Venice: I am not making this up

The voice of some, crying in the wilderness

June 25, 2013 No Comments

The luxurious abandon of life here, the liberation from civilization’s leg-irons that makes some tourists claim that “Italians really know how to live” (I’ve heard them say this), can be seen in almost every corner of life in this city. Especially our special little niche. Dogs. Vaporettos. I’ve ranted about them many times and will most likely continue. The Phrygian Cabirian Mysteries must be easier to understand than certain behavior around here.

This spot is irresistible to anyone who has something to get rid of. One reason could be the ease of transferring the trash down the steps into the boat which presumably will come, if we live long enough, to take it away. The other reason which gives this spot its fatal magnetism is the sign which precisely states that it is forbidden to place or abandon garbage here. It's a challenge that's almost impossible to ignore, right up there with "Please don't throw me in the briar patch!" — This spot is irresistible to anyone who has something to get rid of; one day it could be melon rinds and pizza crusts, or bags of dusty gravel, today it’s a vintage iMac G3 computer. One reason this place is so appealing could be the ease of transferring the trash down the steps into the boat which presumably will come, if we live long enough, to take it away. The other reason which gives this spot its fatal magnetism is the sign which precisely states that it is forbidden to place or abandon garbage here. It’s a challenge that’s almost impossible to ignore, right up there with “Please don’t throw me in the briar patch!”

But I haven’t said a whole lot about garbage, except for occasional mentions of the people who put their bags out when acqua alta is predicted, so the bags float around the streets and out to sea; or those who put them out at night, or on Saturday afternoon to wait for Monday morning’s collection, thus giving the gulls plenty of time to rip them apart and throw their contents everywhere.

Where garbage is concerned, I’m going to curtail my own little diatribe and cast it in the vox of the populi, as noticed recently here and there. I am not the only one voxing objections, so this is a positive sign of something, I guess. But however many voices may be either muttering or yelling, there is a collective passivity which meets them with the density of the air in a vacuum. Shout all you wish; indulge in the intermittent scream; try your hand at a banshee howl or the ungodly screeching of fisher cats (Martes pennanti); your only response will be a sublime indifference approaching Nirvana.

Nirvana: “A place or state characterized by freedom from or oblivion to pain, worry and the external world.” The external world means everywhere that isn’t inside my four walls. In a word, Venice!!

It says, with admirable concision, that "It is forbidden the abandonment or dumping of trash — It says, with admirable concision, that “It is forbidden the abandoning or dumping of trash (Art. 9 D.P.R. 915/82) Whoever infringes Art. 9 will be punished according to the sanctions of the law.”

Here is the text, for the record, Your Honor, of Article 9 D.P.R. 915/82, translated by me:

Prohibition of abandoning garbage: It is forbidden the uncontrolled abandoning, dumping or depositing of garbage in public areas or private areas that are liable to public use. In the case of a breach, the mayor, when sanitary, health or environmental reasons subsist , shall decree an ordinance, with a deadline, for the cleaning-up of the area(s) at the expense of the responsible parties. By the terms contained in Law 10 of May 10, 1976, N. 319, and successive modifications, it is forbidden to dispose of any trash of any sort in either public or private waters.”

So is the old computer sitting on the fondamenta because you’re forbidden to throw it into the canal? Certainly not. Apparently the punitive “sanctions of the law” in this case means that the guilty party has to pay to have it removed. Which they could have arranged for free by calling the garbage collection hotline and making an appointment. But that takes time and thought. Time — don’t have it. Thought — don’t need it.

This bilingual cri de coeur was placed by the residents over this tiny dark passage which is, in fact, a street. The English translation speaks clearly and simply, and ought to be an effective appeal to anyone civic consciousness except for one tiny flaw..... — This bilingual cri de coeur was placed by the residents over this tiny dark passage which is, in fact, a street. The English translation speaks clearly and simply, and ought to be an effective appeal to anyone’s civic conscience except for one tiny flaw…..

...the tiny flaw is that the public trash bins, few as they may be, are expressly forbidden by law to contain household garbage, as shown by the sign on the bin below. — …which is that the public trash bins, few as they may be, are expressly forbidden by law to contain household garbage, as clearly stated on the bin below.

this is a test — “It is forbidden to insert bags of garbage into the bins, and to abandon bags and garbage around the bins. This behavior will be fined.”

So let’s review: According to the exasperated residents of Calle Vechia, the bags of garbage not theirs have to be taken to the bins. But according to the bins, the garbage isn’t allowed into them.

