Newspaper headlines have to do two things: Be short, and make you want to buy the paper. You’ve got to have emotions about whatever it is, and Lord knows there’s no lack of emotions around here.
Be careful, though, not to draw the wrong conclusions or make wild assumptions when you have more feelings than information.
Case in point: This simple but fraught headline on today’s announcement board at the newsstand.
It contains nothing but emotional words: “Moto ondoso gondola capsized two boys saved.” Anyone here has only to read the words “moto ondoso” to brace themselves for the worst. This term refers to the chaotic waves caused by the ever-increasing motorboat traffic, and obviously is never good. Moto ondoso has recently reappeared — yet again — in the forefront of Venetian minds as the clearest and most present danger to waterborne vehicles and their passengers. The city itself is being victimized, too, pounded all day by the impact of the thrashing water. So we see “moto ondoso” and instantly we intuit danger, and knowing nothing more we assume that the gondola had people in it (tourists, probably). Perhaps the passengers were the two boys? Boat overturns, people being “saved” = nearly avoided drowning, is my quick assumption. What other danger would they need to have been saved from? All this is what the telegraphic headline implies.
The very brief story in La Nuova Venezia basically said that two 18-year-old boys were towing a gondola between the Bacini and San Pietro di Castello on a wide canal known as the Canale delle Navi, known also as a stretch of water becoming increasingly wild with the wakes of every motorized vehicle known to Venice. They were bringing the boat to the squero for repairs.
Some water entered the gondola, courtesy of a wave, and more followed. The boat became yet more unstable, and before long the combination of internal and external liquid pushed the boat overboard, so to speak. The article says that the boys fell in the water, but didn’t explain how. Waves and some variety of panic could have done the trick.
A passing boat rendered immediate aid, the firemen were called, as were the local police. The story will undoubtedly develop with claims and counterclaims (there seems to be some talk of a big tourist launch that was speeding). Allow me to shake my two raised fists and bellow “Curse you, moto ondoso!”
But I thought I’d reflect for a moment on the fact that towing a boat here isn’t as simple as you might think. I have participated in numerous transfers of rowing boats under tow, and you quickly discover that, even without waves, you need to pay attention. It’s not unusual to see motorboats towing some Venetian boat from the area of the race eliminations at very high speed, and some of those boats flip over too.
This was Lino a few years ago towing an eight-oar gondola and two normal gondolas. We were returning from a big event in Nafpaktos, Greece in which Venetian boats were major participants. Each boat here has some people aboard, which may well not have been the case of the unfortunate boys.
We know nothing about how this operation was being carried out. Was the gondola tied by the bow or the stern? How fast were they going? How long was the rope linking the two boats? Was there wind? In the early afternoon they would have been going against the tide; was that a factor? Don’t think I’m trying to defend the waves, I am just saying that this is a tricky undertaking for anyone who may not yet know some of the fine points. If one of the boys had been sitting in the gondola, using the oar as a sort of rudder to keep the boat from slewing around, that would have been a huge help. Or you can usefully tie a length of chain, or some deadweight object, to the stern to act as a sort of sea anchor keeping the boat from skidding around. The boat wants to fishtail because it is already riding on the swervy crest of two waves that are the wake created by the motorboat itself.
Here the foreground gondola has been allowed to skew to the right; the people aboard weren’t paying attention. As you can see in the gondola behind it, each of the two men aboard are holding oars to use as a sort of rudder. The right pressure just before the boat begins to wander off course keeps it in line. If there were more waves here, it would be clearer how vulnerable the already-low left side of the gondola is to taking on water.Here I am with a friend, each of us working with our oars to keep this caorlina on the straight and narrow. It’s not just the gondola; any Venetian boat wants to wander off course when it’s being towed.
Of course we don’t want waves, and we don’t want boys falling in the water all of a sudden. I’m certainly ready to blame moto ondoso for every bad thing on earth. But towing a boat is like driving in the snow. Things can happen.
