Wolf

One of the things I learned in Venice is this: "e" (pronounced almost as in WELL) and "o" (almost as in BOAT) are not letters, they are syllables of variable length. It is difficult to describe: it is a phonetical thing, something people yell, people on boats. What I mean to say is this: where else in the (European) world do people shout "EEEOOO" (which is what I hear/understand) when they come to a crossroad? Travelling on water is so much of an everyday-thing I simply forget about it when I think about the city. There are sidewalks for Venetian pedestrians and tourists. There are lots of little and big streets, stairs, steps and bridges, and people making an awful noise by dragging luggage on little plastic-weels over old stones. AND there are waterways, the Canale Grande, lots and lots of other canals: short, long, wide, but most of the time just big enough for one boat. Houses - and therefor the canals - are build in 90degree angles. You will never know what is comimg round the next corner. Hence the yelling. The watwerways are full with water-vehicles; there are the (public) water-busses ("vaporetto"), water-taxis (horribly expensive), tragetto (to cross the Canale), gondolas (98% tourists), all the uncountable motorboats to get from here to there (98% Venetians) and boats that carry rubble, boxes, barrels, fruit... (98% workmen). Since there are no cars and Venice has - in general - a police-hour, it is very quiet and peaceful during the night. When I can not sleep, I listen to the occasional "eeeeooo" (or whatever they yell), the bubbling sound of a motorboat and the gentle slapping of water against the walls.

All the other things I will tell you are more or less spectacular, but these little, ordinary things - which you do not get elsewhere in Europe - but are eveyday-life in Venice make it "my" city.

I have always wanted to go to Venice, but if I had not been invited, I might never have gone. Part of the fascination was the thought that Venice is - or was - a place where east and west (had) met. I had the idea that there would be people wearing a turban and long flowing gowns and at the same time man and women in suits and dresses, carrying briefcases.

The first time I was there, I was frightened to go out: I might get lost in the maze of small streets and dead-end lanes. So I stuck to San Marco and the embankments (Riva degli Schiavoni, Riva dei Sette Martiri...). I went to the "Giardini" and to the "Arsenale". I can not remeber how many times I sat there and stared at the lions wondering about their strange history. Seeing them made a picture out of a "Corto Maltese", an all time favourite, reallity. "Favola di Venezia" is the story I love most. It is dreamy and strange and, despite the violence it describes, almost soft. The story gives you a good idea about the city - in a way closer to what I feel about Venice than good travel-guide might do. I tried to get a glimpse of the inside of the Arsenale, i felt tempted by it's secretes - old and new. I imagined ships, big wooden, old ones and grey new ones. War loomed. I felt like a twelve-year old boy, with a world to discouver.

This is what Venice is to me: bustling , noisy, agressive and at the same time something I can not grasp, like a dream where you know you are dreaming but it seems so real you are not sure you are even asleep. Only with Venice it is the other way around.I know I am awake but I am not sure weather I might be dreaming at the same time.This feeling of beeing between realities is one of the fascinations of the city for me: wonder-ful and frightening at the same time. Sometimes I can see the influence of the Orient: how a window is built or a door and sometimes I feel I can smell it. It is THERE but I can not touch it or tell anyone why I feel it.

I loved the city from the start. After two days I felt dizzy- and still do, almost every time I am there. I thought that was so because the coffee was too strong (AAH- good, black, bitter eilixir), but people who lived in the city laughed. They said I could feel the city move with the sea. I love the sea. Since Venice is an island or rather several islands I was at home. I would sit somewhere, the Fondamente Nuove, and stare into the open, the moving sea and let go of everything.

Everybody tells me the Canale Grande stinks, which I have not smelled yet. I seem to be taking in a lot of other things through my nose though. I went to see the Palazzo Ducale. It seemed to reek of power, secrets, death, violence. I make up stories about it, my head is full of pictures. Again reality and dreams blend into on thing. I am happy.

I like the darker side of things, twilight-zones, dreams, half true stories, danger.Venice, for me, is full of these, of the intensity these things contain. Venice is intense, sensuous.

In Venice different centuries, levels of history overlap. It is not just that I find a modern building next ot an old church- in fact that is not often the case- but the different ages, and their stories, which make history, are visible or I sense them. Historically you can find that mix in a lot of places, buildings, churches. The church building is medieval (for example), the art inside 17th, 18th ( again: for example) century or a mix of various centuries. To discover the stories you have to look closer. The sensation that timeperiods overlap is beyond the obviouse. I do not have this feeling anywhere else. I can not truely decsribe it, but it is one of the reasons why I love the city and often miss beeing there. When I am in Venice ALL my senses are on "on" almost all the time.

