rain and sun and song

We’ve had some terrific rain and thunder storms in the last few days. It’s made for much cooler temperatures as well as some pretty dramatic visual effects, most of which cannot be captured on film (at least by me).

I’ve have been making a concerted effort to set aside my debilitating politeness and take photographs of people. If I can’t do it here, where every other person is armed with a camera (meaning I don’t really stand out), then I can’t do it anywhere. I’ve started to experiment a little with shooting from the hip — taking shots without looking through the viewfinder (a trick of street photography I just read about). Of the dozens of nonchalant clicks I took this way, just two or three are interesting. I’ve included those in the slideshow posted below. They’re the random, off-kilter ones. There are a couple in this batch that I’m very proud of, and I’m getting just conceited enough to think that I shouldn’t be publishing these without some sort of copyright watermark. On the other hand, I think I may have taken just about enough photos of soft light filtering through church windows onto pink-and-white checkerboard floors. That and cool shadows. They’re so damn beautiful every time, though!

Not pictured are the fabulous singers of via Garibaldi I met and sang with today. I finally happened down that way when the guitarist/ singer/ restauranteur (whose name I now forget, of course) was singing, and an entire table of buddies was joining in. I stopped to listen. Then I sat down and ordered a glass of wine.

The Singer had me pegged: he wagered that I was a singer, and why don’t I join them at their table and sing with them. Once again, my familiarity with “El famegia del gobbon” came in handy. I met everyone by name. The famous Umberto — passionate and nearly toothless — serenaded me. I was offered a glass of good red (and discovered later that my first glass of white was also already taken care of). Lunchtime was over and these guys had to get back to work, but not before coffee across the way, to which I was invited. They were wonderful people and perfect gentlemen and are apparently there for lunch (and song) every day. Oh, and I ran into Gabriele, the formaggio specialist, a few minutes later as he opened his shop. After trying several cheeses I wanted to buy a little something — a gesture of goodwill. “You can pay for it next time.” It’s a long trek to via Garibaldi, but so worth it. And now I have several reasons to go back again soon. Maybe next time I’ll ask if I can take some pictures.

2008 agosto — ferragosto

For better viewing, go directly to the slideshow.

boats, part one

Between starting to row (alla veneta, y’all) and living on the Giudecca, I’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time on boats. When people ask if I like living on there, my biggest complaint is that I feel detached…to which at least one of my friends has helpfully pointed out that I am.

Since my rowing club and my buddies are all in Cannaregio, I’m getting to know all the vaporetto routes that connect that far flung corner of the city with my own.The 41/42 is a direct shot, but stops running after 8pm. The 51/52 means a traghetto ride from Palanca (my stop) to Zattere or vice versa. The 2 takes the long route around the west edge of the city, as does the N (night) route. The first two are low-slung, sleek boats built for speed — they circle the city and are more no-nonsense than the big sluggish vaps that cater to the tourist trade. The latter have their charm, when the tourist tide is low; it can be wonderful to score a seat near the prow.

The 2 arrives at Palanca

The 51 seen from the 42

Enter the Night route. At first I dreaded this ride home. It doesn’t really save any time — it’ll take 45 minutes by foot (to the Zattere) or on board all the way — but if I’m tired, a ride is a welcome alternative. Depending on the weather and day of the week and time, the N can be jammed when I pick it up at S. Marcuola. Workers headed home, locals finishing an evening out, tourists straggling home. A few get off at the station, but most pile off at Piazzale Roma where they catch a bus for the terra firma. The vap now has very few passengers, and we start the slow rounding of the west end of the city. Past the Questura office. Under viaducts that carry car and train traffic to this part of town. Past dozens and dozens of moored topi – the big, prosaic boats that move everything around the city. Past the industrial-looking Mercato Ittico (fish market) and Capitaneria di Porto. The water path we’re following, as always, is marked with large bricole (three posts driven into the soil below) with a light on top. We are rounding the enormous dock where the cruise ships moor, and as we make the left hand turn those behemoths hove into view and shimmer in their obscene, over-the-top lighting. At Tronchetto, the very few who had parked their cars here for the day (Italian and German tourists mostly) get off, one or two get on (where are they coming from? who are they?), and we set off for the lagoon and the Giudecca canal. There are five blinding lights on the left that are part of the cruise ship area. They seem to be aimed horizontally rather than towards the ground. They stand out because everything else in front of us is a calm, black void.

