A few days ago, this extraordinary assemblage appeared on via Garibaldi. The sign explained it: “No to violence to women.” I didn’t know that in the year 2000 the United Nations had declared November 25 to be the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women, arguably the most pervasive human rights violation on earth.
The sign was fine by itself, but bringing a mascareta ashore was a lovely gesture by the Remiera Casteo. It is a classic Venetian boat most commonly rowed by women (and created centuries ago, some sources say, specifically for women during Carnival).The red shoes strewn about — not to be confused with the fairy tale or ballet of the same name — became a symbol of this issue in the hands of Mexican artist Elina Chauvet in 2009, when she staged her first art installation of red shoes representing the bloodshed women face in Mexico because of femicide, domestic and sexualized violence. Her installations have inspired activists around the world to wear red shoes to replicate her protests in their own cities and countries, and to share photographs of their red shoes. Not to be confused with Dorothy’s ruby slippers.“Un Filo che Unisce” (‘A Thread That Unites’) says no to the violence against women.” This women’s association, founded in Trivento (region of Molise), devotes its energies to crocheting; the results are used to promote programs on issues of social importance. Charming, ingenious, gratifying, whatever you want to call it. For me, this creation is beyond amazing.Each flower, and other components, is a marvel of crocheting, not to mention the skill required in putting them all together.Even the hearts have been crocheted, the cats’cradle making it all even more symbolic. These women are unstoppable.
Let me say, before the comments begin to come in, that I am aware that men also suffer from domestic and other forms of violence. I know this. But I don’t want to start some ghastly competition between who is more tormented. Verbal, emotional, physical abuse damages everyone — victim, perpetrator, children who have to witness it. Fun fact: One in three women in the world suffers from some form of violence. November 25 is at least one day in which to acknowledge the violence inflicted on them: grown women, little girls, old ladies, at the hands of men, but also of other women, of their own children, and even whole families who agree to whatever atrocity they consider appropriate.
Revolution, an ad agency based in Macapá, Brazil, created the Star Models Sexual Violence ad campaign in 2014. (Photography by Diego Freire.) There were more images, but this is enough for now.
And then there’s this: Just a few weeks ago, 50 year-old Cosimo Damiano Bologna was having a coffee with a lady friend at a cafe’ in the little town of Canosa di Puglia. She had been stalked for an undisclosed amount of time by a man who suddenly appeared, and began to insult and otherwise assault her verbally. Cosimo intervened in her defense, the aggressor aggressed, and literally beat him to death. Not immediately; it took Cosimo two weeks to die.
So not only is there bride burning, dowry death, honor killing, widow cleansing, acid attack, and let’s not forget breast ironing, to name a few dreadful things at random, now we have women getting hurt by men, and men getting hurt for defending women from men.
I am not saying every woman is perfect. I’m just saying that if you wouldn’t do it to a dog, don’t do it to a woman. And if you would do it to a dog, still don’t do it to a woman. Let’s make this the International Century for the Elimination of Violence against Women. It’s really going to be better for everybody.
“It’s Time You Spoke” was an ad campaign for the City of Hope women’s shelter, New York City. Violence against women fuels global crises such as drug and alcohol abuse, suicide, infant mortality, and poverty.When I took this photograph I thought they looked happy. Now I’m beginning to realize you can’t know anything about people by just looking at them, no matter how much gelato they may be eating.Girls don’t have to be beautiful to be wonderful.
Being beautiful is wonderful too, or at least it seems so to most of us. But as I said, what can I really know about this unearthly being except that somebody spent an ungodly amount of time braiding her hair, and that she was fine with it?
Venetian women who are racing take no prisoners.“Signora del Vento,” a three-masted brigantine built in 1962, is the second largest Italian tall ship after “Amerigo Vespucci.” Her figurehead, created by artists Birgit and Claus Hartmann, appears to be permanently waiting to launch the dove of peace. I’d say any time from now on would be ideal. Especially for women.
The official Italian roll call response, here written on the tomb of one of the multi-thousands of dead Italian soldiers whose name will never be known. This image is from the military cemetery at Kobarid, Slovenia, final resting place of 7,014 known and unknown Italian soldiers and the site of no fewer than 12 lost battles against the Austro-Hungarian empire.