Another view of the boats moving around. You really need to anticipate the boat’s tendency to slither out of line, otherwise you’ll wear yourself out hauling on your oar way too hard. Lino has towed as many as nine boats by himself. Naturally that’s the Expert Level, because the person driving the motorboat has to be extremely sensitive to the motion of the boats behind him or her. When the towed boat pulls in one direction, it exerts pressure on the motorboat to veer off in the opposite direction. There are just any number of factors to keep track of, and everything is moving all the time. At least here there weren’t any waves.
The “Serenissima” takes the lead in the corteo, bearing trumpeters and assorted officials (mayor, patriarch, high-ranking military officers, etc.) from San Marco to the church of San Nicolo’ on the Lido. There all the boats pause to witness the tossing of the commemorative ring and laurel wreath into the water, with appropriate benediction. This year the event was scheduled for May 24, but there will be no boats.
May is a special month to many people, for many reasons. I believe a million poets have made that observation.
For me, the month of roses and gobies and European flounder (there is definitely a poem in there waiting to be lured out), has always been one of the most stressful in the whole year. I would begin dreading May in February, because of two enormous, hence exhausting, annual events that involved Lino and me: the festival of the Sensa (Ascension Day) and the Vogalonga. (“Involved” means planning as well as execution; Lino is part of the Committee of the Sensa, and I would work in the registration office of the Vogalonga for the two weeks leading up to the event.)
Then I would participate in both events — the boat procession, or corteo, for the Sensa, proceeding from Venice to the Lido, and the Vogalonga, which when everything went well would take a good five hours. Things did not always go well; one year it took us seven hours to complete it, due to contrary wind and/or tide, some less-than-prepared rowers in our boat, etc. That’s not a complaint, just a statement. These things happen and you just grit your teeth and carry on. Apart from the rowing itself, we’d see many friends only once a year for the Vogalonga, so any empty spaces in the calendar or the energy of that weekend were filled with convivial (fancy word for “running far into the night”) gatherings in apartments, restaurants, boats, etc.
But this May is abnormal, melancholy, bizarre, because both events have long since been canceled, taking all that annoying confusion, exhaustion, and tension with them. And I’m still not happy! Because this is weird!
The Sensa has been reduced to the commemorative mass at the church of San Nicolo’ on the Lido; it will be attended by the usual personages, but there will be no boats, no tossing of the wreath or the ring, and no races. Why? Because GATHERINGS ARE FORBIDDEN. People would want to GATHER along the shore to watch, and the rowers would certainly be gathered in their boats (forbidden), and the boats would be gathered, and just no.
The corteo was always wonderful, so I’m putting in a few photos of past editions, seeing that we won’t be on the water on Sunday.Apart from the challenge of social distancing inside the boat, there would be no point in distancing the boats. Trying to get as close as possible to the “Serenissima” is part of the fun.
I suppose some private boats could form a procession, each one rowed by the permitted maximum of two people, but that would be even sadder than no boats at all. I told Lino I thought it would extremely cool if every boat club would send their big representative boat, but instead of a full crew each one could be rowed by two people (even the boats that are set up for ten, or 12, or 14 people) or — even better! — rowed by just one person. He said he didn’t think there were that many individuals capable of rowing a big boat by themselves, so there goes that little inspiration. Also, only I have this sort of crackpot idea.
Don’t think it’s crazy to suggest rowing the boats alone — all gondolas are rowed the same way, no matter how big they are, and all of the rowing clubs’ ceremonial boats are gondolas. Here is Lino in Greece on an 8-oar beauty. For him it was nothing even remotely resembling a big deal. He went out that morning on his own because it made him feel happy. He loved that boat.
But back to reality. The limitations on rowers would make it impossible to form a corteo. Here is the list of regulations from our boat club; notice that using the boats requires booking a time slot to ensure that only the rowers going out are permitted to even be in the clubhouse. Fine, it was just a fantasy.