This part of the journey is magic. Across the black void, there are tracers of lights — streetlights on the Lido or Malamocco, the breakwater islands of the lagoon. The sky is full of stars, if it’s clear, and if the moon is out it shimmers along the clouds and the waves. There is very little traffic. A water taxi or two, racing by, or a police boat, blue light shouting its warning and making psychodelic patterns on the boat’s wake.

Our boat is big. They always use the big tourist vaps for the N: there’s plenty of standing room in the middle and there are usually outdoor seats at the prow and stern. If I can, I get the very front seat, and usually I’m the only one sitting there. The wake of the passing taxis rolls towards us, and the pilot turns into the wake, sending our big boat bobbing. The water crashes and sprays on the prow.

This same effect happens on the ride from the Zattere to Palanca, that is across the Giudecca Canal. This waterway is one of the city’s busiest, and it is a battered by moto ondoso – waves caused by motor boats. In the vap, at night, after everyone has boarded, the mariner unties the rope from its mooring and shuts the big gate. Then the pilot turns off the outdoor lights. If, like me, you’ve gotten on board and crossed right to the other side of the boat where you’ll get off in a few minutes, you’re poised on the edge, with the wind and moon in your face. The lights go off, and it’s a perfect miniature of the transit on the N from Tronchetto in the middle of the night.

vaporetto

Or go directly to the slideshow.

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.

spring… e la nostra brutta notizia

It was an astonishingly beautiful weekend. Warm, sunny, sweet, calm. Also sad: a choir member died suddenly this week, and we sang at a funeral mass in her honor Saturday morning at the Ospedaletto. She was young (50s), and it was unexpected. How well-loved she was. Dozens of middle-schoolers — her students — were there, each with a gerbera daisy for her. And her poor elderly mother, come from Friuli to bring her youngest home. The weekend just ached with beauty and tragedy.

Having written that, and felt the lump creep back in my throat, I feel a little flippant posting snapshots. Life goes on, I suppose, and I promised someone I’d post these, so here they are. Taken this morning around 9am.

spring

For better viewing, go directly to the slide show.

Caution Venice Ahead

Caution Venice Ahead

Check out Gio’s website.  Cool stuff.

Could living in Venice build brain cells and boost longevity?

Recently I heard an NPR story on Reversible Destiny Lofts – living spaces designed by Arakawa and Gins that challenge rather than coddle occupants — and was struck by the resemblance of this post-post-modern concept to the Venetian experience. “These places have bold colors, concave floors, doors too short to walk through and columns to hold on to when you lose your balance,” according to NPR’s Alison Bryce. A fuller gloss, offered by we-make-money-not-art.com, describes the lofts this way:

 

Inside the apartments…the floor of the dining room slopes erratically, the one in the kitchen is sunken and the study features a concave floor. Electric switches are located in unexpected places so you have to feel around for the right one. A glass door to the veranda is so small you have to bend to crawl out. You constantly lose balance, gather yourself up, and occasionally trip and fall. There’s no closet space; residents will have to find a way to live there. “[The apartment] makes you alert and awakens instincts, so you’ll live better, longer and even forever,” says Arakawa. (http://www.we-make-money-not-art.com/archives/008304.php)

They might consider periodically flooding certain parts of the living space, as well… perhaps the common areas.

news of the season, skill building, etc.

I’ve been working on expanding my mental map of this part of town, and spent several hours last night and this afternoon working quasi-systematically through all the wee calli that are off my own beaten tracks between Campo S. Stefano and Piazza S. Marco. I’m finding wonderful short-cuts and some nice views, too. This is a long weekend (for All Saints Day), so visitors have descended on the city in what feels like random fashion. My barista tells me it’s the last hurrah of The Season. That makes this weekend a good time to either stay home or go off the beaten track. I’m not much interested in doing the former lately, so the latter it is!

