It’s from quarantena, the period of 40 days that cargo and merchandise arriving from faraway lands was sequestered on the island of Lazaretto Nuovo. All sorts of treatments were applied to the goods held in storage there in the hopes of extinguishing whatever bestie might be lurking that could potentially carry the dreaded bubonic plague to the city. Venice was decimated by two major plagues barely fifty years apart (1576 and 1630), a factor which certainly contributed in no small part to the Republic’s eventual demise.

The English word origins don’t stop there, of course. It’s one of the first uses of the word word “lazaretto” to refer to a hospital or place of quarantine for those with infectious diseases (a bibical allusion to Lazurus). You were shuttled to Lazzaretto Vecchio if you developed symptoms of the plaque to recover…or not. In fact, just last year mass graves were discovered on Lazzaretto Vecchio; the graves were utilized not as a result of disrespect for the dead, but of the number and speed at which people were dying.

On Lazzaretto Nuovo however, evidently sailors from Crete, Constantinople, pass the time by leaving wonderful recounts scribbled attentively across the wall; they seem to be the ancient equivalent of “I was here.” They are very well restored, and almost always allude to events of the day and affirming they were experienced in buona compania. Even then, it seems that hanging out with good friends was a highly-valued activity.

There is much more to see on Lazzaretto Vecchio, including a still-operational vera da pozzo with one of the few engraved lions that Napoleon missed in his manic quest to obliterate them all. You may tour Lazzaretto Nuovo on Saturdays and Sundays in either the morning or late afternoon from April through October. For more information stop by the tourist office, or call +39 041 244 4011. To reach the island, take Linea 13 for Sant’Erasmo from the Fondamente Nove, and ask the ACTV personell to let you know when you should get off. (Unfortunately, the web site for Lazzaretto Nuovo seems to have been hijacked by some imbecile, and so at this writing is inaccessble.)

One last note: take mosquito repellent. As well-cared for as the island is, it’s still a bit difficult to keep the bestie under control. Now we know why they abandoned Torcello…

The four of us (two Venetian locals, two born in the U.S.A.) had just finished una cena improvvisata on Anna’s 4th-floor terrazzina that hovers over the Rio San Lio, when the last, late-night

 gondola group boisterously (if with some difficulty) disembarked below us. “Buena sayra,” they each say in turn, teetering off with two half-full bottles of wine in hand. The gondolier responds with a perfunctory buona notte as he shoves a fistful of cash in his pocket, and pushes off for home.

“I’ve never been in the U.S.” recounts Anna, “so I have no idea what it’s really like. But we have this one, very consistent image from all the movies we’ve seen. At least all the older ones.”

Ah, lovingly-conjured bygone film images. Wherever this was leading, it was going to be good.

(more…)

I can’t tell you what a delight it is to get a Google alert from out-of-the-blue, notifying you that someone has said something nice about something you’ve done. Alison and I worked very hard to make France: Instuctions for Use a useful pub, and a worthy follow-up to Italy: Instuctions for Use; according to Cherie Thiessen of January Magazine, we succeeded:

I’d have bought the book for only this one piece of advice, which I happily learned before the plane’s wheels smacked the runway.

… always to be the first to say bonjour… anything else is unfathomable, and will be considered downright rude.

What great advice this was! Time and time again we saw dour faces transformed by a mere “bonjour madame,” and helpful suggestions offered in response to our “Bonjour monsieur. Pouvez-vous m’aider?”

We are very flattered. Merci, Cherie.