Viva San Marco!

What an innocent I am. I knew full well that yesterday, April 25th, was not only a national holiday (Liberation Day) but also a local one (St. Mark’s day). I also knew that there were several festivities planned, including “Un ombra di vin soto el campanil” from 11-1 and a regata or two. It never occurred to me that, with all this going on, the library might be closed. Since, for better or worse, the Marciana is located smack in the middle of the universe, I too was smack in the middle of the universe when I discovered the library door locked up tight.

25 aprile 2008

For better viewing, go directly to the slide show.

up and down the bridges

I walked in “Su e Zo per i Ponti” (Up and Down the Bridges) today with the group Quarantenni per Venezia. It’s a measure of my devotion to things local that I did not run screaming from this people-packed event. The calli and ponti were just crammed. We came to a standstill quite a bit. But it’s good fun to walk the city in a deliberate way with a bunch of Venetians. And — because my wagon is hitched to a star — I got to enjoy “winning” the prize for the group with the largest number of registrants. So, 40xVenezia won a large trophy cup and an extraordinary porcelain rendering of the giganti. (Of the latter, here are thumbnails of the  porcelain and the original, for comparison.)

The highlight of the morning for me (if I may betray my geekiness) was when one of the organizers of our group handed me her digital SLR to take photos of the award presentation. I am now obsessed with the idea of getting a real digital camera — a serious one. Completely inappropriate obsession at this juncture, but there you are. This too shall pass. Since I handed the camera back eventually, I haven’t seen the photos. In other words, I can’t even verify that they are brilliant, that the proper tool unlocks my real photographic potential. These images taken with a serviceable little macchina will have to suffice.

The full slide show is here:

Su e Zo

visitors from home

I’m thoroughly enjoying having Amy and John here for a week.  They’ve got an apartment close to Campo Santa Margherita, very convenient to groceries and hip places to spritz.  The weather is not cooperating — high forties and rainy.  I’m a little righteously indignant that the sun is scheduled to come out only on the day they leave.  We’re having a ball, nonetheless.

the package is in the building

As I may have mentioned on this blog, and as I have certainly regailed some of you at length, I’ve been awaiting a package that arrived on Italian soil on December 5th. Today — Wednesday, February 20th — is the day it arrived. This success is due entirely to the dogged labor of mamma G, who worked right up to the last stages of this odyssey to get the package into my hands.

The shipment contains medication, you see. (Cleverly described as “health aid” by the pharmacy on the bill of lading.) This required a whole set of papers to be filled out and faxed. Then refaxed when, a month later, come to find out that the fax machine had been broken and the paperwork never arrived. Then the customs medical inspector decided — contrary to all the requirements indicated on said paperwork — that I needed a letter from an Italian doctor. Thank goodness pappa G is an MD. The letter was faxed and mailed. Then re-faxed when it mysteriously wasn’t received again. Then: no news, no news, for a couple more weeks. Family friends in another customs office were called, inquiries made, irate phone calls of various sorts placed…. All this by Beata Mamma G, who, like a bloodhound, tracked down the package which had ended up in Marghera. Stranded there for ten days because (get this) the address read “Via San Marco” rather than “Sestiere San Marco.” Setting aside what a crock that would be (you’re telling me no one in the history of Italian post has addressed something to a “via” in Venice?), now that the package is in hand, I can attest that it doesn’t say that. Perhaps they were having trouble because the carbon copy of the original USPS address form is fading from prolonged overexposure.

I was a little worried that a quirk in the original prescription would leave me with less than the three-month supply I was supposed to receive, but I’m happy to report that that is not true. Shawn 1, The Man 15.

Here’s the blessed package:

And the holy grail itself:

I must also assume that mamma G shamed them into revoking whatever duties they planned on imposing, since at the bottom of the palimpsest of paperwork on one side is a big sticker reading “ONERI DOGANALI.”

In other postal news: I just learned that the Christmas package and birthday card sent to me by Aunt Connie have arrived back on her doorstep. I had assumed the former had been taken home by a postal worker long ago. If it made it into the country, I certainly never heard about it.

OK, basta cosi’. Enough. Italian postal woes are old news.

