Venice: I am not making this up

The fog and I

February 25, 2021 13 Comments

Most times you don’t see the fog that is enclosing you — you discern it according to how thickly it covers relatively nearby objects. As in this case I examined the end of our next-door street, which always ends in a canal but on this morning ended also in fog.

We get fog intermittently at various moments throughout the year, and my only objection to it isn’t what it does to my hair (I’ve abandoned my dreams there) but what it does to the vaporettos.

They still run, but the smaller motoscafos that circle Venice undergo an abrupt change of plan, which I totally do not understand. The boats have radar; the boats are almost always in sight of land, or channel markers, or whatever. It may be the crushing influence of the insurers that induces the ACTV to send the motoscafos up the Grand Canal instead of around the city, and iin that case making only a few strategic stops to which you must adapt (Accademia, Rialto, train station, Piazzale Roma).

Or sometimes they simply suspend operations on most of the round-the-city lines, with no notice whatever, meaning you have to reconfigure everything in order to make use of the one truly and eternally reliable transport, the trusty old #1 local.

Sometimes it comes in the night, so when you wake up it’s already there. Other times it drifts up to greet you, in an ominous kind of way.

At that point, you have to plot a new overland route to your destination, and that’s where the real inconvenience comes in. As it happens, not long ago I was accompanying an elderly neighbor to the hospital for an appointment. The boat we usually take requires a mere four stops, and the fourth is right in front of the hospital. But with the fog, the music changes, as they say here when describing an unexpected and disagreeable shift in plans. So we had to A) walk further than our usual stop in order to reach a stop that still was functioning; B) disembark at San Marco; and C) walk inland.

My friend is a trouper, though. By the time a Venetian reaches 82 years old she/he may well have stronger legs than Simone Biles. I had proposed riding to the Rialto stop and walking inland from there. She counter-proposed that we get off at San Zaccaria and walk cross-lots from there. I secretly gave her ten extra points and a gold star. And a bluebird.

Happily for us, the fog lifted while we were indoors, so we took the usual four-stop vehicle and were home in a jiffy (or 15 minutes in ACTV years).

Unhappily for us, this scenario was repeated this week — two days in succession — and while I may enjoy bragging about it at the end of those days , I do not appreciate being compelled to show how strong and hardy I am. Frankly, I’ll never beat the little old lady to win the Tough as Old Boots trophy.

And a gracious good morning to you, whoever you are.

Rowing clubs hold races all year, and winter is an excellent period for the rowers (if not the spectators) because there is almost no traffic. Here two men are rowing their gondolino toward the nearby starting line out in the lagoon.

I have seen gondolas in the fog even carrying passengers, who must have been in complete now-or-never mode. As for the gondolier, at first I wondered how he could manage to follow his route with almost no visibility, then realized that he does the same circuit ad infinitum — for all I know, he just gives the boat its head and lets it go on its own.

There doesn’t seem to be any rule forbidding racing against boats you can barely see. But in the race on December 4 a few years ago in honor of St. Barbara, caorlinas carrying five dauntless men and one student from the Morosini Naval School fought their way across the Bacino of San Marco. In cases like these, the judges in the following motorboat have to deal not only with navigating “blind,” but can barely make out the color of each boat. The difference between red and orange is hard to differentiate even in broad daylight — here you might be forced to go by the word of the rowers. A situation you obviously would like to avoid.

“Amerigo Vespucci,” the Italian navy’s sail training”tall ship,” arrives on special occasions, and always on those when the President of Italy is here. It has no need of fog to look amazing, but the fog doesn’t hurt, either.

My heart goes out to her, because I would swear she had no idea when she hung out her down comforter that she was going to awake to discover that it’s become soggier than it was when it came out of the last spin cycle. If she’s going to have to rely on the sun to get it dry, it will finally be ready sometime in August.

Our ordinary canal is bordered by a rusty railing that the fog transforms into something magical. I was astonished to see how many of these there were — or are. The next day it was as if they had disappeared.

Venetian-ness

How we are (part 2)

February 16, 2021 15 Comments

I’ve been trying for a month to find some way to write a deep and detailed update on life here these days, but I give up. What follows is the best I can do.

