Yesterday we experienced our first intimations of fall here
in Venice. It was a chilly and overcast morning that greeted us, followed by
light, periodic rain. Our movements and intentions were guided by the twists
and turns of the weather. To begin we headed over the bridge closest to the
station, following the periodic signs pointing to the Rialto, second only to San Marco in the hierarchy of spots to visit while here. For
centuries it was the only bridge across the Grand Canal. As such it was the
economic and marketing center of the city, a spot highlighted in the
English-speaking world by Shakespeare’s A Merchant in Venice. Like San Marco
this area is packed, especially during the mid-day with tourists, eager for
photos of the site and of themselves visiting it. One side of the bridge is
under renovation; its covering hides views up the Grande Canal, forcing the
entire brigade of visitors to the opposite side, standing four and five deep to
“enjoy” their special moment at the Rialto. Billie and I were deep into a
controversy about adequate cover during the periods of rain as we gained the front
of the crowd at the railing. To her “Vancouver” thinking, anyone who covers his
or her head during a light rainfall is clearly a weakling. To my “Nana who is
responsible for a 12-year old’s current and future health” mind, a kid who is
still recovering from bronchitis must avoid getting drenched on a chilly day. My
pronouncement: when it rains, Billie must use the umbrella we are toting or, we
shall stand under any nearby shelter until the rain stops, regardless of length
of time. Without any conclusive agreement on this point we retreated to an-open
air but sheltered restaurant at the foot of the bridge to have lunch.
Lunch: a simple pizza to share – 10euros; two cans of coke –
9euros i.e., about $15 Canadian. No, I would not spend $15 on a couple of cans
of coke and the restaurant would not provide glasses of water. We ate the
not-bad pizza without benefit of liquid, retreating afterward to the more
convenient-type shop next door for two small bottles of water and two gelatos,
for in total less that the proposed cost of the cans of coke. The full price at
the restaurant came to 13.5 euros by the way – one must pay a cover charge to
sit down and eat at such a place, plus there was tax – with a small tip for the
understanding waitress, a total of about 16 euros, or around $25 Cdn. It ain’t
cheap to eat out here, even simply.
In the meantime the rain had stopped for the day and our “covering”
controversy had become moot, at least for yesterday. On we strolled, heading
more or less for San Marco and the quay beyond which leads to the Arsinale.
Once the rain evaporated, however, the sun showed its face. I had failed to
bring along either my sunglasses or my parasol and venturing into the open sun
was hard on my eyes. We began to drop into churches that were open along the
route. Some of these are the sites of evening concerts performed daily in
several locations. In each tickets can be purchased for the concerts while one
enjoys the beauty of that church and the surrounding piped-in music. I bought a
ticket for last night’s concert at which Vivaldi’s Four Seasons was to be
performed. Billie was not inclined to join me but we left it open for her to
change her mind later. The concert was to be held at a location other than the
church where I purchased the ticket so we set out to find that spot. It was a
fortunate decision as the church, close to the Academia was difficult to
locate. I would never have found it later in the evening in the dark. This kind
of rambling in Venice is the best actually – heading into the twists and turns
of the ancient city, getting lost, asking directions of a myriad of people, and
eventually finding one’s way. Every alley, every open campo, contains its own
beauties and surprises.
We found the church, had a look inside, and went over the
close-by bridge to ascertain that the vaparetto (the Venetian boat-bus) stop at
its side could be reached from the train station. I had a ticket and a plan. What
we had done to this point must seem very little but we were both tiring (in all
we had walked about 9K when we returned to our place), and decided to head for
home. This walk entailed a journey through a new area of the city for me,
coming along the streets lining smaller canals from the Academia to the Piazale
Roma, the area where city and tourist buses are permitted to just the edge of
Venice, after which there are only boats for transport. It was a lovely walk
through many open campo, far less travelled by fellow tourists than those
heading toward the usual places of interest. The station is close by and so was
chez nous. We fell happily into our retreat for several hours of resting,
reading, and snacking. Billie has some capacity for communicating with her
friends – she writes stories and I presume sends them on, and her friends send
their stories to her for reading.
Later when it was clear that Billie preferred to stay home, I
ran out to get her some supper, and left for the concert. I was shocked
(clearly my Scots heritage) to find that a return ticket by vaparetto would
cost me 15euros. As a 24-hour pass is 20euros, I opted for it, planning to take
Billie for a ride on the Grand Canal today. I sat in the open-air stern
enjoying the loveliness of the canal at night. Much of it is rather austere,
old buildings mostly unlit facing onto the water. In places where people were
gathered to eat there were lights and an evening’s beauty of warm sociability.
We traversed under the Rialto and on to the Academia bridge. As there are so
many stops along the way progress was slow – likely it would have been faster
to walk had I been able to find my way in the near-dark. As we approached my
stop it began to rain steadily. I put up my umbrella and headed, along with
quite a few other concert-goers over the bridge and into the church just in
time for the concert to begin. I thought that as I was alone I would more
easily get a good seat – there often being gaps left in seating, and I was right.
I was escorted up to the front and given an excellent spot just shy of the raised
dias.
The church was full. The musicians approached, all wearing
black, fairly casual outfits. The audience was generally an older crowd, people
possibly like myself, now able to travel a bit with some time and money
available. There was a fine spirit of anticipation as the group of ten
string-instrument players readied themselves. Ah, the wonderful acoustics of
this old church. I have heard considerably better renditions of the Four
Seasons on CDs and the radio but none with the power of those acoustics. It was
magical. I closed my eyes and took it in, tears falling unbidden onto my cheeks
as I relished the beauty of Visvaldis’ music right in the town of its
composing. There was an intermission after the Seasons during which I made my
getaway. I had only come for Vivaldi; after the pause there was to be another
piece by a composer whom I didn’t know, and a second by Haydn which I might
have enjoyed, but, it was already close to 10 PM and I knew it would be another
45 minutes before I was home to Billie. So off I went via vaparetto again along
the lovely river of the Grand Canal, back to the train station, and through the
set of four keys up to our room and its warmth and its Billie. She had enjoyed
her quiet evening and had even worked on some of her math homework! Impressive.
We soon settled in for an 11:30 sleep time.
It's beautifully sunny out right now. I’ll start making rousing
noises to Billie and we’ll be out and about for another day. Late (our time)
tonight the Blue Jays play Texas at Toronto. I likely will be up at some point
in the night to check on their progress. All the best to you in the far-away
New World from us here looking around the Old.