Of course Venice is a modern city. It is a busy, hustling town. Some buildings are all glass and steel, so 20th century it hurts the eye. IF you come round the "right" corner or go out onto the water the right side of the island, you can see the industry, chimnies, itīs massiveness, waterpollution and all. Only it seems to be furhter away, than in other cities: on a different island or the terra firma.

I do not know how much poverty there is.I see people beg, they seem to come from other countries, but I do not know for sure.

Venice seems to be rich. Some of the price tags in some shops make me wonder. I follow the stream of other tourists from San Marco to Rialto. I stare at big chunks of chocolate in windows at "Pane di Pescatore". I love sweets, so this is the right pace for me. The chocolate is good, poiseness. The "pan" - well- a bit dry.

I love the city for itīs variety of people.There are some anarchists and/or vegan/vegetarin people, like in a lot of Europian cities. There is information- spraypainted - on a lot off walls: what people think about Berlusconi (and where he can stuff his politics), communism and "moto ondoso".

The gondoliere are on strike ( where else in the world can " a tourist-attraction" go on strike??!!). The number 1 vaporetto takes forever to get from Rialto to San Marco. A well dressed man, who has hitherto been reading his newspaper suddenly starts to yell at a gondoliere- who happily yells back. I have time, I enjoi the chaos. Venetians share water-taxis or are just late for work.

I get lost again in the streets and end up in front of the reonstructed La Fenice. Actually I have never seen it from the inside.Will I, one day? Iīd love to..

Last year I happened to be there during the carneval- season. Some of the costumes were inspiring. It amazed me that I saw a lot of the masks I had seen on photos. It was a pity that there seemed to be more tourists and people without costumes than people with. Still: I admired some of the big egos I saw, showing off by climbimg up onto whatever was higher than ground level and posing for the world (in general) and deeply impressed tourists (in special) who never stopped taking pictures. I just walked around and looked. I did get the idea that for some of the couples I saw, with flowing wigs, make-up and all, "gay" would not just translate into "happy", but something else too.

I love the light in the city, how it reflects on the water, which reflects on the walls. I love what it does to the colours, the red- brown of a palazzo. It does not just change with the time off the day, but seems to be different evey day too, no matter wheather it is a as sunny as yesterday. It changes my perception of a building, the city again and again. The light too is intense. There are so many variations of brightness. Even when the city is totally clouded over, close to a storm, there is a clearness that almost hurts the eyes.

Up on my friendīs balcony ( how do they DO this: building plattforms on bricks on more or less pointed roofs AND the things do not fall down??!!) I watch the sun, I count chuch-towers , whos bells never seem to be rining synchronously.

I spy at windows. Everybody seems so close. If I had to live there for longer than a few days or weeks that might get on my nerves.

Sometimes I think there are too many tourists. I want to be where everyday Venetian life is. I find a bar where I can pay for the coffee and the panino without becoming poor. There is one near the lions at the Arsenale, one on the embankments of Giudecca, one , full with students, near a canal in Accademia. I do not hear German or English. I relax.

And than there are the gondolas. I have not yet grasped their secret; their history, how they are built or rowed. They are not just boats, they are unique. Helping a friend clean a gondola I understand this: with a gondola, your gondola, you have a love- affair. Or just do not bother-. Some how the same seems to apply for the city. I have had the chance to experience the city on a gondola, going through the canals at different times of the day. I most enjoied the night-trips.Beeing on water calms me and the gondola has just the right speed to calm me even more. It is quiet, I can hear the occasional splash of the oar. I have learned that the gondolier can not hear me when (s)he rows, standing where he ought to. But when the sun sets or a while afterwards and I am out on the canals on a gondola, I do not want to talk too much anyway, just be and watch.Later I will walk through the city from San Toma to San Stae. ( There are many saints in the city ...)

I visit churches, lots of them. The art on the walls, the ceilings is thrillingly sensous. The angels are full oif muscle, life. Kain slaughtering Abel looks so real: Abel fights back, their is fear in his eyes.In another church the pictures are dark, with a depth that draws me in. Coming from a radical protestant family, where there were no ptictures of GOD (and no saints), no pictures of anything that had to with religion, the livliness of some of these pieces of art is impressive. In fact that there are so many pictures is overwhelming. I want to touch the folds of a dress, some medieval painting, it looks so real.

I visit the ghetto, sit in the square. Venice was the first city to have a ghetto. This place is special. Not so much because of old history but because of the recent history which shook Europe and changed the world. There is a kosher restaurant. I buy a "dreidl" for a friend- small, coulerful. I let it spin on the stones.

If I had to live in Venice I would probably go to Mestre ever so often. Mestre is 21st century, full force, solid ground. In Venice I am not so sure, part of the time.

Venice is falling apart, decaying. I find itīs morbidity appealing. Venice lets me know that nothing is forever. I make up a story with vampiers, get lost again in dreams, take a wrong turn and almost fall into a canal.

JANUARY 2006 M.SHEEN