This leaves one alternative: Do what the city says and put your bag of garbage on your own personal doorstep of the structure where you live before 8:00 AM, and the collector will come by and pick it up and throw it into his big rolling metal box and take it away. I can’t understand why so many people seem to find this system so obnoxious. You’d think they’d been told to make bricks without straw.

So who are these bag-bestrewing malefactors? They can’t be the much-reviled tourists, because they don’t have bags of garbage. They have beer bottles and little plastic ice-cream cups and spoons and Coke cans and things that would fit easily into the bins. (Ignore the fact that these objects often don’t get that far, but are left on the nearest windowsill, because the bins are few and inconveniently placed.)

A tourist didn’t lug that computer to the water’s edge. And tourists don’t sneak out with bags of garbage and leave them in dark alleys.

You see where I’m going. By process of elimination, the principal offenders are Venetians. Why? We’re back to First Principles: It’s because being told that something is forbidden excites a primal urge to do that very thing and nothing else. And lest we suppose the Old Venetians in the Great Old Days were any more virtuous, the hoary stone tablet over the door to what was a convent garden near the church of Sant’ Andrea de la Zirada tells the same old story. Don’t do this, don’t do that — the excellent administrators of the city were refreshingly precise, and they made the punishments very clear. They even carved it in stone, as it were.

And yet I’d be willing to bet that the Old Venetians, who hadn’t thought of anything that day more urgent than whether to fry or grill the sardines, would immediately have felt an overwhelming impulse to run out and start to blaspheme, play cards, throw dice, or at least to tumultuar and strepitar, which basically means create an unholy racket.

People are just made that way.

The doorway appears truncated almost certainly because the street has been built up over time. Possibly by layers of garbage.

Making allowances for missing or illegible elements, the text says: "The most illustrious — Making allowances for missing or illegible elements, the text says: “The Serene Prince (the doge) makes it known and by the deliberation of the most excellent Lords against Blasphemy that there not be any … cards dice stickball and other games in this place near the church of the nuns of Sant’ Andrea and the game with the big ball … riot or raise hell … nor use obscene words nor commit scandalous acts nor hang out wool near this church (note: there was a large Flemish wool-working community nearby) and other things which impede the passage transgressors will be subject to banishment the galleys flogging the pillory prison (?) their excellencies will condemn the accusers which accusation will be kept secret (here I lose myself in a maze of abbreviations, so will stop) X 7 1610 Antonio Canal Alvise Mocenigo Piero Sagredo Tommaso Emo

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Blooming everything

June 18, 2013 1 Comment

In honor of the brief but glorious interlude of the blossoming of the lime trees (or linden, or tilia, or whatever you call them) — no visible blossoms, and in fact, no visible trees, but only soft, luxurious waves of their delicate perfume from somewhere nearby — I offer a view of the recent spring, as told by flowers. Summer will be here in two days, and many of the flowers are already moving on. But each one of them was part of a spring which was chilly, late, and cranky, and often very lovely.

The pittosporum along the fondamenta by the Biennale is one of the first to appear each spring. It hangs on the longest, aging gracefully, concentrating its perfume to an almost nauseating degree. — The pittosporum along the fondamenta by the Biennale is one of the first flowers to appear each year. It hangs on the longest, aging gracefully, concentrating its perfume to an almost nauseating degree.

Roses in the Giardini, which appear to open all at once. — Roses in the Giardini, which seem to have opened all at once.

And yet more roses. These seem to tend more toward the old-fashioned, Elizabethan rose, which I like. — And yet more roses. These seem to tend more toward the dog rose, which I like.

No war of the roses here; the red counterpart was planted virtually in the lap of the white roses.

Then there are poppies just about everywhere. — Then suddenly there are poppies everywhere.

With tamarisk blooming neck and neck with them. — With tamarisk blooming to keep them company.

There are homespun patches of garden around the neighborhood also. This is a sage plant in the process not only of flowering, but taking over the world.

Grapes in their earliest stage. Not a flower, of course, but I'll take signs of life in any form that's going. — Grapes in their earliest stage. Not a flower, of course, but I’ll take signs of life in any form that’s going.

Oleanders aren't among my top ten, but this edition is an exception. It's partly the fact that it has become a tree, and partly that the tree has such a beautiful shape. — Oleanders aren’t among my top ten, but this edition is an exception. It’s partly the fact that it has left shrubdom behind to become a tree, and partly that the tree has such a beautiful shape.