Treviso, continued

I’m figuring out Treviso. Bought myself a guidebook and keep my map in hand. Somehow it seems more acceptable to walk around with a map in hand there than it does in Venice. Or maybe I’m just getting more comfortable with preemptively outing myself as a foreigner.

The Biblioteca Comunale has a charming little Sala Manoscritti — wood-paneled (i.e. high, elaborately-carved  wainscotting with benches) above which are silk-clad walls running up to the 30-foot ceiling. The librarian is charming, too — quiet, courtly, and wry.  I can no longer remember his name and, in fact, messed it up the moment he told me — but he kindly offered to write it down for me.  Despite my inability to remember his name, he offered to show me around the closed sections of the library.

Because the library is so small, there are no limits to requests and they allow (well, he allows) do-it-yourself photography.  The only downside to this small-town atmosphere is the schedule: the manuscript room is open 9:30-6:00, with a lunch break from 1:00-2:30. I usually spend that long lunch uploading and cataloging my photographs, but occasionally I take an exploratory walk. That’s how I’m figuring out this maze-y little town. I would take advantage of the time and the terra firma prices to get some shopping done, but everything is closed for lunch.

Over lunch on Thursday, I was blazing a new path for myself when I heard a tapping on a car window… tapping obviously aimed at me. To my great surprise it was Emmanuela — my Trevisan friend and fellow UofC doctoral student. I’d been thinking about her a lot and had only that morning solemnly sworn to myself to email her that evening. For her part, she was on her way from the airport, having just arrived from Chicago. What are the odds?

where am I?

We’re having a glorious spate of sunny days, and the city is suddenly different.  It’s not just that I’ve spent most of the last month at home (there, I’ve said it).  There’s a slate-gray flatness to Venetian winter.  Sunshine is to this city as varnish is to fine wood.  It brings out the texture, the depth, the grain, the color.  Animates it.  Gives it life.

Preparations for carnevale are also underway.  I knew this, of course.  Confetti has dotted the sidewalks more and more since New Years — like crocus heralding spring.  The passarelle for aqua alta are disappearing.  And the mask-shop saturation has cranked up a notch.  But I didn’t anticipate market stands (?) in Campo S. Stefano.  And, frankly, I’m a little alarmed that there’s a crepe stand in the little campo on our side of the Accademia bridge.  Somehow that crosses an invisible, psychological line for me.  This is liable to be more crowded and literally carnival-like than I anticipated.

performing at a scuola grande

Thanks to my sight-singing abilities and the great hospitality of my new Venetian friends, I’ve been invited to sing with two wonderful local choirs. One of these, the Complesso Vocale “Antonio Lotti” just happened — just happened — to be working on a 16c program, which we performed yesterday (20 Jan) at the Scuola Grande San Teodoro. Here’s the program:

• Arcadelt, Il bianco e dolce cigno
• Rore, Ancor che col partire
• Donato, Chi la gagliarda
• Lasso, Matona, mia cara
• Banchieri, excerpts from Festino nella sera del giovedi grasso avanti cena

Wow! What a treat! They’re such a jovial bunch of people, and it’s so great to sing this music with them!

This concert was my fourth since arriving here. The first three were with two permutations of a women’s choir formed from voice students at the Scuola di Musica “Giuseppe Verdi.” The big Christmas concert was held in Santa Maria Formosa. The two smaller concerts were held at the Waldensian hostel here in town (which is in a large, old palazzo at the end of the Calle Lunga S Maria Formosa) and, of all places, a small parish church in Ca’ Savio (a small resort town by the Adriatic…deserted in winter). Rehearsals were held in the parish building of S. Maria Formosa and in an old convent, now high school in Cannareggio. The Lotti choir meets in the parish building of S. Maria dell’Orto — which means I get to the other side of town at least twice a week.

I said I’m in two local choirs. The other is Coro Murianum (or some such…I’ve never seen it written). Most of the members are from Murano or Burano, but rehearsals are right in my back yard (at the parish meeting room for S. Salvator). Severe illness in the family of the director has kept this choir in limbo for much of the last two months, but they have a great repertoire of more modern fare (Bruckner, Poulenc, and even composers who are still with us). There are a couple of other women who go from the Lotti rehearsal on Thursday directly to the Murianum rehearsal — so I’m hooked up with some of the city’s hard-core choristers. There is a LOT of dialect used in rehearsals, so they are fantastic practice for me.

