Today is the feast of All Souls, more informally called “I Morti” (the dead). Unlike Mexico and maybe some other countries, celebrating/commemorating the Day of the Dead in Venice is not a big holiday, in a festive sort of sense.
Here, one typically — if one is old-fashioned, as we are — eats a few “fave” on the night of All Saints, i.e. November 1. They’re so intensely sweet that I can manage only one or two before saying good-bye to these morsels for another year.
And this evening, one would typically roast chestnuts and drink torbolino, the first drawing-off of the new wine. (We skip the torbolino because naturally it isn’t as good now as it was in the old days.)
So much for the few remaining traditions observed on this day, but wait! This year a temporary bridge was assembled to connect the Fondamente Nove to the cemetery island of San Michele, reviving a custom that had been abandoned in 1950. It isn’t the old bridge, of course, which used to be set up on massive wooden boats called peate. What impresses me is that enough of these boats were taken out of service back then for a number of days, because 70 years ago they were still hard at work.
This year, to general amazement, the city (mayor, basically, who is soon up for re-election — I’M NOT THE ONLY PERSON WHO HAS NOTICED THAT) decided to spend 450,000 euros ($502,776) on a pontoon bridge resembling the one set up for the feast of the Redentore in July. The bridge will be up until November 10, so there’s still time if any reader wants to stroll across it to the cemetery. There are vaporettos back to Venice if the gentle rocking motion of the bridge has lost its appeal.
We’re not big cemetery-goers, but we went to pay our respects to some of Lino’s family who have gone ahead, as the Alpine Regiment soldiers refer to their comrades at funerals. Obviously we’ve been before, though of course it was less oppressive going today than it was twice in the last two years, accompanying a coffin. I probably didn’t need to say that. The bridge was appealing, but not our main motive for the excursion.
The city had imposed a rule, enforced by numerous people in various uniforms, that the bridge could be used today and tomorrow only by residents, Venetians or otherwise (showing either their vaporetto pass or their I.D.), or anybody with the vaporetto pass, by which they mean the long-term one which would indicate some more than passing connection with the city. At first we thought this was extremely weird, even though people could certainly go via the free vaporetto today.
But a Venetian friend I met on the bridge explained that one reason for this rule was to squelch tour groups from swarming it (bridge and cemetery) for the novelty of it all, thereby ruining what is a very personal and often emotional experience for people who live here. She said that some tour operators had indeed publicized this event, so let me offer an unsolicited compliment to whoever thought up that rule. Gad. That’s all we need — tourists on the bridge to the cemetery today. They can go on Monday, and every day till next Sunday if they want to.
I was surprised to run into a good number of people we know, either on the traverse or wandering around the plots, looking for their deceased relatives, often holding bouquets or other flower arrangements. The place was absolutely bursting with flowers; it has never looked that good, and the colors were wonderfully welcome in what was a dank, gray, cold, rainy day. Perfect weather for the occasion, true, but after a while one’s thoughts wandered from the past to the very present cold, wet feet.
All told, several hours well spent. And thoughts and emotions dedicated to several exceptional people, starting with Lino’s parents, two sisters and a brother. The rest are interred in the cemetery in Mestre, where I wouldn’t have gone, though I wafted them a number of familial thoughts.