Though the blooms aren't bad, I must admit. — Though the blooms aren’t bad, I must admit.

The magnolias are coming out all over. Lovely as the flower may be, I have recently become more enchanted by the buds and the leaves, if anyone cares to know.

The famous violet artichoke of Sant' Erasmo is a first-rate flower. — The famous violet artichoke of Sant’ Erasmo is a first-rate flower.

And back to roses again, which have found their niche in a closed-off doorway.

Venetian Problems

Dogs ruling the roost?

June 13, 2013 4 Comments

There is a strong local conviction that bottles of water prevent dogs from whizzing on public surfaces. Doorways, walls, and even wells are often defended by these bottles. Whether it works or not, it's better than attacking the animals, not to mention their owners. — There is a strong local conviction that bottles of water prevent dogs from whizzing on public surfaces. Doorways, walls, and even wells are often defended by these bottles. Whether it works or not, it’s better than attacking the animals, not to mention their owners. Just another example of the struggle to coexist with the neighbors without resorting to weaponry.

There has been so much madness-by-the-metric-ton here lately that it might have been easy to miss a small but perfectly formed fragment of recent craziness.

The stories in the Gazzettino kept the city apprised, moment by moment (translated by me):

STOP THE CHILDREN’S BIRTHDAY PARTIES AT THE PARCO GROGGIA THEY DISTURB THE DOGS

Not made up, I’m sorry to say.

There is a large, luxuriously verdant park in the farther reaches of Cannaregio known as the Parco of the Villa Groggia. It is understandably a favorite place for families, children, and the occasional canine to frolic and gambol. You might have thought that this would be the Venetian version of the Peaceable Kingdom, missing only a chorus of singing begonias, but you would have thought wrong.

I have expounded elsewhere on the passion of Venetians for their dogs. But there is a subtle line that divides passion from obsession and some people have clearly crossed it.

Many dog owners — which is not a correct term, because it’s obvious that many dogs own the people — firmly believe that their pets were born with certain inalienable rights, including running around off the leash and often doing more tangible and disagreeable things. But apart from the repulsive and unhealthy reminders of this fabulous freedom, there is also the potential for an uncontrolled dog to harm a child. This may seem obvious to you and me, but not to a dog’s bipedal slave. The kind of person who refers to herself as the dog’s “mamma.” I heard it just this morning. I don’t know how men of this mentality — and there must be some — characterize themselves. Maybe they call themselves “Uncle” or “Cousin.”

This conflict at the Parco Groggia started a while back, when a balloon, pursued by a tyke, popped, thereby “terrorizing” a certain lady’s little dog. “From that moment,” said Tiffi, a mother of three who has a dog, too, “everything the kids do is under attack.”

The dog slaves — or at least this one belligerent lady — have made many complaints about the children to Franca Caltarossa, the director of the local playroom called the “Grasshopper and the Ant.” They want the children to play inside, preferably (I’m imagining this) in the dark, in the cold, with the windows shut and sealed by duct tape.

Next headline:

NOW THERE IS A PETITION FOR THE VILLA GROGGIA

Citizens and mothers, to the number of 120, signed a petition protesting the requested ban on alfresco birthday parties. It’s not easy to find nice green open public space here, for one thing. For another, Franca Caltarossa revealed that this is only the latest in a series of disagreements with certain neighbors. “This isn’t the first time that we’ve had problems with the dog owners. We’ve had to call the police more than once because they let their dogs run free, endangering the children.”

While the dog-slaves are fixated on how disturbing children can be, they evince no awareness of how phenomenally disturbing their dogs can be to most of the rest of us, even if we love dogs, on the whole. They bark, they shriek, they scuffle, while their human lackeys either ignore or abet them by smiling. It would take Nanny McPhee with a blunderbuss to re-educate them to the notion of living civilly with other people.

The story even got big play on the newsstand billboards: "Stabs to death his neighbor's dog." A fantasy of many fulfilled by one? — The story even got big play on the newsstand billboards: “Stabs to death his neighbor’s dog.” A fantasy of many fulfilled by one?

Speaking of armaments and their usefulness in re-educating the neighbors, just the other day an unidentified man living at Stra, up the Brenta River toward Padova, decided to handle things his own way.

The headline yesterday was: “Stabs to death the dog that attacked his.” Two mutts leaped on his Springer spaniel and he couldn’t get them to stop, so he pulled out a knife and stabbed both of the dogs, killing one. The carabinieri arrived before he could play an encore on the enraged owner of the two dogs. He has been cited for illegally carrying a dangerous weapon and for killing an animal, while the owner of the victims was charged with not controlling his dogs.

