Outside a gelateria in calle de le Rasse. It says it all.
Italy, like many other parts of Europe, has been pounded by intense heat the past month or so. Maybe more. It all begins to blur.
So to the usual end-of-summer entropy we add debilitating temperatures. Outraged articles in the press, here and abroad, have focused largely on the usual tourist scourge, but I feel more than usually sorry for them, especially their little children. If the little ones aren’t at the beach, they shouldn’t be here at all, wandering the sweltering, exhausting, meaningless streets with no end in sight. But I digress.
I have seen an assortment of diverting little moments and things, so here are some of them. They contain no meaning or significance of any sort except that I like them. If that counts as significance.
The survival instinct seen in its simplest and purest form. The shadows aren’t trees, but tall furled umbrellas at the nearby trattoria. It’s not even 8:00 AM but the dog isn’t flustered, even with fur.It’s perfect that he’s the same color as the pavement. Safe from any predators that might be roaming the veldt, and cooler than me, by any standard.I may have shown this before, but it remains one of my favorite fragments. I have no idea what inspired this lapidary Venetian comment on life, but it’s hard to dispute: “When I speak, nobody listens. When they listen, they don’t understand. When they understand, they forget.” (Note to lovers of Italian: “co” in Venetian isn’t always short for “con,” but sometimes for “quando.” Don’t blame me, I just got here.)Saturday, August 26. Balloons mean party, and white means matrimony. Happy news for everybody except maybe a few guests, who would otherwise at this point in the summer have been far away, taking their vacation in Croatia or Cortina.Confirmation on the balloons: Evviva gli sposi! Long live the newlyweds!
Sunday, August 27: The sposi, as celebrated by their friends. We heard the bells ringing yesterday and they sounded joyous despite the 90+-degree (F.) weather. This document was taped to the metal fence along the canal.This is the derelict church of Sant’ Ana (not the church where Piero and Carlotta were married). They got hitched at the nearby famous and important church of San Pietro di Castello, while this once-important entity has long since just been left by the roadside, so to speak. The four rectangles of earth in the forecourt have been as forlorn and neglected as the church. But as you see, plants are returning!This view shows the four very sad, once-briefly-verdant, patches of beaten earth in front of the church. These rectangles were somebody’s acknowledgment that even a small bit of green could mitigate the melancholy, but whoever it was didn’t remember that people would actually be walking here. I can attest that it just feels silly to keep to the walkways when I need to go diagonally, and you can see that everybody else has felt the same way. As water naturally runs downhill, people naturally walk in the straightest line between points A and B. Result: bare earth where many feet have trod, barely discernible here beneath the shadow.Look at the upper right-hand corner of the photo, which is also the upper right rectangle of land. Tell me honestly that you would have made two consecutive 90-degree turns in order to stay on the pavement while heading for the small passageway. If you would, you amaze me, and you would probably be happier living in Norway.But look! Things can change (we knew that) for the better (we certainly didn’t know that). This unruly plot is at the zenith of its garden-ness, the result of being an “aiuola adottata.” Could mean flowerbed, could mean greensward, could mean any remnant of land that could support roots and leaves. And it has been adopted! This is not yet a productive market garden and it certainly isn’t Kew Gardens, but my hat is off to anybody who has done anything to redeem the desolation of this little patch of Venice.You’ve heard of rescue animals, this is rescue ground. The fine print reveals that the program is under the aegis of the city of Venice, and the ancient and esteemed local association Societa’ di Mutuo Soccorso Carpentieri e Calafati http://www.smscc.it/. (Full disclosure: I am a member.) Not to forget the volunteers of the “green spaces” section of a group called We Are Here Venice https://www.weareherevenice.org/.The zucchine and beans may not flourish yet, or ever, but this is perfect.
I will have to let you know whatever improvement is made on the ill-fated footpath rectangle. I think it would be excellent for them accept that people want to cross there, and to install one of those wooden walkways that you see in swamps. Maybe plant the rest of the area with (finish this sentence please).
It would be nice if somehow the nizioleto here, that once said Campo S. Ana, could be repaired along with the terrain. The plight of the city’s battered nizioleti is the concern of the Nizioleti e Masegni group of volunteers (full disclosure….) https://www.masegni.org/. But periodic cleanup is easier than convincing the city to reconstruct street signs that have been reduced to the point of being utterly useless.I love you too, Luca of the fruit and vegetable barge. As for Muro, I could love them for having created this insouciant little greeting.Muro is the name of two restaurants, one at the Frari and the other at San Stae. This isn’t a plug for the places themselves, where I have never gone, but it’s a huge high-five for whoever thought up this T-shirt. https://www.murovenezia.com/en/As I was saying, dogs just seem to know what to do in the heat. First thing: Find shadow. Second: Lie still. They all do it so well.
I am working on a longer post — several, in fact — but meanwhile nibble these few morsels.
This is the apotheosis of Easter eggs in Venice, everything displayed in the glorious window of Drogheria Mascari at the Rialto Market. Most smaller pastry and chocolate shops offer some variety of eggs, as do all the supermarkets. Size, variety, glamor (cost, too, of course) all come into play when you’re deciding on the essence of Easter delectation. The price also reflects, to a certain extent, the value of the little doodad hidden inside. Did I mention they’re hollow? They are. Busting them open, shards of chocolate flying across the table, livens up the post-lunch torpor.This year our intrepid neighborhood pastry wizard underwent some important experience. A challenge? A request from somebody’s grandchild? A way of telling the public he just isn’t going to be forced to spend his remaining years turning out mere eggs or bells or any other chocolate cliche’? Behold the chocolate rat! I suppose he could have done an ascending dove, or a gamboling lamb, or a hundred little marzipan chicks, if he’d wanted to stretch his skills. But I clearly have underestimated this man, whom I have seen smile exactly once over the past 20 years. Stand by for news from the Melita pastry shop, where something epochal is underway. (Notice the horizontal line dividing the egg into equal halves. That’s the seam by which the egg is closed around the “surprises,” or tiny gifts, inside the oval.)The sheet of chocolate supporting the creature deserves admiration, though I can’t conjure a reason for the little silver nubbins. I honestly thought it was a beaver, at first glance. The Easter Beaver would be an animal that deserves more consideration, in my view. But a rat is also good. For Venice, maybe even better.This is the menu outside the Ristorante Giorgione on via Garibaldi. The prices are toward the high end — not excessive, but not bargains, either. It would appear, though, that no money was allocated in the budget for the display menu. I have never seen a menu in this condition. Unless it was created for the Biennale, thereby qualifying itself as a work of art, I have no idea how something like this could ever have been (A) made and (B) displayed and (C) displayed every single day. If there were any way one could bring to the owner’s attention how exceptionally bizarre this creation is, I might try it. But the owner obviously thinks this is fine.
Nothing to do with food, but this glimpse touches the same nerve as the Giorgione menu, along with everything else that just somehow doesn’t work for me. My brain says, “They needed a window, they made a window, everybody’s happy.” My eye says “Noooooo…”. The new resident above the former Negozio di Legnami (lumber store) didn’t bother removing its lovely frescoed sign. That would have cost money. Just slice out what you don’t need and on we go. Sharp-eyed readers will realize that this isn’t in Venice; we came upon it in Bassano del Grappa, a lovely town a mere hour away that I highly recommend.
Oh look — it’s peaceful coexistence. So it’s not a myth?Me here, you there — sure, we can do this.I like some fashion with my flounder. The passera di mare (Platichthys flesus), or European flounder, used to throng the lagoon. At some point the gilthead bream got the upper hand, and you hardly see this fish anymore. I’m glad the survivors still have style.
I sometimes wonder if other cities and/or lagoons offer so much just to look at as Venice does, and I’m not talking about palaces and churches. Elsewhere you sometimes have to go in search of wonderful glimpses, but here all you have to do is keep your eyes open and your brain turned on, even if it’s only in neutral. For this to work, though, you’re going to have to put your dang phone away. Otherwise you’ll never see anything.
State your business and leave.Remember all the excitement a few weeks ago when the canals were dry? The tide is back, but you need to pay attention to the tide forecast and moor your boat accordingly. As mentioned on a previous occasion, by not leaving enough slack the owner has guaranteed that his boat will be hanging by the neck, plus he will never be able to open those knots. I hope he’s got a good knife handy because cutting is his only option.Speaking of boats, this relic just across the canal from the strangled boat is looking extremely fine at that magic moment of sunset. During the day it has no glamour at all.Sunset is a famously great moment. You can tell that by looking at everybody on the fondamenta looking westward making photos.This fluttery red ribbon came out of nowhere the other day. I can only hope that locks on bridges are no longer a thing because ribbons are lovely. And, unlike locks, they weigh nothing.I’m guessing this couple is Portuguese: “O nosso amor e’ magico 21-3-23 ap”. Our love is magic. The first day of spring evidently worked its own magic. So heartfelt good wishes to a and to p — I hope your amor continues to flourish even after you leave Venice. You’re not likely to have a romantic canal to count on to keep that glow.I can only hope that whoever she is going to be spending the day with admires her sartorial perfection. She even harmonizes with the color of the vaporetto’s interior. Impressive. I used to live a life where I too gave important attention to how my outfit came together. I wonder which came first, the bag or the shoes. Maybe the vaporetto.It’s not that rules are unknown here. It’s that they only have the grip of a month-old Post-It note that has fallen down a hundred times and just won’t stay stuck.A closer look, so you can be sure to read this request/order/admonition. The usual high marks for effort will be awarded. As for effectiveness, well…you see the result.Other things that make no sense: The shopping carts at the Prix supermarket in our neighborhood. Why do the sides stop halfway up? The designer has never gone shopping? The factory ran out of plastic?You’re in luck if you’re the kind of person who likes a challenge, like this gentleman ahead of me. He has managed to arrange his groceries according to size, shape and volume with remarkable skill. The person ahead of him, please note, faced the challenge in a completely different way — by sidestepping it altogether. His or her shopping trolley is also crammed, but the objects don’t risk falling apart.I just like the way it looks.The requisite pink or pale blue bows on the doorway announcing births always sound a tiny imaginary trumpet fanfare in my heart. In this case, I gather there are twin girls. Oh boy.A lovely, if melancholy, surprise at the entrance to the church of the Gesuati. An abandoned rose does not augur well, and I can only hope that a and p’s magic love has not come to a premature end.
Even if the last word is missing, it takes no effort at all to fill it in: “The sun is nothing compared to your eyes.” I hope whoever has those eyes wasn’t the one who removed the word.
One of the best things about walking around Venice is that you are always discovering things, the littler, the better.
Here is a smattering of recent surprises, in no particular order. The important thing is that they made me smile.
Speaking of eyes, this is not a fragment from the ancient Syrians or Greeks.This haunting tribute is placed on a wall at the hospital, near the Emergency Room. It was created by Orsoni, maker of mosaic tesserae in Venice since 1888, and donated in honor of the medical personnel at the city hospital for their heroic work during the pandemic. “Duri i banchi” is a very old expression still used as encouragement, if not warning, dating from the epoch of rowed galleys when it was shouted to the crew to brace themselves before the moment of impact in battle. (Think “Ramming speed!” from Ben-Hur). The banchi (BAN-kee) were the benches upon which the rowers sat, but saying “Hard the benches!” doesn’t mean that the benches were hard, though of course they were, but refers to the rowers themselves. So: Hang tough, stand your ground, stay strong. (Note: It’s about 35 cm x 45 cm/13 in x 18 in. I didn’t think to make a photograph of its general position — I’ll do that next time I’m by the hospital.)A tree has been growing on the vegetable boat, and its nespoli (loquats) were bravely maturing not long ago.I didn’t keep track of them, so I can’t tell you whether the birds ate them or if Massimo or Luca took them home from the boat and made compote.It’s possible that this window belongs to a vast apartment, but seen from the end of a long dark calle this small opening brings Rapunzel to mind. Or the Count of Monte Cristo, if he had liked to grow basil. I understand why the bars are there, but they do add a strangely dramatic tone to a very ordinary scene.And on the subject of windows, I noticed this the other day. It’s amazing what you can find when you’re not looking for anything. You don’t see any particular “this” in the scene? Look closer.Wait — is that a mirror I see through the open window? Wow….The city’s like some visual echo chamber.“I’ll be right back,” it says on the open door.I understand the need for ashtrays. I do not understand how this one along the canal works.This scooter has obviously been sent to the corner of the church for a big time-out. Don’t ask, it knows perfectly well what it did.This young girl has just single-handedly restored my faith in the future of the future. I saw the title on the book’s cover: “Piccole Donne.” Little Women.I had to compliment this lady for her exceptional attention to her whole ensemble. She could have just thrown on the dress and still looked good, but the necklace! The mask! The cell phone cover! For those whose maximum concern is making sure their socks match, all I can say is “Watch and learn.”No comment needed, they speak for themselves, and for her.