Apropos the season…. Without fall colors on the precious few trees and without the Halloween/Thanksgiving discourse I’m used to, this doesn’t feel much like November. Plus there are still mosquitos in my room. I killed what I thought must be the last one a few minutes ago, and just now another one flew by my face.  Bloodsucking bastards.

News from the library: After a week of flailing around and not finding much of interest — *pointed, relevant* interest — I finally saw a manuscript today that actually looks very useful and is quite large. Finally, something to put on the definitely-look-at-this-closely-later list. So far, I’ve spent most of my time trying to squeeze the little bit of interesting material I’ve found in each item, since there hasn’t been much to justify coming back to it later. This find also signals the fact that I’m beginning to understand how to select materials to consult. The accumulation of small lessons learned is starting to add up to something.

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.)

first marca da bollo and amazing fish

Not necessarily in that order.

Caught up yesterday with another expat, who I’d actually met before and who is giving me the lowdown on choir options here in town. After a long afternoon of spritz at Al Timon — which was seriously hopping, since it’s one of the only places open on a Sunday — we (N and her fella and I) went to fella’s friend’s restaurant and had an incredible meal. I had the ‘orologio’ — a trip around the plate in small morsels of fabulous raw fish (sort of like Italian sushi, but without the rice and with more balsamic vinegar). Plus a perfect pinot noir and a risotto you could just curl up and snuggle with (involving some type of fish and radicchio da Treviso and something green). Already stuffed after many ciccheti and spritz and a clock’s worth of fish, I gave in and shared the marvelously intense chocolate dessert — paired with one of the rare wines that goes with chocolate. (Ask me later….)

On the way home I helped an older American man find his way back to Piazza San Marco — and was rewarded with yet another spritz and a handful of roses. Yes, the roses those sellers hawk to every couple south of the alps (maybe north, too). The prices are exorbitant! When I protested, the seller just crammed more roses into my hand. Clearly, at midnight, he was trying to dump his merchandise. Anyhow, it was an odd and touching end to a great day.

This morning I bought my first marca da bollo (basically a stamp, but not for postage) at the tobacconist and got my four passport photos, meaning I am ready to submit my permesso di soggiorno application. Woohoo!

Another first: I made an explicit effort to get over my photography phobia today and walked around, camera in hand, taking photographs not just of things but of people. There, I said it. Did most of this in Piazza San Marco, where everyone is photographing everyone and everything else, so it’s a good place to start. Once my internet situation is smoothed over (oh so soon), I’ll post some self-indulgent photos to go with the self-indulgent prose.

As I write this, the sun has just set, the bells of S Stefano have finished ringing, and the voices from the campo are settling to a low murmur. Clanking of dishes, the low hum of a hundred dinner conversations, voices of children playing, the occasional barking dog, all punctuated by high, melodious ‘ciaoooo’ s — which always come at least in pairs.

Lovena, the most beautiful bookshop in the world, etc.

I’m feeling a bit better — sleeping 20 hours a day can do wonders, as can having a perfect capp and a tramezzino.

I can report that Massimo works in the afternoons at Lovena, so I’ll go back in a bit to pass along the saluti of a certain venessiana. For those who don’t know, Lovena is a coffeeshop in Piazza S Marco. I went there around 10:20 this morning, contemplating going to mass at 10:30 (when the Cappella Marciana sings). Thought better of it…frankly I still felt a bit dizzy and weak…so I set out to get some cash and some food.

Browsed a bit in ‘The most beautiful bookshop in the world’ — which now has an old gondola right in the middle of the shop and a brand new litter of kittens in the back. Saw a brand new (March 07) Venetian-English dictionary (C, did you tell me about this already?). No, I can’t remember the author’s name.

Then to campo zanipolo for a tramezzino and a chat with the barista. He told me that the refreshing-looking drink was Campari and ice ’shakerato’ (shaken), so… much stronger than it looked, and impressively strong for 11am. Ah Venice.

On the way home I had the good fortune of running into Gio’s parents. They are such sweethearts, and seeing them let me have my own ‘Ciao!’ and kisses, just like everyone else in town. (Everyone else not toting a camera and a map, that is.)