In the United States we observe Veterans Day on November 11, the date of Germany’s formal surrender at the end of World War 1. To be precise, the ceasefire took effect at 11:11 on November 11. We called it Armistice Day when I was a sprout, but now the date recognizes veterans of all wars.
The war between Italy and Austria-Hungary, however, came to an end on November 3, when the ceasefire was signed at the Villa Giusti outside Padova, to take effect on November 4. That date has long been observed here as a national day of remembrance, though by the end of it all, the warring parties had signed no fewer than 16 peace treaties.
It’s bad enough to know who were the casualties, but the nameless ones are what haunt me. In 1921, Italy consecrated its national Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, in Rome, and this year marked its hundredth-year anniversary. There are military shrines (sacrario) all over Italy and it is appalling how many of their soldiers are unknown. The monument in Gorizia notes 57,741 Italian casualties, of which 36,000 are unknown. At the shrine at Redipuglia are 100,000 fallen, and 60,000 unknown. At Asiago are 54,286 dead of which 33,000 are unknown. Obliterated.
Which brings me to the sacrario crowning Monte Grappa. The Grappa massif was the site of some of the war’s most violent battles, and where the Austrian advance into Italy was finally stopped.
On even moderately clear days, the low outline of Grappa, here just behind the Murano lighthouse, is visible from Venice. A mere 52 miles/84 km separate mountain from lagoon.The cemetery on Monte Grappa contains not only the remains of thousands of Italian soldiers (foreground), but also many unknown Austrian soldiers in the circular area further back.Monument to the Fallen of Monte Grappa Reigning His Majesty Vittorio Emanuele III Leader Benito Mussolini May 24 1934 September 22 1935 XIII year of E.F. (Epoca Fascista). The plaque on the lower right says: “In this shrine rest the remains of 12,615 fallen Italians of which 10,332 are unknown and 10,295 fallen Austro-Hungarians of which 10,000 are unknown.”Austrians to the right, Italians to the left.Meaning no disrespect to the Italian casualties, but I was surprised to find so many of the enemy interred here.Atop the summit, walking toward the Italian tombs.Looking toward Venice. Lino says that on a clear day you can see the sea. Of course the Austrian army wanted to see it too, even closer than this.Looking northward.The smaller loculi contain identified soldiers, the larger ones contain some of the unknown. In this case, it says “Cento Militi Ignoti”” One hundred unknown soldiers. There are many of these.
The full inscription above reads: Gloria a Voi Soldati del Grappa. “Glory to you soldiers of Grappa.”Most of the streets and campos in the area of Sant’ Elena bear names recalling the First World War.
Two weeks ago — the evening of October 29 — a remarkable event passed through Venice in the form of the “Train of Memory,” a steam train that retraced the route of the train that traveled from Aquileia to Rome bearing the coffin of the nameless soldier chosen to represent all of them to his final resting place at the Altar of the Fatherland. As before, the train left Cervignano Aquileia on October 29, stopped at Udine and Treviso, and arrived at Santa Lucia station in Venice at 9:30 PM. A few hours later it departed for Bologna, Florence, Arezzo, and finally Rome.
We waited at the station, determined to see it despite a delay of 90 minutes. A ceremony had been organized, though it was less majestic than those I discovered had been held in other stations. Music, speeches, uniforms. More music. It was moving in spite of all that; for me, the emotion was compounded by the fact that Lino’s father had been a train driver in the steam era, and that Santa Lucia station was once full of puffing, gasping trains just like this one.
A platoon of cadets from the Morosini naval school were arrayed, along with detachments of veterans of various branches and the band of the Alpini Julia Brigade. The train is coming in on Track 1, as it did in October of 1921.
The original train carried the coffin on an open carriage like this one.It was said that this locomotive was the same that had pulled the original train. I can’t confirm that, but I can certainly confirm real steam.
The original train was something infinitely grander and more solemn, of course. This brief film clip shows scenes from the train’s passing towns and stations on its way to Rome, and I trust that even without your understanding the narration, the images will express something of the magnitude of the experience. It seems as though everyone who saw the coffin gave it something from the depths of their heart and spirit, as each person glimpsed, in a way, their own lost soldier.
So where is the monument to the Unknown Soldier in Venice? There is only one and it’s at Sant’Elena, modestly placed amid a sort of garden, a genteel afterthought. For years this piece of stone just sat on the ground till finally a group of former soldiers managed to get it up onto a sort of pedestal. Some cities, such as Florence, organized ceremonies with the laying of a huge laurel wreath.