“It is forbidden to use the changing rooms and showers in the club. Boats may go out with one rower. Boats with two rowers can go out if they respect the minimum distance of two meters between them in the boat. More than two rowers can go out without respecting the distance requirement EXCLUSIVELY if they are family members who are living together. Use of the mask is OBLIGATORY (worn in the correct manner, that is, covering the mouth and the nose) before and after rowing (one boards and descends from the boat with the mask on). Booking the time of going out and returning will be made EXCLUSIVELY on the WhatsApp group of the club, allowing 20 minutes between exit and return time in order to avoid meetings (overlapping, running into other people, however you want to put it) in the clubhouse. If on return you find that another boat is preparing to exit the club, wait at a distance till the other boat has departed. Seeing the situation, to guarantee the safety and health of all members, the Council of Directors will look at the recorded videos to ensure that all the members respect these rules. Anyone who goes out MUST, on return, wash the club’s boat and oars with water and bleach-based soap provided in the club.”
The Vogalonga — this year would have been the 46th — was scheduled, as always, a week after the Sensa — May 31, to be precise. It has never been canceled, even in the worst weather. A pandemic is clearly so much worse than weather. Besides, no one can travel, the hotels are closed, and just to review the basics: Gatherings of people are forbidden. If some 2000 boats in the water don’t constitute a gathering, then we need a new definition.
So the two big events that made May matter have been expunged and left only its husk ready to fall off the calendar just like March and April have already done. What an ignoble end to a once-princely month.
Happily, spring is proceeding with its usual nonchalance, bestowing any number of special gifts (do they still qualify as gifts if you count on getting them every year?). Blackbirds singing at dawn and at sunset, the limetrees just beginning to waft their delicate perfume along viale Garibaldi, the first magnolia on the tree next to General Emo Capodilista. The signs of the season haven’t failed us.
And we’re well underway with the artichokes (their moment is almost over), and fresh peas and asparagus. The fruit is in that awkward stage between winter and summer — we’re bored to death with apples and bananas, but the first cherries are expensive and flavorless, the apricots should be ashamed of pushing themselves forward so aggressively because they are definitely not ready yet, and some vendors are offering melons, for Lord’s sake. Everybody knows that melons were put on this earth to save your life in July and August; in May you might as well just sell photos of melons, the taste would be the same.
Fish, however, are having their moment. “Quando la rosa mette spin’, xe bon el go’ e el passarin.” When the rose puts out its thorns, the gobie and the flounder are good. Seppie belong in this category too, but it doesn’t rhyme.
Lino, who has fished all year long all his life, tells me this: “The go’ are always in the lagoon. The passarini lay their eggs in December and go out into the Adriatic; they come back in between March and April. The seppie begin to come into the lagoon in March. In May and June the gilthead bream, striped seabream and sea bass come in to lay their eggs….” I know things are proceeding according to plan because we have seen little swarms of fingerlings in the canal several times.
Roses are everywhere. Check.The go’ (Gobius ophiocephalus) are taking over the fish markets just now. Check. They’re excellent when fried (as are so many things…) but we always cook them for a classic Venetian risotto which literally nobody makes anymore. Do not believe the rare restaurant that claims to serve them – Lino hasn’t found one yet. Even I have detected impostors. These are so easy to prepare that I can’t imagine why anyone would want to fake it.The passarin (Platichthys flesus luscus) used to be abundant; Lino has slain and consumed what must have been tons of them. Fried, in saor, simmered (their broth makes a delectable risotto), this is just a wonderful fish. I’m showing a stock photo because they have virtually disappeared from the fish markets. I have heard that the gilthead bream muscled them out of the lagoon, and it’s true that the bream have become a fish-market standard by now.I have read that seppie are probably the most intelligent invertebrates. I respect that, even if they do look like Mr. Magoo.“Bovoleti,” or little snails, are making an early appearance. They’re always sold in the fish markets, even though they are obviously a land animal that is harvested in the fields. I say they’re premature because they will be bitter as long as the artichokes are still being sold. In June, their flavor improves.Let’s hope it’s a sign, and not just a meteorological cliche’.
