For a
holiday respite, I’m devoting my Friday posts through December and into January
to recounting a trip I took to Venice in 2007. Using photos and notes from the
trip, I’m highlighting the urbanist issues of day-to-day life in what may be
the most famous car-free city in the world.
Today, I’ll
write about what I think it means to be a Venetian in the 21st century. To me, it provides insight to what it means
to be a citizen of any contemporary city.
I’m not a
sociologist. I can’t offer any profound or
scholarly insights. But I’ve studied the
history of the city and observed its inhabitants for a couple of weeks. And I can assemble that information into
thoughts that I find reasonable.
Venetians
have a sense of their past. Venice
is the longest-lived republic in the history of the world. For a thousand years, the improbable city in
the lagoon at the head of the Adriatic was a major player on the world
stage. Mainland kingdoms came and went,
but Venice and its people persevered.
The United States, particularly John Adams, looked to Venice for
guidance in establishing the fledgling republic that entered onto the world
stage just as Venice was departing.
Today, the
history of the Venice Republic is fading into the mists of the past, much as
Venice itself is settling into the mud of its lagoon. But the people of Venice haven’t
forgotten. They know that their ancestors
helped create the world we know today, even if Venice is now only a curious
city that is barely relevant to Italian politics.
Despite
their reduced importance in the world, Venetians are confident and sure of
themselves. During my stay in
Venice, I took several day trips to other Italian cities, including a Friday
trip to Florence. With a two-and-a-half
hour train ride both directions, I didn’t return from Florence until late dusk. Taking the vaporetto down the Grand Canal, I
could gaze at the canal-side windows of the grand palazzos as they came alive
with Friday evening entertaining.
I recall one
particular palazzo. From within, the
sounds of a string ensemble floated out.
On a balcony, a couple had stepped away from the party and were
chatting, sipping wine, blissfully unconcerned about the hoi polloi gazing upon
their conversation from our humble vaporetto.
In
silhouette, their ages were indeterminate, perhaps early forties. But their bearing was impossible to
miss. Proud and confident. The Venetian equivalent of Gatsby and Daisy
standing on the pier. Their domain may have
slipped away, but they weren’t willing to acknowledge it. It was an attitude that I noted often during
my stay.
Venetians
can experience joy, even if transitory.
Other than occasional head nods in the stairwell, I had no interaction
with the married couple living two floors below me. They seemed quietly middle-class and
childless, perhaps in their thirties. If
they possessed any English skills, they didn’t choose to practice them on
me. And I certainly had no Italian
skills to practice on them.
So I had no
background on which to rely when, on the first Saturday night of my Venetian stay,
I was awakened at 1:30am with the sound of singing from their apartment. My guess is that several couples had gathered
in the apartment for an evening of dinner and conversation. Late in the evening, shortly before breaking
up, they began to sing Italian folk songs.
I couldn’t make out the words, but the melodies were familiar. Their voices weren’t exceptional, but competent,
with joyfulness overcoming any tonal shortcomings.
As I lay in
bed and listened, they sang for perhaps fifteen minutes. The party then broke up. Several of the guests continued to converse loudly
as they walked away. Throughout the
singing and the conversation, I didn’t hear a single complaint despite the late
hour. Perhaps others were as willing as
me to use the joy as an excuse to forgive the volume.
The
population of Venice has been declining for years. The revenue that can be made from tourism is encouraging
building owners to convert from apartments to tourist rentals, displacing Venetians
who must move to the mainland to find lodging.
Also, there are some Venetians who cherish the American dream of past
generations of a backyard with a barbecue.
They find the lifestyle of Venice limiting and believe that the suburbs
will somehow be better.
That
knowledge was in my head as I listened to the singing and later chattering. It was likely that one or more of the couples
would leave Venice before their lives were over, perhaps willingly or perhaps
because they had no option. And yet
tonight, they were living a life that they would remember with fondness for as
long as they lived. It made me happy to
listen to them and sad that their good times would come to an end.
What are
lessons that can be drawn from these few observation of Venetian life? There are several. One, know the history of one’s city and take
pride in it. Few cities have the long
and gloried history of a Venice, but every city has reasons that it exists and
vivid personalities who were a part of its past.
Second, be
confident in the future. If there is no
obvious reason to be confident, then work to make changes until confidence can
be found.
Third, be
joyful in city life. Perhaps it won’t
last forever, but neither do cherry blossoms.
Both are still worthy of swelling hearts.
Venice is
gloriously unique in the history of the world, but even in its uniqueness, its
residents have lessons to impart to other city dwellers.
As always,
your questions or comments will be appreciated.
Please comment below or email me.
And thanks for reading. - Dave Alden (davealden53@comcast.net)
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