Events

Navy Day

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The poster above the entrance to the Naval Museum was almost the only publicity for the big day, but you could still tell that something was up. The enormous grandstand in the Piazza San Marco was one clue, and so was the majestic presence of the naval training ship "Amerigo Vespucci."

This might shock you, but there was a huge festa here on June 8 that was not attached to any saint, living or dead, as far as I could tell.

I intended to report on this sooner, but what with tornados and all, it’s taken me this long to return to happy thoughts.

It was the Festa della Marina Militare, or Festival of the Navy, and it also happened to be the 50th anniversary of the founding — or re-founding — of the Francesco Morosini Naval School where Lino teaches Venetian rowing. One of the highlights of this event was the swearing-fealty-to-the-flag by the first-year class, which makes them officially members of the Navy with the low but respectable rank of second-class seamen.  No joke, they get the same pay as their swabby confreres who aren’t studying chemistry and bird skeletons.

The invitation with tickets came from the Department of the Navy, which might explain Lino's name turning up as "Lucio." But they weren't cross-checking ID's, so it was okay. The main thing was that we had seats in the red section, which were bleachers with seats. People in the green and white sections had to stand.

So a vast parade was organized in the Piazza San Marco involving not only the three classes of the school, but virtually every other branch of the armed forces and a regiment of alumni, many of whom showed up in their work clothes, by which I mean uniforms of admirals, generals of the Carabinieri, Guardia di Finanza, Mountain Artillery, Army, Air Force, etc., as well as the dark suits of Senators and Ministers.  The Secretary of Defense was here, the Secretary of the Navy was here, and even the President of the Republic was here. It was all far beyond cool.  The only person who could have made it any cooler would have been Jean Dujardin. Maybe they sent the invitation to Joan of Arc by mistake.

The weather cooperated (no scorching sun and only a few drops of rain), no cadets dropped to the pavement, and the speeches were only moderately silly and only moderately too long.  As usual, the Navy Band played the national anthem about 15 times, not always completely (it seems to act as a sort of aural page-turning cue, like the beep that used to tell your teacher it was time to change the slide).  Hearing the national anthem so many times noticeably diminishes its emotional impact.  If you’d like to know my opinion. Or even if you wouldn’t.

It was a great event and I’m glad I was there.  I doubt I’ll be able to make it interesting to my grandchildren, but I’ll enjoy looking back on it.

The sail training ship "Amerigo Vespucci" was launched in 1931 and is still looking exceptionally fine.
We could also sense a big event was on the way by the quantity of naval officers roaming the area. Here, a batch of them boards the vaporetto toward San Marco.
On the same vaporetto was a member of the Marinai in Congedo, or discharged sailors' association, bearing the case containing their standard. The yellow ribbon, worn by many member of the Navy (and graduates of the Morosini school) demonstrates their solidarity with the two "maro'," or Marines, imprisoned in India in February for having shot two fishermen whom they took to be pirates heading for the tanker ship.
In Italian they call them "Sir," just like the men. I think it works, myself, though these are definitely superior-looking Sirs.
Part of the preparation involved the Gunga Din brigade, positioning bottled water at various points.
The Navy flag can never be too large.
Some of the horde of Morosini alumni ready to take the stage.
The flag of the President of the Republic flying beneath the national flag alerts everyone to the imminent appearance of himself.
The three classes of the Morosini Naval School face the reviewing stand.
Their uniform looks great, but the strap connected to their small swords is positioned at a length perfect for trousers. If you're wearing a skirt, though, it becomes just another senseless maddening thing to deal with. 'It would drive me crazy to have that catching at my hem,' I told Lino. 'It drives them crazy too,' he replied. Just another reminder of why I'd never have made it in the military.
One component of the ceremony was this group of officers bearing the flags of each of the Navy's ships. They called each ship by name, too.
If you love flags, you've definitely come to the right piazza. These belong to many and various ex-enlisted-men groups.
This, however, is not just another banner. It's the standard bearing all the medals which the Navy has earned in combat.
The third-year class, whose flag bears the name and motto of "Hermes," marches in review.
The second-year class, "Oceanus." In the foreground are the distinctive caps of the cadets of the Military Academy of Modena, the oldest in the world (founded in 1678).
The first-year class, "Prometheus," has just sworn its allegiance to the flag and the Italian Republic, the high point of the entire event.
The banners of the 49 preceding classes are carried in review.
One of three groups of alumni marches past the reviewing stand.
The President, Giorgio Napolitano, watches with perfect equipoise.
And this group of children was watching him, waving their little flags like crazy. From a distance, it was like a beehive with flags.
There was so much saluting going on, I had time to observe various styles. The man on the left remains inexplicable. I don't mean that he salutes like a fan, which obviously I don't understand, but that he has evidently been permitted to do so.
She was in every way superior to all of the women I saw. If she'd had pulled on a Spanx Slim Incognito Shaping Mid-Thigh Bodysuit, she'd have been perfect.
And when it was over, a superior chaos ensued, composed of many different vehicles assembled to remove the most important participants. As you see, there were plenty.
But not everybody rated special transport. The men with the banners of the ships had to take the vaporetto, like a million other people.
As did a variety of other officials. I was already on the vaporetto, so I didn't hear the comments from the civilians who were obviously going to have to board after them.
Speaking of getting off, the peasants on the vaporetto had to wait while a Navy launch put some officers ashore on the dock — strictly forbidden, according to a sign from the Capitaneria di Porto. But you know how those signs work. In any case, it gave us time to savor our memories of the day.
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Boatworld, Events