After a year of the virus, and its varying grip on Italy’s 20 regions and 80-some provinces, all I can say is that we are not yet out of the proverbial woods, even though vaccinations have begun. There is an “English variant” now on the scene that has upset everybody’s predictions on progress. Even without this interloper, the danger of assembramenti (gatherings of people) remains paramount, though large numbers of people I see walking around seem not to be concerned. Exhibit A: Mask worn beneath the nose. Exhibit B: Mask around neck. Any time that the restrictions on gatherings are moderately lifted, the campos and fondamente clog up again with bright sparks, glasses in hand, masks lowered or even removed. And so the restrictions clamp down again. It’s like Groundhog Day.

On Saturday, Feb. 13, the Veneto returned to the “Yellow” status and Sunday’s headlines were absolutely no surprise: “Carneval movida, maxi-risk of contagion.” (“Movida” is the term for mass group socializing, usually on Saturday night.) “Saturday Yellow, immediately the movida, tens of calls to the vigili,” or local policemen. Whoever answered the phone repeatededly replied that “We don’t have enough officers on duty to send to make everybody wear their masks and stand one meter apart, even with the threat of a fine.” One wonders why there weren’t enough on duty for the easiest situation to predict since Christmas Morning, but one wonders in vain.

On Feb. 11, this was the utterly predictable report: “Arrival of the Veneti in Venice: Mass gatherings and masks lowered.” (Note: “Arrival” isn’t the right word but I can’t find a better one. To give some idea of the impact implied, calata is the word used for dropping anchor.) Therefore, the rule is that from 15:00 (3:00 PM), you are forbidden to drink standing around. If you’re going to drink, you have to be sitting at a table. That’s until 18:00 (6:00 PM), that is, because that’s when the bars close. Too many people milling around with glasses in their hands and masks completely pulled down. Not sure if table rule will be only on weekends, or every day.

The year has been entirely color-coded, as Italy has struggled to maintain control of the contagion (and its social, economic, and medical consequences) by applying restrictions according to their level of contagion: Yellow is the least dangerous, Orange is the middle ground, Red is obviously the most dangerous (and at least one doomed region was labeled Dark Red for a while — I think that may have meant something like bomb-shelter-type quarantine).

Handy reference for what we can do, and how, and where.

But the restrictions kept changing, reacting to the bettering or worsening of the epidemic’s numbers. We have spun through variations of life involving the hours that shops/bars/restaurants could be open (restaurants closing at 6:00 PM was obviously problematic, though takeout was the stopgap solution), to the number of persons permitted to enter a shop (from one to as many as six), to whether you would even be allowed to enter at all. Oh — and sitting at tables inside was obviously risky, and sitting at tables outside not much less risky, so as recently as last week you bought your coffee at the cafe’ doorway and stood there drinking it al fresco. Except you weren’t supposed to be standing — assembramenti! — so you had to keep moving to avoid the potentially contagious assembramenti (gatherings of people), so you wandered away with your little paper cup, sipping the rapidly cooling teaspoons of espresso, looking for a trash bin. I gave up coffee abroad because the always-dependable cafe bathrooms were no longer available.

Permission to travel between towns, provinces, and Regions continued to mutate. Schools open, schools closed. Public transport restricts the number of passengers permitted during “rush” hour (“Six people can board,” I heard the marinaio call out as we left the vaporetto), but at other times there have been vaporettos that were completely empty. Except for us, I mean. Not made up.

Sunday, late morning, between the Giardini and Sant’ Elena. Feast your eyes, but just keep in mind (if you want to) that all these seats represent minus-signs on the ACTV budget. Just another link in the losing-money chain.

Some museums are beginning to reopen, though obviously with fewer visitors because cross-border travel is still generally forbidden. Venetians (or Italians) who’d like to see some of their artistic patrimony without scrimmaging through masses of tourists, this is your big chance. Most of the museums are open only Monday through Friday; the Guggenheim and Palazzo Grassi only on Thursday and Friday.