Here, not so much. The only wreath was placed by Daniele Girardini, president of a military history association named cimeetrincee (peaks and trenches). Not even a nod from the city government, much less a ceremony. Maybe ceremonies are empty calories, but no ceremonies are worse.
This plot is right in front of the vaporetto stop at Sant’ Elena. It’s officially named the Garden of Remembrance, but plenty of people go by every day who have yet to realize that there is a stone here, much less a memorial, so not too heavy on the “remembrance.”
“I was always embarrassed by the words sacred, glorious, and sacrifice, ” wrote Ernest Hemingway. “I had seen nothing sacred, and the things that were glorious had no glory and the sacrifices were like the stockyards at Chicago if nothing was done with the meat except to bury it…Abstract words such as glory, honor, courage…were obscene beside the concrete names of villages… the names of rivers, the numbers of regiments and the dates.”
Tell me Lino went to school with somebody who built the basilica of the Salute, and I’d believe it. Jesting aside, the photos today have no special links to the topic at hand. Just wanted to send you a small supply of images of Venice to tide you over till you can come back.
It’s probably just me, but after years of seeing Lino run into people he knows for one reason or event or phase of life over the past eight decades, it strains belief to think that there could be people in Venice who don’t know him. In my opinion, we should probably just rename the most beautiful city in the world LinoLand.
Late one morning we were riding the bus down the Lido toward Malamocco. Lino nabbed a seat near the back — he got the aisle, and a youngish man reading a book was sitting by the window. The bus was crowded, there was the muted tension of people clumped together in the summer heat. The bus pulled up at a stop, the man closed the book and moved to get off. Climbing over Lino on his way out, he said “Ciao, Lino.”
Instant of silence; everyone was wearing masks, so recognition stalled. Then he lowered his mask and it was smiles all round. Not only had Lino collaborated for years with the man’s father on the Committee of the Festa de la Sensa, but yep — Lino taught him (man, not father of) to row when he was a lad.
Parking is a problem in the canals as much as on land. At the end of via Garibaldi on a busy morning, everybody just decides to make it work. The barge demonstrates what I’d call sufficiently parallel parking.
Change of scene: A few weeks ago we were struggling home on a Sunday evening from the regata at Murano. After the races people literally disappeared because a deluge had struck the city that had evidently swept every other humans either home or out to sea. Lino and I trudged through drenching gusts of rain (umbrella? Of course not!), and climbed aboard the vaporetto heading toward San Pietro di Castello. Cold. Soaking wet. Must mention that this is far from the first time Murano has celebrated its big day with Noye’s Fludde — two years ago it was an apocalyptic hailstorm.
Miserable, waterlogged, we were just stepping ashore on the dock at San Pietro di Castello when the vaporetto pilot pulled down his landward window, leaned halfway out, and called out “Ciao Lino!”
So, yet again, I saw that neither snow, nor rain, nor dead of night, etc., stop people from saying hi to Lino. In this case, the man was not someone Lino had taught to row — astonishing, I know — but instead is a former naval seaman at the Military Naval School F. Morosini where Lino teaches rowing, as all the world knows by now. So of course he would have seen Lino thousands of times. Lino doesn’t remember his name, but names are optional in these encounters.
There are many oases of peace and quiet out in the lagoon. So far no fish have surfaced to say hi to Lino. They’d be more likely to surface and say “You caught my grandfather’s great-uncle’s cousin’s father-in-law but you’ll never catch me.”
Speaking of Morosini, we were there one afternoon a few weeks ago, working on some of the boats. The sun was shining, the cadets had gone home for summer vacation, officers were only intermittent. Around the corner came one of the commandants with an older couple and grandon in tow, obviously a prospective student being shown around.
They all stopped for the usual brief introduction (“And yes, we also offer Venetian rowing to the students,” etc. etc.). The grandfather looked at Lino and said, “Wait. I know you. But how?” The briefest checklist of where/who/when revealed that they grew up in the same neighborhood mere streets apart. Lino was a few years older than this person, but not by much. So we all took a break to listen to them riffle through who they knew, who their relatives were, EXACTLY where their houses were located, and so forth. This was one of those rare cases where teaching somebody to row wasn’t the link. It was something better: Family! Childhood! Memories! Neighborhood!