Rowing Mary home

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Once again, May has come to an end (you needed me to tell you that) and we closed the 31st in the usual way, by joining the annual procession which accompanies the statue of the Madonna and Jesus from the church of San Pietro di Castello to her home base in the church of San Francesco di Paola. Even though, technically speaking, the feast of Maria Ausiliatrice is May 24, here it’s on May 31.

One small improvement in the modest lineup of boats that usually forms her escort was that Lino suggested we row a caorlina, which is noticeably bigger than the modest little mascareta we usually use.  In this way, we could set up folding chairs in the boat and carry people who might have wanted to participate by floating rather than by walking.

Weather good.  Crowd large and earnest.  Not as many people watching from the windows as there have been in some years, but perhaps there were more on the ground.

The loudspeaker wasn’t too capricious (a plus), but for some reason the priest chose a couple of everyday hymns as part of the event, completely ignoring the hymn associated specifically with this festival (a very large minus).  This is one tradition which has absolutely no need of being re-fangled.

I’m going to have to complain to the management.  Just as soon as she’s back on her pedestal.

On the evening of May 24, the statue was borne from the church of San Francesco di Paola to the church of San Pietro di Castello. The entire parish followed along, everyone reciting the prayers. A stroll after dinner is always a good thing, especially one like this.
Around 9:00 PM on May 31, the statue was brought out of the church, followed by her retinue of assorted parishioners and acolytes.
The corteo begins, backed by a stretch of Arsenal wall.
One of the few boats forming the procession carried several generations of the family. Always good to have a youngster at the bow, on the lookout for -- I don't know -- police boats. Seppie. Anything.
They look more pensive than absolutely necessary. I wonder if they were sorry they came aboard.
The cortege makes its first turn.
Moving the Madonna under the bridges was slightly challenging.

Turning past the Arsenal.

 

By the time we reach the end, it's almost night. This is just one of the evening's many beautiful elements.

 

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Boatworld, Events

America’s Cup album

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Due to a small technical tangle, I couldn’t add much illustration to my post about the America’s Cup.

Now that the tangle has been untied, here goes:

The American contender on the left strolls past the Italian contender on the right. It’s nice to see where some of those millions earned from software and handbags has turned up, in case you ever wondered.
Possibly the first time the Cup has been displayed in a gondola, but it was excellent to see it in the flesh, so to speak.
Two fans at the finals. Boats? Don't bother us.
More excitement in the stands.
The only participants who had more fun than the winner were the police. I’m imagining they had to draw lots to choose the men who got this assignment, otherwise there’d have been violence.
They totally loved doing this. All this white water was only a tiny fraction of the waveage created by all the official boats from every branch of every conceivable service, often going very fast. Which brought to mind the oddness of using so many motors at an event devoted to sailing -- though no odder, I suppose, than the motors required to conduct horse racing and skiing.
It was a good day for selling flags of the competing countries.
The window of “Alice in Wonderland” was loaded with a flotilla of vitreous craft in full sail, not to mention assorted marine mosaics.
The stationery and school-supplies store got in the groove.
The dancing-gear emporium did what it could, but the idea of rope and toe shoes makes me feel strangely apprehensive.
The boutique-soap-and-mystic-lamp store did a neat job of mystically floating the boat on a mystic pool of vapor.
A rusty anchor is always appropriate.
Even cooler is the pair of ancient diving boots. I could use some of these on the vaporetto.
The funky-clothing store made AmCup garb out of I'm not really sure what.
The lady who makes wedding favors sailed far into the past with this baby. Stand by to repel boarders.
Her best touch was the silver-coated shells. The globe was nice, too, lest we forget that before fiber-optic catamarans there were real ships that did real things.
Fireboats hurling water are extremely entertaining when they're not actually facing a fire. And as several wags on the shore remarked, if the crews got soaked, well, they're used to it.
The schooner that started it all: "America" in 1887. Of course, she also sang all the verses and the chorus of "You could never afford this, and even if you could, you probably wouldn't know what to do with it." But she sang it in a very different key.
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