But of course, things would never reach that point in the Parco Groggia, especially if we were to herd the little kiddies into a cellar and push a big stone on top of the door.

Is there a special circle in hell for the Grinch, Ebenezer Scrooge, Silas Marner, Captain Ahab, Edward Murdstone, and their ilk? There must be plenty of room left for the dog-owners of Cannaregio. Or rather, “owner.” A statement from the Comune referred to “complaints from a user of the park.” It doesn’t take many to get the wild rumpus started and evidently this person is already well-known for his or her grievances.

The first official voice of reason was heard from Erminio Viero, president of the municipality. “The park of Villa Groggia is for everybody,” he said. “The park is under our responsibility and there is no preclusion of children. Dogs can circulate only on the walkways and on the leash.” This must be the first time many of the dog-people have ever heard of these rules and I’m sure they think it’s a fable.

“THE ALARM” WITHDRAWN FOR THE PARTIES AT THE VILLA GROGGIA

The city’s statement on all this is: “There has never been a prohibition (against children in the park). Children’s parties will continue to be organized by “The Grasshopper and the Ant” utilizing the park of Villa Groggia, just as it has been established by the City Council deliberation of October 2, 2003 which is still in effect, which permits and regulates the parties, even for birthdays, of the city’s playrooms (“ludoteca“).

That’s pretty clear, but Mr. Viero couldn’t resist chiming in, with all the ardor of a Russian provincial functionary in a story by Chekhov: He denied “in the most absolute manner that there is any provision whatever put out by the municipality with the purpose of prohibiting or limiting the children’s parties at Villa Groggia, parties which the municipality is more than happy to host in its territory. Common sense and the most elementary civic manners suggest to the owners of dogs to always keep them on a leash.” (For those dog owners who may lack common sense and the most elementary civic manners, there is also a city ordinance — see above.)

The last word goes to Tiziana Agostini, city councilor for education: “If there is a happy place for children , it’s Venice, and in Venice, it’s the Parco Groggia.”

One dog is on a leash (inexplicable), while another is roaming free with no owner in sight. This is typical.

This busy little spaniel was released on his own recognizance for while.... no owner in sight..... — This busy little dog was released on his/her own recognizance for a few important moments…. no owner in sight…..

Then he was very civilly attached to his leash while his owner went into the cafe. Manners are a great thing, but they work better when you use them correctly. — Then he/she was very civilly attached to the leash while the woman who owns the dog went into the cafe. You see? She did know what she was supposed to do.

This little dog is never on a leash, and has a shrill, shrieking bark with which it defends itself against everyone and everything. It's unbearable, espcially when the owner is sitting for hours with her friends at the next table at the cafe. — This little dog is never on a leash, and has a shrill, hysterical bark with which it defends itself against everyone and everything. It’s unbearable, especially when the owner is sitting for hours with her friends at the next table at the cafe and every moving object the dog can see needs to be screamed at.

I like everything about this scene: The calm, the tranquillity, the equilibrium, the leashes. But especially the calm. It’s possible that this woman hates children and everything they stand for, but at least her dogs aren’t being used as pawns in some silent struggle.

Venetian Events

The end of art

June 11, 2013 No Comments

This was when it was art. — That was then.

Does everyone remember the gondola loaded with cut-up gondolas that was parked in our canal in the opening fervor of the Biennale?

The opening of the Biennale is, as I’m sure I’ve mentioned, more like starling-swarming or the wildebeest migration than anything else. Dramatic for a short sharp moment, then it’s over and people forget about it.

By now the process is complete. The swarms began to depart the evening of June 2, and although fluttering shreds of tourists remain, the sort who seem to have come actually to look at the art and not each other (shocking, I know), life on the whole is back to its incomprehensible normality.

As everyone knows, the gondola assemblage was art. A week has passed, and this creation has been demoted to Private First Class, downgraded to Economy, put back a grade, however you want to put it.

Having fulfilled its purpose — whatever it was — the object has been removed from its watery pedestal, and taken far away. Not so far in geographic terms, but extremely far in terms of appreciation. You may have heard of “value added”? This is an example of “value subtracted.”

It is now resting quietly in the devastated territory of our rowing club. Evidently the squero here nearby that confected it didn’t want it back soon (or ever); anyway, I was told that in exchange for painting one of our boats, we agreed to let them stash it here.

Sic transit.