Today is Mardi Gras, but this year’s Carnival has been almost entirely online — that is, whatever remnants of the Old Celebrations they managed to retain. We did see some tourists (mainly from the Veneto) over the past few days, on and off, some of them in costume. But I can confirm that seeing a few random dressed-up people does not a Carnival make, especially when they are walking along streets in the late afternoon, where the few businesses that were open are beginning to close. Curfew for bars and restaurants is 1800 (6:00 PM) and slightly later for other enterprises. Supermarkets are open till as late as 8:30 PM.

The last weekend of Carnival did have its brighter moments, especially Sunday when the sun and the tourists combined to bring a whiff of normalcy to the city.

Sunday morning we rowed to the Rialto, an idea that clearly had occurred to many others, including a heartening number of gondoliers. It’s been months since a gondola with passengers has been seen. There was also a wonderful assortment of regular Venetians, either in their rowing-club boats or out rowing their own, like us. And it’s always a treat to see a kid with an oar, as in the boat furthest to the right.

And this one, too, with two people — presumably father and son — out in their little *s’ciopon*. Gosh: There were two kids rowing around? Where will it end?

Friends from Arzana’, the association dedicated to the recovery of old Venetian boats, rowing a *batela buranela*. We caught up with them down by San Marco. I apologize for the quality of these images — cell phone cameras and sunshine don’t work together very well.

I don’t know them, but they are clearly on a private boat. If there is one positive side to all these troubles, it’s that the pandemic has created space where people can come out and row around in the Grand Canal again. No longer is it surging and roiling with taxis, which over the years increased to a number that effectively took over the entire canal (I’m referring to weekend activity; obviously there continue to be barges during the week). Everyone who was gradually elbowed out by all the waterborne tourist traffic has been able to return home, in a way. It makes you feel like you belong here again.

We went out for a late-afternoon walk today; there was very modest activity in via Garibaldi. Carnival barely touched the city as it drifted past, unable to land. As always, it was the children who made it happy.

The mother’s matching mask is a nice touch.

Time to go home. Just follow the clouds.

Uncategorized

A refund for 2020?

January 6, 2021 12 Comments

This doesn’t relate to Venice, but a friend sent it and I want to share it.

Obviously I can’t do simultaneous translation, but I’m putting the translation below. Apart from what they’re saying, the expressions and tones of voice of the two men make the whole exchange something very funny at first, slowly becoming more thought-provoking. I think it’s safe to assume that Fabrizio is at some call center in heaven. (Most sincere apologies to anyone who might have reasons not to find anything amusing in all this.)

Note: The writers/actors are two brothers from Palermo, Fabrizio and Federico Sansone, who create comedy sketches under the name “I Sansoni.” You can find them on Facebook, YouTube, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok.

Man A: Customer service?

Man B: Hello, I’m Fabrizio. How may I be of help to you?

A: I want to be reimbursed for 2020!

B (aside): We’ve got another one. (Faking voice): The lines are temporarily busy…

A: Look, don’t be a smart-aleck, I’ve been your client for 26 years and you have never sold me a year as ugly as this one. Never.

Man B: Excuse me, but why didn’t you like it? Did something in particular happen?

Man A: Something in particular? Only a world pandemic!

Man B: Okay, well, now let’s try to resolve your problem, and we’ll try to understand what to do, all right? Remain calm.

A: That is, Paolo Fox (TV personality and astrologer) at the beginning said this is the perfect year to go out, to travel, but maybe for coming out crazy it’s the perfect year.

B: Okay, fine, but that was a simple factory defect. The Paolo Fox program has been updated correctly.

A: That is…?

B: He always says asshole things, but in the end from now on he adds “Maybe.”

A: Such as?

B: Everything will be all right MAYBE. We’ll recover MAYBE.

A: So the fault for this pandemic is whose? The Pope? He’s the one I have to smack? The bats? The Chinese laboratories? Bugo? (A popular singer.)

B: Look, don’t go looking to blame. Look at the positive side! You’ve been at home for months, relaxing.

A: The first days, then I had to divorce.

B: Okay, for now many are divorcing their wives.

A: What wife? I divorced my parents! Maybe I’m the only case in Italy.

B: But in the summer things went a little better. No?

