“Merry Christmas” in pure gold leaf beaten by Marino Menegazzo, the last man in Europe who beat gold entirely by hand. Stefania Dei Rossi’s shop “Oro e Disegni” has plenty of beautiful golden things but the sentiment here is 24 karat.
Naturally I intended to get this out before Christmas, but Christmas itself tangled me up. (Pretty bold move to blame an entire holiday for my own lapses.) Still, I wanted to squeak this into the calendar before 2025 reaches its expiration date.
Just a few glimpses of what I saw as I wandered around. Seems like the holiday was composed mainly of scraps, but they were good scraps.
Heartfelt best wishes to everyone for a peaceful, healthy, safe, nutritionally balanced, philosophically harmonious 2026.
Rio di Sant’Anna looking toward via Garibaldi. The fog helps.Paolo Brandolisio’s forcola workshop has taken a frivolous twist. The forcola now looks like a duck but he gets extra points for making it work.Speaking of frivolity, I bet you’ll wish your house had a Nativity scene arranged inside a monster pasta shell. Someone at the Rizzo shop at San Giovanni Grisostomo deserves admiration and probably also a raise.The fish market at Rialto makes the most of its fishing traps at Christmas.Some bright spark at the Coop supermarket had some spare time, some spare paint and the real Christmas spirit.While we’re on the classic color scheme, let me offer this unidentifiable fruit in a decoction known as mostarda. Nobody cares what it looks like, what people (like me) love is the way its white-mustard-laced syrup is lying in wait to attack your mouth and throat and sinuses. The tiniest bite of this innocuous-looking candied fruit sets off a pyroclastic flow from your throat to your brain. They say it’s intended to aid digestion, but what happens on the way there is what matters. You have sinus trouble? Take a bite of this and you won’t have them to worry about anymore, they’ll be gone.And while we’re on the subject of digestion… These bags, which need no introduction, have been sold in Christmas colors. I have no idea who put these here (of course they’re not supposed to be left on the street), but whoever it may have been has a real sense of humor.I get my boxes of tissues at the Coop, and their Christmas version is very nice. But why did they only put this out on the shelves AFTER Christmas? Lino says they’re trying to clear out the holiday stuff and of course I get that. I just don’t understand why this holiday stuff was never seen before Christmas. So many questions…..One of the prettiest window sills ever. And the person who created this scene has more faith in humanity than, honestly, I ever will.At the Rialto market this sign on the door explained why the Osteria I Compari was closed.“Running off … Maria is born!!! Closed because of happiness.” Nothing to do with Christmas but everything to do with gladness of heart and I want everybody to bask in this.The Arsenale entrance — minimal but basically tells the whole story.Instead of leaves there are lights in front of Nevodi. I like it a lot.Via Garibaldi in holiday mode. Even the women’s bags are red and green. Fun fact: People in the center are walking on a filled-in canal — the edges of which are marked by the white strips along the sides.I don’t know which are lovelier — the lights inside or out. I’m going to say “inside,” but they do work well together.Last year there were lots of little angels fluttering above the creche in front of the church of San Francesco di Paola. This year there are flags. The story here pretty much tells itself.Until a few days ago the cakes in the window at Melita, Mario the pastry-maker’s shop, were about Christmas. All at once (and the countdown has begun) they’re all about New Year. “Buon Anno 2026.” Chocolate huts with chocolate chimneys are absolutely what this world needs more of.There is also a small but aggressive assortment of cakes that have abandoned the innocent greeting in favor of apocalyptic Lord-of-the-Rings shards of Theobroma cacao. Not sure if you’re supposed to eat it or vanquish it.The moon didn’t want to set that morning in early December. It hung on till nearly 8:00, then the clouds crept over it and ordered it to go shine on someone else.
The table is set up at this corner because the children turn right here to get to the elementary school.
Yesterday, Sept. 16, was the first day of school. Nobody was happy, of course, even though the Veneto, along with Puglia, was the region that started school the latest (Alto Adige began on Sept. 7, but they have German DNA).
I’ve never investigated the reasons why the whole country doesn’t start school on the same day, and starting on a Wednesday seems odd, or at least asymmetrical, to me. Then again, some of the post offices in Venice open at 8:15, and some open at 8:25. Anyone for 8:00? Certainly not. To each his own symmetry, I guess.
This little sprite was in another neighborhood, heading off for her excellent adventure complete with backpack, mother, and grandmother.
This year, as in the past few, the neighborhood old people’s group (literal translation of “gruppoanziani“) organized a wonderful send-off to the littlest scholars to launch them into their first real day of school ever (they will already have had nursery school, but this time it’s serious). We didn’t stay to watch because we had to be somewhere else, but I have no doubt that, as before, each child was given a bag of presents — school supplies could qualify, as long as they’ve got that new-car smell — and given a heartfelt exhortation, and a warm round of applause.
But what was new this year was the sign they put up on the backdrop, the wall of the church of San Francesco di Paola. We discovered it toward evening, and this morning it was gone. I’d like to think that the wall will retain the warmth of the poster for quite a while yet.
“Viva’ is short for “Evviva,” which is a cry of joy and acclaim. I always think of it as “Long live” the whatever-comes-next. It is sometimes abbreviated to a big “W” (two V’s, naturally).“Long live school, Long live culture, Long live all the children in the world.”
Once again, May has come to an end (you needed me to tell you that) and we closed the 31st in the usual way, by joining the annual procession which accompanies the statue of the Madonna and Jesus from the church of San Pietro di Castello to her home base in the church of San Francesco di Paola. Even though, technically speaking, the feast of Maria Ausiliatrice is May 24, here it’s on May 31.
One small improvement in the modest lineup of boats that usually forms her escort was that Lino suggested we row a caorlina, which is noticeably bigger than the modest little mascareta we usually use. In this way, we could set up folding chairs in the boat and carry people who might have wanted to participate by floating rather than by walking.
Weather good. Crowd large and earnest. Not as many people watching from the windows as there have been in some years, but perhaps there were more on the ground.
The loudspeaker wasn’t too capricious (a plus), but for some reason the priest chose a couple of everyday hymns as part of the event, completely ignoring the hymn associated specifically with this festival (a very large minus). This is one tradition which has absolutely no need of being re-fangled.
I’m going to have to complain to the management. Just as soon as she’s back on her pedestal.
On the evening of May 24, the statue was borne from the church of San Francesco di Paola to the church of San Pietro di Castello. The entire parish followed along, everyone reciting the prayers. A stroll after dinner is always a good thing, especially one like this.
Around 9:00 PM on May 31, the statue was brought out of the church, followed by her retinue of assorted parishioners and acolytes. The corteo begins, backed by a stretch of Arsenal wall.
One of the few boats forming the procession carried several generations of the family. Always good to have a youngster at the bow, on the lookout for -- I don't know -- police boats. Seppie. Anything.They look more pensive than absolutely necessary. I wonder if they were sorry they came aboard.
The cortege makes its first turn.Moving the Madonna under the bridges was slightly challenging.
Turning past the Arsenal.
By the time we reach the end, it's almost night. This is just one of the evening's many beautiful elements.
