Sometimes, when I'm in a terrible mood, I write love letters: not the typical declaration of love for a silly boy.
I have done that maybe a couple of times with disastrous results (something in the message must have been interpreted like "ÿou're an ass and that's why we get along so well"). Digressing...
So, I write love letters to things I am sort of infatuated with.
Soon I'll be traveling home and home means the country facing (or offending) Venice.
We could debate here if Venice is a man or a woman, but I believe this is in the hand of the lover and not in the essence of the city itself.
Anyway, I will try to spend some good time on the island and I am very excited about that.
Whenever I mention to Berliners about Venice I am asked whether I know if Berlin has more bridges than Venice...
I smile.
Venice is small. Nonetheless there are so many things to wonder that it becomes immense, in an imploding way.
Palazzo Zenobio
I studied in Venice and I was working there shortly after graduation, so I know how to move around, but it was a process. Does it take longer if you walk your way through the calli to get to a point, if you take the boat, or if you cross a bridge?
You need some practice and nothing is so obvious.
Since I moved to Berlin and I only visit twice or three times a year, I also had to cope with lots of the problems that any first time tourist has: where to eat, where to stop, what museum to visit, join the crowd (almost never an option) or go off the beaten path?In other words: how do I enjoy my time in a place that's so packed with stuff to see without losing my mind, spending too much money and (because I have kids) use space and energy in the most efficient way to avoid the total meltdown.
Not a public sleeping place, but an art installation
I take my time. But I walk fast. Because, honestly, is there a bigger affront to a Venetian than to walk slow?
It's not only a waste of time, it's suicidal like throwing yourself on the tracks just when a rush hour train is passing, it makes the crowds grow and get nervous ("Camoma" is a nice Venetian word to describe a slow walk or attitude and yelling "Move on with the Christ else the procession gets crowdy" is very common, if a bit blasphemous...)
I walk where I know I don't have to deal with too many tourists. Don't get me wrong, I love tourists: they always ask me for information. Just, I like quiet places and this is where you can find me.
I like visiting the oldest European ghetto (ghetto is a Venetian word) or the campi where tourists don't make it, physically and psychologically. You can't just do everything and see everything, even in such a small city.
Fountain at Campo del Ghetto Nuovo
For this time I'll be happy if we can make it to the 54th Art Biennale, the art exhibition everybody is talking about right now. Back in 2008 my daughter and I visited; I was pregnant, so this was especially tiring for me and my three year old. The pavilions which host the international art works are situated at the Gardens and at the Arsenal (which is the end of the world).
The Arsenal
Of course I decided to take the Vaporetto; but I had a stroller which made things only more complicated, especially on our way back, when Carlotta fell asleep in it while we were in the cabin and there where steps to do and people to hurt.
With time I have learned that the most important things are: take it easy, have very comfortable shoes, find a nice campo to drink water from the fountain - yes it's drinkable - eat some ice-cream on the bench, get very detailed information about the three or four must see museums and churches and let anything else come as a surprise. Every corner has something to offer.
Consider mastering the four basic directions and move through calli and campi with this is mind: the borders are always near, you are surrounded by water so you can't escape; you might not find a place immediately, but you'll find it eventually.
Note: the streets in Venice have special names. Calli are narrow streets, campi are the squares.