Happy New Year, by the way. Will see if I can’t post a little more often.

new digs and Goldoni

The big news is that I’ve moved. While there were many plusses to the living situation I arranged over the summer, the minuses won out in the end. Physically, the new place is not so far distant from the old one (am now right behind La Fenice, the opera house), but in every other sense, I am light years away. Will miss the adorable baby and tiny doggie, but otherwise: whew. An enormous kitty — Nando — visits here on a daily basis, traipsing to the kitchen window via adjacent roofs, so my pet fix is covered.

Two nights ago I lucked into tickets to Teatro Goldoni. With another dottoranda I met at the Marciana, I saw Goldoni’s La famiglia del Antiquario (The Antiquarian’s Family). What a treat to actually see a play by Goldoni, about whom I’ve read so much. Even better, I was given the tickets by subscribers who have fabulous, second row seats. I can’t remember the last time I could actually see performers’ faces. And “go me” — I understood the whole show. Not 100%, but still… I’m pretty pleased.

join the club

As a congenitally shy person, I’m finding this expanding network of friendly connections fascinating. On Tuesday, at the gathering that G’s mom invited me to, a woman who makes documentary films invited me to a screening that took place tonight. The music of Olga Neuwirth plays a large part in this short documentary (Impossible Venice), so she was quite excited to hear the opinion of a musician. (That was flattering. I resisted the temptation to really share…in English…the full extent of my rich, complex take on her wonderful film. Did my best with the Italian I have. Go me!)

Turns out this screening was hosted by the Compagnia de Calza «I Antichi» – Venezia. I didn’t know there was a revival of the compagnie della calza (which started in the 15th century). The modern incarnation has weekly meetings which center around poetry readings, visiting speakers (scholars, journalists, etc.), themed dinners, and local festivities (like San Martino). It’s very, very local, and very, very culturally and historically keyed. So I joined. They’re having a reading of Manzoni this month. Can Leonardo Giustinian be far behind? (Hint, hint.)

one long-planned event and two surprises

Tuesday I heard the Consulate General of Belgium speak about his country at a gathering of the Associazione Europa Amica di Venezia (a group that promotes cultural understanding among EU member states). The wonderful Mamma G invited me some time ago to come to these talks, and I’m so thrilled. I was probably the only non-Venetian in the room, save the Honorable speaker himself, oh and one lady from Bassano del Grappa. It was a very convivial group of about thirty people — including a documentary filmmaker (who invited me to a screening this Friday) and an architectural engineer (who offered me a photocopy of the original elevation of the Palazzo Pisani, now the Conservatory, which he helped to restructure recently). They also had a classic Venetian spread for the reception, complete with prosecco, thank-you-ma’am. What a treat to be invited into this large circle of friendly and interesting people!

I’d been looking forward to that for a long time. Meanwhile, on Sunday, I got another invitation to go with my friend N. to a book talk on Monday at the Ateneo Veneto – a discussion of Daria Perocco’s recent edition of Poesie per regate (poems for regattas, Venetian texts from the 16th to the 19th century) . Really interesting talk, and an unforeseen opportunity to encounter some of Venice’s literary scholars. I had a nice little chat with Prof. Perocco… and delivered Stella’s greetings.

Then today by pure luck, on the way home from the library, I saw a poster for a seminar this week at the Levi Foundation: La nascita della storiografia musicale in Europa nel XIX secolo: gli orientamenti nazionali (the birth of musical historiography in Europe in the 19th century: the national orientations). The idea of coming across a poster for so esoteric a musicological meeting is strange enough — outside the confines of, say, a large research-oriented university in Chicago. But this was one huge poster. No, two: one right next to the other. Posted, moreover, in a tiny, back-alley sottoportego (underpass) hidden between Piazza San Marco and the Fenice. I just happened to pass that way as I experimented with a new long-cut home (to skirt foot traffic). “Did I really just see ’storiografia musicale’ out of the corner of my eye?” Yep. And the Fondazione Levi is two minutes from my house. Cool.