The island of Sant’ Erasmo is the largest in the entire lagoon, which is the least of its appeal. It is a sort of antidote, if you will, to Venice, especially on a muted autumn afternoon. And if you love mosquitoes, you will have gone to heaven. So have the mosquitoes, come to think of it.
Anyone going to the center of town on the island of Sant’ Erasmo (which is redundant — the town is nothing but center) has the option of changing vaporettos at the first stop (“Capannone”) and proceeding to the next stop (“Chiesa”), or spending a tranquil 30 minutes walking from C1 to C2.
The first time I did this was unintentional. Years ago I was voyaging toward the center of town to watch the three Venetian rowing races held there every year on the first Sunday in June. But bad timing on my part meant that I was stuck ashore, because I had had no reason to know that service on that part of the vaporetto’s normal route would be suspended; for a few shining moments each year the vaporettos are banned from what is essentially the racetrack, watery though it may be. This is one of the few occasions in which a Venetian boat being rowed gets to tell a motorboat what it can’t do.
Trekking along among the fields, I discovered I really liked going that way. So a few weeks ago, on the way to the early October races, I happily set out on my pastoral excursion.
It doesn’t look very far, when seen on the map, but when you walk this route you have the sensation of having been transported extremely far from Venice in every way. That’s part of its charm, naturally.
The road is officially named Via de le Motte, which roughly means “Street (or Way) of the Small Artificial Islands Constructed at Convenient Points for the Fishing Valleys.” Man-made hillocks, basically, which makes sense considering how much work has been done during the centuries to make the lagoon useful to people. But it wasn’t long before I discovered that the impending matrimony of two unknown lovers had inspired at least one friend (possibly more than one) to offer a series of dire, last-minute warnings spray-painted onto the asphalt.
For all I know, though, they might have been sprayed on in the dark of night by the groom himself. Or best man? Matron of honor? Mother of the bride? Her father? Her father-in-law?
The very soul and spirit of rural tranquillity. But soon the scene will unexpectedly shift toward drama, imagined or real.“Evviva ea sposa”( Long live the bride). Note for anyone interested in the Venetian language: You do not spell “la” as “ea,” you just pronounce it that way. This spelling is a fairly recent aberration, but it seems to be taking hold. Anyway, the sentiment is charming.“Torna indrio” (torna indietro): Turn back! Me, or the bride? Walk on…Sweet. Now we’re back in lovebird territory. Here’s to C + F. But below the initials are two mystic symbols, one which appear to be pliers or shears or wirecutters, and a turtle. The turtle, I am informed, represents the value of not rushing to the church but taking one’s time, and the shears stand for the groom’s nickname. Read on.“Sei sicura?” (Are you sure?). The use of the feminine gender here is a bit ominous, though I guess it’s not a totally unusual question to ask the bride on the cusp of the great day. One has been known to ask it of oneself, I’ve heard.“Stop” needs no translation. “Fermite” repeats “Stop” as directed to a person.“Dimentica” (forget) followed by “NO.” Pretty clear meaning, but I have discovered that there is a rock song entitled “Dimentica,” sung by a man known as Raf, which is devoted to the melancholy delight raised by the recollection of a love affair which is no more. If this is a veiled reference to lines such as “Forget my words if you can forgive them,” it doesn’t bode well, except for the emphatic “NO.” Maybe I’m overthinking this. On we go.I’m not completely alone with this disembodied duo (or trio?). People have places to go even on Sant’ Erasmo and this is a main road, after all.“Rinuncia a Trancia.” (Renounce “Trancia.”) This isn’t a command to quit using shears/wirecutters/pliers, but an admonition to reject the groom, who happens to go by the nickname “Trancia.” Things are getting a little tense?
“Sei ancora in tempo” (you still have time). I’m beginning to tend toward the best man as perpetrator. A rejected lover? It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Fai inversione” (make a U-turn), with a helpful arrow. Bear in mind that these admonitions are spaced reasonably far apart, enough so that as you walk along you don’t see the next one coming up. Of course this adds to their increasing intensity.“Stai superando il limite” (you are passing the limit). As one approaches the town center — you see that lagoon has taken the place of the artichoke fields — the message seems to acquire a certain force. Last chance, babe. You’ve been warned.“Ormai ci siamo” (by now we’re there, “there” implying a conclusion but not a geographical point. It’s as if something has been settled, not that you’ve just about reached the municipal swimming pool).“Specialita’ del giorno tartar di trancia” (Daily special tartare of Trancia). You either have to be a relative, or at least a native of the island, to get the nuances here, but I imagine it’s hilarious.
