhile there’s always this…”. Please.
The image of the “Flamingo Woman” will – alas! – stay with me for a long time! I’m still not sure I didn’t imagine it …. hang on, I’ll just pop back and have another look ….. no, I didn’t.
Why young people sit on the ground where Dogs pee [ and Men ] I will never understand .
When I’m 92 [ quite some time from now ] I will go up to them and
give them a slap, but not just now, as I have way to much to loose .
How about a little book of etiquette for tourists ??? to be headed out
to every non-local ?
Ken
Smokey Napa Ca.
Delightful article. I grew up in a cultural-tourism center (the Berkshires), then spent 30+ years working in museums, history museums to be specific, which means more decades in cultural-tourism centers. I know the tourism phenomena so well. I can account for sitting in the street (too few places to sit in museums; though in Venice there is always a handy church); I can understand stepping in poo (gazing upward at the architecture); but I’ve never been able to account for tourists’ sometimes bizarre choices in costume. And believe me, back in the privacy of the employee lunch room, even the most composed museum staff exchange stories and howl with laughter at the clothing they’ve seen. Ultimately, I’m glad they are there, but it’s umm… fascinating… to realize they looked in the mirror and thought about it before heading out the door. 🙂