The House of the Rising Clams.Top row are various exemplars of the capatonda or “round clam” (Cerastoderma glaucum), also known as “cuore di laguna,” or “lagoon heart.” Lino says that the black item in the lineup is a very old capatonda. On the other hand, because I am not an expert, I have run aground on this because these look convincingly like Rudicardiumtuberculatum. Both of these species belong to the cockle family, so I’m going to leave the subject there. Further information welcome because I have exploded my brain researching this to little avail. Bottom row: On the left is a clam “that you find all over the beach, sometimes they’re very big,” says Lino. That’s all I know. On the right, a fasolaro (Callista chione)From the bottom, moving clockwise: I haven’t yet been able to identify this pale smooth creature, so let’s move on to two capetonde. Lino states that the blackish object in the center is the shell used by a hermit crab (Pagurus bernhardus). I’m in no position to argue about it, but I’d like to see one of these in the wild to understand it better. Meanwhile, it has been given pride of place amongst the mollusks. The last two in the upper right corner are a young capatonda and the twin of the unidentified clam in the first photo. It’s been a long two days on this. I may end up just ringing the person’s doorbell.
Let’s go back in time — it doesn’t matter how far, because these chance meetings have been going on forever. In fact, LinoLand is everywhere. Take Mogadishu, Somalia, just to pick a place at random. Lino was living there for four months in the mid-Sixties, with a crew from the Aeronavali which was repairing and maintaining airplanes and teaching (I think you might say that was what was happening) local mechanics how to take over when the group went back to Venice.
Lino and his colleagues were billeted at a modest hotel run by a couple from Bologna, the kind of place you’d expect to find flight crews from Alitalia on layover. And yes, one day a young man in Alitalia uniform stopped in the lobby. “Ciao Lino!” Who was he? They’d been in the Boy Scouts together. They didn’t say “So it’s here that we meet again, bwahahaha.” They said some variation on “What the heck are you doing here?” And together they could have replied, “I’m working. What are YOU doing?”
If the sun’s up, it’s time for laundry. No sun, also laundry.Look closer. Here is a detail of what is hanging out the window, evidently supported only by whatever cables keep it alive. Air conditioner is on its own here because for probably many reasons a support has not been constructed. Guess they’ll haul it in when winter comes, like some sort of midwater longline set out for tuna.Speaking of hanging things up to dry, out in the lagoon the fishermen hang out their nets. It’s kind of like laundry, but smells different.
And while we’re ranging far afield, let’s go to Muggia, a village on the east coast of the Adriatic just below Trieste. Lino knows it well, so we decided to take a daytrip one freezing Epiphany a few years ago. The voyage took much of the morning. We get the bus in Trieste. We get off the bus in Muggia. We walk to the small central piazza (Piazza Galileo Galilei, if you’re playing along at home) where the very economically sized duomo sits sideways. Pretty.
“Ciao Lino!” It came from behind this time. Turning around, we see one of our favorite ex-cadets from the Morosini coming toward us. Gad! We’re 176 km (109 miles) from Venice and yet even here there’s SOMEBODY WHO KNOWS LINO. Since we last saw him he’s become a naval officer, has commanded a submarine, and gotten married to a girl from Muggia, which now explains everything. It’s not like people follow Lino around by satellite tracking. It’s just that they seem to be everywhere.
You cannot convince me that they’re not talking to each other. I mean all three of them.
And in conclusion…What was probably the first of these numberless experiences was the day in Lino’s early adulthood during the five-year period when he worked at Ciampino Airport in Rome, repairing and maintaining planes.
He was riding on a bus somewhere in the central area of the city. The bus was crammed full of people, naturally. All of a sudden from the back of the bus comes the ebullient voice of a woman in the broadest possible Venetian accent: “OH VARRRRRREMENGO, VARDA CHI CHE GHE XE!” (“Good Lord have mercy” — a hopelessly bad translation but I’m trying to convey the intensity of the amazement because va a remengo is the absolute maximum Venetian exclamation.) “LOOK WHO IT IS!” These were the days before “Ciao Lino” took over.
Everybody turns to look at Lino, who has instantly gone tomato-paste red with embarrassment. She didn’t stop. “XE EL FRADELO DE LA VANDA!” (“It’s Wanda’s brother!”)
“TI SA CHI GHE SO MI?” she cheerfully demands. (“You know who I am?”)