And so the weird seer fades into the boggy marshes, his/her/their exhortations exhausted.
“The course of true love never did run smooth,” Shakespeare averred. Who’d have thought he’d seen the road on Sant’ Erasmo?
In my last post I mentioned the various physical effects of the Redentore festivizing, but I forgot to mention the nautical manifestations of Redentore Syndrome. A new one turned up on the Morning After (Sunday).
You should know that by now a large percentage — I’d guess around 97 per cent — of the boats which come to watch the fireworks are not carrying Venetians. By this I don’t mean to say that Venetians don’t come (though an informal survey reveals that they are fewer each year), nor do I mean that Venetians only come in boats with oars, because, there too, the number is dwindling. Certainly some Venetians come in their motor- or sailboats. But, at least in our neighborhood, people either watch from the fondamenta, as we do, or don’t go at all. (Giorgio was asleep upstairs by 9:30.) A wander around the zone revealed that the majority of the partyers are from elsewhere — foreigners on vacation, or people from the hinterland in every direction, from Chioggia to Treviso to Padova to points beyond. Many of them do not have a deep experience of boats, as I can confirm from seeing them around the lagoon.
The lagoon as seen by the innumerable people who come to zoom around for the day or, in the current case, the night. Notice the lack of waves, pilings, current, barges, taxis, ambulances, fire-department boats, vaporettos, houseboats, or any other potential hazard. One of our more hilarious memories was the Redentore years ago when the man in the big motorboat two boats over from ours spent the entire evening trying to set his anchor. He kept throwing it, it kept coming loose. The last time he threw it, he fell in. It really was better than the fireworks. (Photo: Maksim Kostenko/Fotolia)
In any case, here is the latest exhibit in that category. What I will never know is whether it was the boat’s owner, or some kindly soul full of good intentions where experience ought to be, who tied it up in this eccentric manner. It’s kind of adorable.
The first funny thing is that this boat is exactly across the canal from the strangled boat of last year. Is this the first landfall certain people manage to make when leaving the scene of the fireworks? Because I can almost promise you they don’t live around here. Being positive, though, we can all be glad that the boat is, indeed, immobilized in some way, and not out there roaming around like the Flying Dutchman.The knot on the boat itself comes from “The Sailor’s Guide to Super-Secure Knots to Make in the Dark While Drunk” (probably). Three thousand turns of a line does not necessarily guarantee that it will stay tied. I speak from experience (though in my experience I was neither drunk, nor was it dark). So I’m guessing this is where the line will give way if a storm strikes.Apparently the person gave up on this incomprehensible knot — good decision — and just draped it atop the stanchion. I’m still trying to decide if this is a genius idea because I guess it would hold pretty well. But I can’t figure out if the knot came first and the loop was just a desperate way to make it useful.Graceful. I like the way it was passed behind one support and through another. This person has an artistic soul, because this couldn’t have been done by chance.And around the boat’s snout. It doesn’t look terribly secure, but the person was doing his/her/their best to cover all the important points. I can hear the Captain’s voice now: “‘Avast, and belay there with a double turn, goodman host.” (The Knight of the Golden Melice).Lino was briefly amused by the photo and the ingenious mooring. As for who or what might have been responsible, his remark was even briefer: “All you have to do is look at the cap,” he said, “and you know everything you need to know.”
By now all the world knows — the world that reads this blog — that the feast of the Redentore is a huge event here, and has been for 441 years, counting this year.
The food, the fireworks, the votive bridge, the races, the church — it’s all fabulous. Confirmed by the pharmacist dryly this morning, “Tomorrow everyone will be in here with headaches, with stomach-aches, with everything-aches…”.
But yesterday I got an unexpected glimpse behind the curtain, as it were. The fireworks staging area was in full cry, making the most of the area at the farthest corner of the Arsenale that has been walled-off for eventual repairs to bits of MOSE.
