On a foggy, rainy day, I’m watching the water taxis bounce on the canal like kids’ toys, waiting for our own to take us to the airport. This was our second trip to Venice and we’ve decided it won’t be our last.
There is some thunder over the 700-year-old domes we can see from our balcony, which have experienced the winds and rains for centuries, standing still, dignified guardians.
In St. Mark’s Square, the tuxedoed musicians play to the crowds who are in tee-shirts and flip-flops. The pigeons readily sit on our outstretched arms and hands to eat peanuts and breadsticks, completely unafraid of tourists. People adorn the palace balustrades and balconies like icing on a cake, on a building within which the Doges once ruled with absolute power.
There is no such thing as a meal in Venice that is anything but outstanding. We found everyone who lives and works here whom we encountered to be helpful and cheerful. The canals are wondrous, and it’s interesting to ponder whether the gondoliers’ yelling is about the fact they’re making a turn, or they want a favor, or someone owes them money.
The huge cruise ships that are occasionally towed by (they’re not allowed to be under power in the lagoons) are completely out of place, modern excess in a city of ancient intimacy. Fortunately, they hide them behind one of the islands.
Until we return, arrivederci.
© Alan Weiss 2016