Tiny embarrassed voice responds: “La Gegia.” The lady’s name was Teresa, but the nickname in Venetian is Gegia (JE-ja.)
That’s where the story ends; I guess he got off at the next stop, whether it was his or not. He doesn’t remember further details, but that voice has been incised in his brain. Little did he know normal all this was going to become for him. Now he just turns to me and either tells me who it is, or asks me. Me? You think I know? As they say here, I just got here tomorrow.
Somebody has just had a baby boy. Part of a new batch of people who’ll be saying “Ciao, Lino”?
Now that the G20 has come and gone, the surface of life that was so agitated thereby has returned to its normal level of agitation. There are plenty of things to keep track of, to one degree or another. In some cases, to many degrees.
Here are a few of them:
REDENTORE: The annual feast of the Most Holy Redeemer is tonight and Sunday — the big waterborne festivities on Saturday, the races and big religious celebration on Sunday. Last year there were no fireworks, which left a huge hole in the festivities. This year there will be fireworks, but in a serious effort to prevent the hazardous clumping-together of crowds the city has imposed a limit of 18,000 people, total, and those persons have to have made a reservation. To reach the place or area they’ve booked, they have to show their printed ticket as well as their “Green Pass,” or other certificate of vaccination, OR a document that confirms that their swab was negative within the 48 preceding hours.
My new Green Pass.The obverse side shows my name, birth date, and a few other details not interesting to anyone but them and me. This document allows me to travel to other European countries without having to quarantine.Barriers are being set up around the reservation-only zones. Here, this fence ought to keep the traffic lanes separated. If Carnival is any example, it won’t.These barriers are intended to prevent people falling in the water, I suppose; maybe they should prevent people in boats trying to board somebody or put them ashore?
The rules are the ones that we all know so well by now: Masks and distancing. Tickets have been organized in sub-sectors. Redentore used to be a real let-it-all-fly sort of festa; a party now where everyone will have to behave like Captain Von Trapp’s children is going to be really different.
Boats obviously won’t be permitted to tie up to each other: social distancing afloat. No trying to pass from boat to boat. No dancing parties aboard (take that, you big floating discotheques). The watery areas are delimited according to size and the use of boat, and you have to show a printed “ticket” from your booking (on water as on land) to be permitted to enter the area. Once your boat has entered its appointed area, it is forbidden to exit, nor will it be permitted to put people ashore. Boat captains have to keep a complete list of passengers for 14 days. Also, wear your mask.
There are regulations for people booking space along the fondamentas to watch the fireworks, or to scarf their dinner, but I’m not going to go into all that. If you’ve booked a space, you already have the rules. If you haven’t booked, you’d better hop to. Preference is being given to Venetians, it says here.
Lino and I will not be there; it’s been years since we decided we couldn’t stand the mayhem of the motorboats in the dark, with their drunk drivers. We might walk up to the fondamenta dei Sette Martiri (where I didn’t see any signs of assigned places) if it’s not too crazy.
The little yellow slice, Area 5 Dogana, is the space allotted to traditional boats, either rowed or with a motor of maximum 9.9 hp. The other zones are organized for boats according to size and use (pleasure, work, etc.). No need to get into all the details. Note the white emergency exits. When Lino was a boy, the Giudecca Canal was so thickly covered with boats — all propelled by oars, of course — you could walk across them from one bank to another. And they were all massed in the Giudecca Canal to the west of the votive bridge, up toward the Molino Stucky. The Bacino of San Marco was just background decoration.
THE BIG SHIPS: Ship-haters rejoice: As of August 1, the biggest ships will no longer be permitted to pass through the city. These ships are defined as having at least one of the following characteristics: Gross tonnage above 25,000 tons; hull at the waterline longer than 180 meters; height of ship more than 35 meters, excluding ships that are motor- and sail-driven; use of fuel in maneuvering that has a percentage of sulfur equal or superior to 0.1 per cent. Like any other cargo vessel, the big cruise ships will be routed from Malamocco to Porto Marghera, one of many solutions that have been discussed since dinosaurs roamed the earth. But this is just a stopgap. The real solution is the offshore port, and that’s not happening tomorrow.