As the 5.2 vaporetto left the Bacini stop behind, heading toward the Lido, I took a quick series of photos of the panoply of preparation:
Heading east…What ho — we have company.Floating platforms are awaiting loads of fireworks, brought here in trucks on other floating platforms, like the grocery trucks that resupply the supermarkets.Everything that’s being unloaded atop the wall is going to be transferred to its position in the regiment destined to be exploded tonight.This is roughly what “the rockets’ red glare” looks like when it’s at home.It’s hard to believe all those explosives fit into those few trucks. I’m sure there’s an explanation. Probably “One hundred deliveries” covers it.Perhaps this is what retired bomb-squad experts do as extra work. And an unintended but very willing shout-out to the “Parente Fireworks” escadrille. Many of the greatest names in pyrotechnics are Italian: Grucci, Zambelli….. We’ll see how the Parente group compares.Just like the old song, “Love and marriage…horse and carriage…” we have “fireworks and watermelon.” You can eat watermelon whenever you want, but if you don’t have it tonight … well, I don’t know what would happen. Maybe the fireworks wouldn’t go off.
Everyone knows that 33 days ago (June 2, for the record) a cruise ship named the MSC “Opera” ran into the dock at San Basilio and delivered a glancing blow to a smaller ship moored there, and a mighty thwack to the dock itself. The video of the event created quite the sensation, though probably nothing near the sensation experienced by crew and passengers.
Not an accepted position for mooring in Venice. (Photo: ANSA)
Many people were horrified but, as you might imagine, the “No Big Ships” contingent was ecstatic. Whatever your emotions, for those few seconds it appeared that the end of the world had come. Abundant photos and a video are to be found here.
Technicians swarmed the ship, examining every valve and screw; statements were taken, legal documents were launched, apologies and reimbursements rained down upon the passengers. The proximate cause of the incident was the breaking of the bow tugboat’s line to the ship as it struggled to slow the ship’s speed. But it seems that something was amiss with the engine; an official of a tugboat company explained to France 24 that “The engine was blocked, but with its thrust on, because the speed was increasing.”
According to Mr. James Walker, a Miami-based maritime lawyer and cruise safety advocate, “Cruise ships typically have redundant power systems; however, it is not possible for a secondary power source to immediately or instantaneously activate in time to avert an accident like this,” noting there was nothing the captain could have done to avoid the collision.
One factor that I haven’t seen mentioned anywhere amid all the technical details of the ship was the tide. Anyone who was near — or especially on – the water could confirm that there was a very powerful incoming tide that morning; obviously it would have added significantly to the ship’s forward momentum. The next ship in line to enter Venice waited for at least an hour, immobile, in front of Sant’ Elena, while the rear-facing tugboat attached to its stern kept its engines roaring at full-speed-ahead (i.e., pulling the ship backward), straining to resist the power of the current.
To return to the wayward ship: After a week or so the MSC “Opera” was back at work. I saw it go.
So things are back to normal. I can say that because I noticed other signs.
For example, last Saturday (June 29), as we were crossing the causeway to Venice, I counted nine (9) cruise ships in port. I interpret that to mean that the cruise industry has not labeled Venice a hazardous-duty post.
Also: Passing San Basilio in the vaporetto, I could see the damage to the dock. Frankly, our bathroom is in worse shape than this.
The fondamenta after the collision. More detailed photos are visible on tg24/sky. The wounds don’t look good, but neither do they appear apocalyptic. I’m happy to know that the fondamente are so strong.
Perhaps most important, last Sunday morning around 9:00 AM I saw a majestic ship bearing the MSC emblem approaching Venice. According to the port schedule, this would have been the MSC “Magnifica,” but the “Opera” was right behind it an hour later. It was being accompanied (not literally towed, as you can always see that the ship is proceeding under its own power) by two monster tugboats in place of the previous single, more modest tug.
One can almost imagine the faint melody of a ceremonial march — this is quite the escort.The captain stated that the line attaching the tugboat to his ship’s bow had broken, so now two more robust tugs will accompany ships above a certain tonnage. This arrangement seems to me to be the most effective defense against any possible repetition. A successful resolution of a problem is one that doesn’t create new problems, and this is simpler, cheaper, and less damaging to the lagoon than digging new channels to send the ships to the mainland shore, or offshore, or whatever the shore-du-jour may be in the endless struggle to find a way to banish the ships from the bacino of San Marco.
For those who object to the ships on aesthetic grounds — big, out of proportion, ugly passing Venice, none of which is debatable, though I think we should, as a general rule, resist correlating beauty and safety — one should keep in mind that smaller boats are often involved in similar accidents, with worse results than a banged-up fondamenta. Four days before this event, a river-cruise boat collided with a sightseeing vessel on the Danube at Budapest, leaving seven dead and 21 missing. Neither ship was big.
When a solution is reached to which all parties can agree, something will change. Meanwhile, the monster tugs are on the job.
