Venetian Problems

tourist strikes back

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The nose on this very old-fashioned doorbell has encountered thousands of hands in its life, as we see.  But they usually came in friendship.

This just hot off the press.

Yesterday (Tuesday) afternoon the Piazza San Marco was bubbling with tourists.  The sun was out, the air was warm, the most beautiful city in the world (so-called) was just lounging around being beautiful, etc.  There were thousands (probably) of tourists, and an inexact number of thieves and pickpockets in the mix. So far, so normal.

One of the tourists was a man identified only as being South American.  One of the pickpockets was originally from Tunisia, and around 4:00 PM they were destined to meet.  The Tunisian was already known for his propensity to steal from shops, but yesterday he tried his hand at stealing from people.  The aforementioned hand had already extracted the tourist’s wallet, as I understand it, but the victim felt it, ran after and caught him, and launched his fist at the thief’s nose.  Broke it, in fact.

Wallet recovered, pickpocket carried away in an ambulance to await surgery.

The daily newspapers were in full cry.  (Left to right):  “San Marco tourist breaks thief’s nose.”  “Pickpockets a tourist followed and beaten at San Marco.”  “Robbed he retaliates and sends the thief to the hospital.”

Lessons learned?  Don’t try to steal wallets if you’re only used to ransacking rooms.  Rooms don’t hit back.

Somebody stepped on this tomato long before I walked past. I took the photo only because I liked how it looked.  Little did I suspect that it would ever be useful.

 

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Nature

windowboxes gone wild

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The rebellious hedge was one thing, but here the plants are taking over.  I’ve been watching this installation grow over the past few years, and while I applaud the owner’s commitment to the natural look (English- v. French-garden style), I think having what may turn out to be an actual tree growing in your windowbox is pretty audacious.
I’m just glad to see that they all can manage to get along together.

The creeping shadow may be the only brake (along with water) that has any effect on this extraordinary assortment.

Windowboxes, I feel I ought to note, are a late bloomer in Venetian life.  They certainly weren’t common in Lino’s childhood.  “People didn’t even have food,” he states.  “Who had flowers?”  Little vegetable allotments were not unheard-of, but flowers?  Only in their natural state, out in the fields and in the wild, on the barene and lagoon shoreline.

But now that windowboxes are flourishing — or running hogwild, as above — let me share a bit of their color and cheer as we stagger toward the end of a hideously hot summer.

The flowers are best of all. Second-best is the ingenuity of putting them in a bucket, seeing that there is no other place for them. But special mention goes to what the bucket is hanging from: The handle and its support of the long-ago doorbell.  The small hole at the top of the metal strip was where the metal wire was attached (the wire that stretched upward to the relevant dwelling, where the other end was attached to the bell itself.  Yes, you just pulled it and it rang like crazy up in your friend’s apartment.)
As you see.

I love so many things about this arrangement, but it wouldn’t be so wonderful without the sticker still stuck to the pot.
Somewhere on Sant’ Erasmo, somebody wanted to do this. I’m guessing it’s a pet’s grave, but I’ll never know.  The place needed flowers, and flowers there are.
Burano, obviously. I admire anyone who can think of putting flowers out to coexist with walls whose color is measured in decibels.
Leaves that looks like petals, or vice versa. Nice.
Enjoy your flowerbox before it dries up.
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