Seeing that neither Porto Marghera nor anywhere else will be ready this year, the MSC Orchestra or Magnifica and Costa Deliziosa (the only big ships on the dance card this summer) will be departing, respectively, from Monfalcone and Trieste, up along the northern Adriatic coast. Passengers arriving in Venice will be swabbed or otherwise health-checked at the Venice Maritime area, then loaded on buses and driven a few hours to their ships. So much for the thrill of cruising from Venice.
The offshore port project is going to take some time. Phase One, send in your proposals by December 31, 2021. Make sure your design can accommodate modern container ships as well as the biggest cruise ships, and make sure the port will be safe in stormy seas because there won’t be any lagoon to protect you anymore. Phase Two, five experts evaluate the proposals. Phase Three, choose the winner. That decision will be made by June 30, 2023, if all goes as planned. That’s a pretty big “if,” I feel compelled to add.
Seeing that creating the offshore port will take at least five to six years, Porto Marghera will have to be modified fairly quickly. Building the new passenger terminal there, deepening the channels and revising the current industrial docks will cost 157 million euros — a hefty sum for a temporary set-up. Then again, “temporary” has a flexible meaning here. The Accademia Bridge was built in 37 days in 1933 as a temporary structure while proposals for the real bridge were to be evaluated, and it’s still there.
I have the impression that the sudden decision on dealing with the big ships is linked somehow to the fact that UNESCO recently decided to designate the water entrance to Venice — Bacino of San Marco, Canale of San Marco and the Giudecca Canal a national monument. This is surprising in that UNESCO, when it listed Venice as a World Heritage Site in 1987, specifically included the lagoon. You wouldn’t know that by the savaging of the environment that has gone on since then, but anyway, I’d have considered the Bacino, etc. as part of the lagoon. Now it’s a national monument. Okay then.
Spare a thought, though, for the humans — 1,260 direct workers and 4,000 indirect workers — involved in what will be a radical restructuring of the whole shipping enterprise here. Many are fearing for their jobs.
Almost no workers believed that this decree would come so fast, and right in the middle of the season. The maritime agencies are also worried. Every shipping company is required by law to engage a maritime agency, but, says Michele Gallo, head of two agencies, “You can’t even think of having the same ships as before coming to the docks at Porto Marghera, using the same places as the commercial ships. This is a devastating decree.” Organizing the entry, passage and departure of so many ships through the inlet at Malamocco and along the Petroleum Canal (Canale dei Petroli) is going to be a job worthy of an air traffic controller.
By the way, all this increased traffic will make it even more important to keep the aforementioned channel dredged. However, the deeper the channel, the faster the tide enters and exits, and already this action removes millions of cubic meters of sediment from the lagoon every year. Everyone knows that the Canale dei Petroli has thus caused incalculable damage to the lagoon and its extraordinary ecosystems. Ironic that UNESCO decided to designate part of the lagoon as a national monument with the notion of protecting it, but they seem not to have taken into account the effect so much extra traffic will have in a channel that essentially behaves as if it were a water vacuum sucking the soil from the lagoon.
This was the lagoon’s circulatory system in 1901. Lots of arteries and veins and capillaries kept the lagoon biome thriving.In 1932. Notice the large natural channel at the bottom of the picture — the inlet at Malamocco. Here it is the shape of an oxbow. Works fine for the lagoon, but wasn’t at all suitable for commercial traffic.The oxbow was furloughed when the Canale dei Petroli was dug in 1964-68. The channel shoots straight from the inlet on the right to the shoreline, and was dug along the shoreline in order to allow the tankers and other big merchant ships to reach Porto Marghera in the upper left-hand corner. After only two years, the effect was evident. Today, in view of the cruise ships arriving, dredging the channel has already begun, and will continue for 12 months. A deeper channel means the tide will be faster than before. All the little canals that used to be there helped to slow the tide down, but as you see, the tide won.On the left you can see the tide patterns before the Austrian domination (1814), while on the right the tide patterns in 2009. So by all means make all the big ships traverse the lagoon from Malamocco for however many years it will take for the offshore port to be built. I’d just avoid presenting myself as a defender of the lagoon at the same time.
FREE MARCO ZENNARO:
Marco Zennaro (veneziatoday.it)
The 46-year-old Venetian businessman, well-known and loved by many, has been in prison in Sudan for three months. He is the owner of a company that produces electric transformers that has been doing business in Sudan for years. He has been accused by a Sudanese company of fraud, but the situation is an utter tangle of claims and characters. However, the photograph of the cell in which he was kept for two months with 30 other men, at temperatures of 114 degrees F., was all too comprehensible. Yes, the Italian government has attempted to intervene; yes, money has been paid, but turns out someone wants still more.
