Rain, the Rialto, and Vivaldi

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.