A: Yes, it’s true. There wasn’t any Covid. And then you know how it was? Everybody was open, closed, you had to disinfect all the bars, then the bars closed again, the schools, open, closed, half-open, you couldn’t understand. By now when I see a film, as soon as I see a film and see people who are kissing or hugging I get upset and I have to get up.

B: All right, let’s do this. I’ll talk to the owner and let’s see what I can do. Okay? Hold the line a minute.

(on-hold music: “We’ll make it…everything’s going to be fine…we’ll make it… everything’s going to be fine…we’ll make it…”)

B: All right, look. I spoke to the boss, and we can’t reimburse you for the year.

A: Why not?

B: But we can offer you unlimited masks, Amuchina (a disinfectant) for everybody and 1000 kilometers of moving around from one Comune to another even without relatives. You like it?

A: But you think these things have the same value of the things I’ve lost?

B: (silence)

A: The hugs, who’s going to reimburse me for them? The laughs with my friends that I couldn’t have, who’s going to give them back to me? The trips I couldn’t take, the people I couldn’t get to know? The normal life that I couldn’t live? These things, how do I get them back?

B: You can recover them if you don’t forget. If you don’t forget that a hug from your father isn’t something to take for granted. If you don’t forget that the laughs with your friends aren’t obvious. If you don’t forget that to know a new person, or take a trip, can change your life.

You can get everything back if when all is back to normal you fight for it, and go back to being amazed by everything that happens around us.

Maybe then, only in that moment, even 2020 will have served some purpose.

New Year … real life

A: Excuse me, but one last thing. For 2021, can I get insurance, so if things aren’t going well I can move straight to 2022?

B: You haven’t understood anything!

B: No, okay. I was asking for a friend.

Events

Musical New Year

January 2, 2021 14 Comments

I don’t often watch New Year’s Day concerts on television (or computer), but lots of people veer toward the version from Vienna, perhaps drawn by the irresistible, fatal lure of the “Radetzky March.”

This year, though, we were keen to see the concert from La Fenice, live via streaming, and apart from the music itself, I was entertained by observing all the measures the orchestra and chorus had taken to maintain distancing and otherwise limit contact in the decidedly closed area of the theatre. I checked them off, mentally, as from some viral bingo card. Masks, of course, though the inevitably maskless wind and brass players were separated by plexiglas panels. The chorus wore masks, which didn’t seem to affect the quality of the singing but must have been somewhat challenging where breathing was concerned. (Not to mention the drippage that masks inevitably call forth.) The next day it was sharply noted by many that the musicians of the Vienna concert had not worn masks.

Making space for everybody meant that the entire orchestra section of the theater was stripped of its pink velvet armchairs and covered with a platform. (Some of the armchairs were moved to the stage for the benefit of the singers.) I’d like some expert to explain how this repositioning might have affected the overall acoustics. I didn’t notice any particular problem.

Lack of an audience threatened depressing intervals of silence between the numbers, but it turned out that the performers applauded each other — the chorus clapped for the orchestra or soloists; the orchestra stamped their feet and the string players also tapped their music stands with their bows. The conductor clapped for everybody. It was perfect.

The armchairs are very comfortable and very luxe. It’s an ambitious space to cover, though. This image was taken before a performance two summers ago.

Naturally the program was entirely composed of old warhorses, and we love them all. This is one moment in the year when rash experiments in music are neither needed nor wanted.

The reason I’m mentioning all this is because someone had the charming idea to complement the “Barcarolle” from The Tales of Hoffman with a ride through the canals aboard a gondola. Even if you don’t care about music, old or equine, I wanted you to experience this sensation, partly because it has become sadly rare these days, and partly because these few waterborne moments give the most expressive glimpse of the city as she is at the moment that I’ve ever seen. I suppose it was filmed early on a Sunday, because although the taxis and gondolas have almost disappeared, the barges on workdays are still going full tilt. But the sense of emptiness, in canals and along many streets, has become all too common.

Among my many hopes for the New Year is one in particular: To see the city full of gondolas again, slipping through the maze of Venetian waterways. With or without Hoffman.

(Apologies for the quality of these clips; I couldn’t find any better. But they show the organization of the concert, and the music itself is wonderful, as always.)

« Previous 1 … 16 17 18 19 20 … 180 Next »