Now he is on house arrest in a Sudanese hotel, awaiting the next hearing (August 9) in the string of court appearances that may finally resolve the problem. He has already been absolved of two accusations, but it’s hard to know who wants what at this point. Of course money is at the core of this. Marco is well-known in the Venetian world of sport — Venetian rowing, for one thing, as well as rugby. As it happens, Lino has known him since he (Marco) was a boy. Also, Lino taught his mother how to row.
This one is written in English, no less.
“We Support Marco.” Petitions and initiatives continue. On June 13, some 15 Venetian rowers conducted a 24-hour event in which they took turns rowing from the Rialto to the Salute and back a la valesana (one person with two oars). They continued from noon June 13 to noon June 14 to raise awareness of this situation and urge its resolution. But here we still are.“Let’s get Marco back.” This banner has been posted around much of Italy by now, by a far-right “association of social promotion” called CasaPound. (lagazzettatorinese.it)
MOSE:
Are we heading back to this again? Oh boy.
Mose worked last winter (except for one time), so you might think all is well? You would think wrong. I’m starting to dread the winter again.
The plan was to complete all the work by June 30, and declare the project finished on December 31, 2021. But that timetable is now in tatters for various reasons, primarily money problems (as always). The refusal of some suppliers to continue without payment also slowed things down, and the work was officially suspended yesterday, July 16, even though it actually had been stopped for three months already.
Without regular tests, without personnel from the companies involved, without some degree of ongoing maintenance, it’s not certain the gates will even rise when needed. Broken elements haven’t been replaced, parts are deteriorating because there is still no air conditioning in the underground gallery. There is severe corrosion that has been reported for years, to the frames of the underwater tensioners as well as the hinges of the gates. Encrustation of barnacles and other crud will certainly make the gates heavier. The gates at San Nicolo’ have been underwater for eight years now.
Bids have been solicited for a maintenance program budgeted at 64 million euros, even though some estimates maintain that at least 100 million euros will be needed for this every year. (Personal note: Lino has never batted an eye at the titanic construction costs. His refrain has always been simply “And the cost of the maintenance?”)
A Venetian deputy in Parliament, Orietta Vanin, has written to Enrico Giovannini, the Minister of Public Works, saying “A plan is missing for the launch of the work and the completion of the machinery. When is Mose going to be tested? What is the risk to the city in view of autumn? At what point are the interventions for the security of the Piazza San Marco? We’ve asked several times but have never had a response.”
TOURISM:
Not exactly a horde at 9:00 AM on a Saturday morning. I did see a group of about 15 people being guided around the Rialto Market.
The infamous hordes are not yet swarming the streets; tourists there are, many of them still day-trippers, but not insupportable numbers, by any means. We could probably use a good horde or two right now. Happily for everyone, American travelers are finally permitted to fly to Venice (I presume also to the rest of Italy). Delta Airlines has non-stop flights from Atlanta and New York, and the other day 200 passengers from the USA disembarked to great, if silent, applause. That’s just a drop, however, as the Venice airport is currently handling 15,000 “passages” a day, a mere third of their daily pre-pandemic total.
Still, no coherent plans for managing the eventual masses have yet been proposed. The secretary of the artisans’ association, Gianni De Cecchi, says “The pandemic has passed in vain.” So stand by for the usual complaints, protests, and laments to come forth again. Probably toward the end of next summer, if forecasts can be trusted. Stay tuned.
I like these tourists. Too bad there aren’t enough of them to keep Venice afloat.Send more of these, too.I hang the sheets out to dry, he raises his sail. The life, she goes on.
By the way, all this increased traffic will make it even more important to keep the aforementioned channel dredged. However, the deeper the channel, the faster the tide enters and exits, and already this action removes millions of cubic meters of sediment from the lagoon every year. Everyone knows that the Canale dei Petroli has thus caused incalculable damage to the lagoon and its extraordinary ecosystems. Ironic that UNESCO decided to designate part of the lagoon as a national monument with the notion of protecting it, but they seem not to have taken into account the effect so much extra traffic will have in a channel that essentially behaves as if it were a water vacuum sucking the soil from the lagoon.
FREE MARCO ZENNARO: