It's enough just to know that Venice exists...
The other day I took a trip down memory lane looking at my .jpgs and trying to decide on a Profile pic.
In January, 2001, I took my first trip to Europe. I was in my early 40's (you do the math!). It was primarily to see Andrea Bocelli starring in an opera in Verona and then a train ride north to Munich to see him in Verdi's "Requiem." I ended up spending nearly 2 weeks in Verona. During this time, my friends and I took a day trip by train to see Venice. Much to mine and my other friend's benefit, one of my two companions was European and knew her way around the place.
I had heard of Venice. I knew there were canals. I didn't know I was in for the surprise of my life that cold, sometimes foggy winter day. In a very short walking distance from the train station the beauty, architecture and pure enigmatic existence of Venice swallowed my heart, captured my soul and made me want to never leave.
There are no cars. It is a silent place of meandering alleys, piazzas, bridges, small canals, large canals, gardens on rooftops, laundry drying outside windows like temporary art.
Stepping out of a pathway/alleyway which looked like so many others and coming suddenly, unexpectedly upon St. Mark's Cathedral and the massive piazza seemed a near delusional experience. The beauty and incongruity of it all was overwhelming. The pigeons. The tower. The winged-lion. That space! That huge space! The piazza's brickwork creates an optical illusion of immensity, making what is large, seem larger. The sky becomes a player in the scene. The cathedral's shining golden, mosaic arches and colored marble columns are stunning. This place is an example of mankind's creativity and necessity married and risen to the highest level of beauty and function. Nothing is done without art and beauty being an integral part of the whole.
Meandering pathways line the major canals creating an openness that is so different from getting wonderfully lost amongst the smaller canals and paths where site is restricted. Wide stairways, (almost puzzingly so, till you encounter a crowd) slowly rise and fall, hiding underneath their role as a bridge along the larger canals.
The Rialto is the queen of all the bridges. Gracefully arching over the Grand Canal, it serves as a pathway and a shopping mall to tiny shops many full of colorful Murano glass.
My friends and I ended up buying some life-like, red glass murano cherries on this trip to give to Bocelli after opening night of the opera. The opera was L'Amico Fritz, and it had an aria called, "the cherry duet." I have a couple of these sparkling cherries here at home. They are the best tourista 'trinkets' I have ever bought. And they made such a perfect gift for Andrea at the time.
A little over a year later, I made a return trip to Venice, like a pinch to convince myself I was not dreaming the first time; this time staying a few days. My niece and I stayed in the Rialto Hotel, which as it sounds is next to the regal Rialto bridge. So, I had the dreamy experience of gazing out of the ancient shuttered window from my perch above the Grand Canal and watch night take over this magical place and not have to leave, like my first visit. The dark waters reflecting the many colorful lights strung by restaurants and the glaze of light reflecting from the old, tall lanterns made for a timeless feel, like it could have been a night a hundred years ago with very little change. Our room's walls were lined with a pastel pink silk-like material the furniture painted ivory with 'real' venetian florid designs. The Rialto outside my doorstep, nothing could be more "less" like where I live here in Juneau, but it felt like a coming home.
With pathetic zeal, I have now decorated my bedroom with gondolas! Pictures with them. Ceramic ones! Metal ones! Glass ones! Also, paintings with scenes of Venice, Murano glass cherries, pictures of the Rialto. All because I am homesick.
In January, 2001, I took my first trip to Europe. I was in my early 40's (you do the math!). It was primarily to see Andrea Bocelli starring in an opera in Verona and then a train ride north to Munich to see him in Verdi's "Requiem." I ended up spending nearly 2 weeks in Verona. During this time, my friends and I took a day trip by train to see Venice. Much to mine and my other friend's benefit, one of my two companions was European and knew her way around the place.
I had heard of Venice. I knew there were canals. I didn't know I was in for the surprise of my life that cold, sometimes foggy winter day. In a very short walking distance from the train station the beauty, architecture and pure enigmatic existence of Venice swallowed my heart, captured my soul and made me want to never leave.
There are no cars. It is a silent place of meandering alleys, piazzas, bridges, small canals, large canals, gardens on rooftops, laundry drying outside windows like temporary art.
Stepping out of a pathway/alleyway which looked like so many others and coming suddenly, unexpectedly upon St. Mark's Cathedral and the massive piazza seemed a near delusional experience. The beauty and incongruity of it all was overwhelming. The pigeons. The tower. The winged-lion. That space! That huge space! The piazza's brickwork creates an optical illusion of immensity, making what is large, seem larger. The sky becomes a player in the scene. The cathedral's shining golden, mosaic arches and colored marble columns are stunning. This place is an example of mankind's creativity and necessity married and risen to the highest level of beauty and function. Nothing is done without art and beauty being an integral part of the whole.
Meandering pathways line the major canals creating an openness that is so different from getting wonderfully lost amongst the smaller canals and paths where site is restricted. Wide stairways, (almost puzzingly so, till you encounter a crowd) slowly rise and fall, hiding underneath their role as a bridge along the larger canals.
The Rialto is the queen of all the bridges. Gracefully arching over the Grand Canal, it serves as a pathway and a shopping mall to tiny shops many full of colorful Murano glass.
My friends and I ended up buying some life-like, red glass murano cherries on this trip to give to Bocelli after opening night of the opera. The opera was L'Amico Fritz, and it had an aria called, "the cherry duet." I have a couple of these sparkling cherries here at home. They are the best tourista 'trinkets' I have ever bought. And they made such a perfect gift for Andrea at the time.
A little over a year later, I made a return trip to Venice, like a pinch to convince myself I was not dreaming the first time; this time staying a few days. My niece and I stayed in the Rialto Hotel, which as it sounds is next to the regal Rialto bridge. So, I had the dreamy experience of gazing out of the ancient shuttered window from my perch above the Grand Canal and watch night take over this magical place and not have to leave, like my first visit. The dark waters reflecting the many colorful lights strung by restaurants and the glaze of light reflecting from the old, tall lanterns made for a timeless feel, like it could have been a night a hundred years ago with very little change. Our room's walls were lined with a pastel pink silk-like material the furniture painted ivory with 'real' venetian florid designs. The Rialto outside my doorstep, nothing could be more "less" like where I live here in Juneau, but it felt like a coming home.
With pathetic zeal, I have now decorated my bedroom with gondolas! Pictures with them. Ceramic ones! Metal ones! Glass ones! Also, paintings with scenes of Venice, Murano glass cherries, pictures of the Rialto. All because I am homesick.
posted by Laurie at
1:15 PM
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