All the Water and None of the Sand
This was e-mailed to me by a friend a few days ago. It’s an initiative from the innovative, energetic think tank 40xVenezia (40 for Venice), a group of local 30-, 40-, 50-somethings and others who “believe in the enormous potential of Venice and of its international prestige,” and who want to harness its “artistic and cultural heritage, along with sustainable tourism, and revive the challenge of developing a true, metropolitan city.”

Sign the petition.
(see notes at end of post)

Actually, they will be Line 1, Line 2, and the new Line 3, with Line 3 being reserved for use by those in possession of a CartaVenezia or Tessera di Abbonamento. Either of these will now set you back a healthy €40 for a new issue, with tickets and passes to be purchased in addition to that. If you hadn’t picked up yours for the original €10, you have unfortunately missed the boat. I wonder whether this is in reaction to too many tourists opting for the Abbonamento instead of the VeniceCard or regular hourly passes (I’m just gossiping, of course; I have nothing remotely official to support my suspicions). With this rate hike, though, it’s certainly no longer economical to opt for an Abbonamento unless you are truly a frequent visitor or here for a long stay.

There was a ridiculous lamentation for “the poor tourist” over this new line recently in the London Herald Trib. Macchè. The “poor tourist” will have at least one vaporetto departing Piazzale Roma every ten minutes, certainly enough to get them where they want to go. It’s just that now, when a group of travelers’ enormous luggage blocks the front seats that are meant for the elderly, the former will be spared the disapproving looks of the Venetian vecie (and perhaps an accompanying schiaffo or two delivered by same. Manca mal).
Don’t forget, if you have any questions about the vaporetto, lines, tickets, and All Things ACTV during your visit, never hesitate to call HelloVenezia at +39 041 2424.
I was afraid this footage that Marisa passed along wasn’t getting enough visibility…although looking closer, this youtube user has a begun posting a series of Venetian archival film, and it’s just marvelous (just look how calm that water is). This is from when vaporetti were vapor-powered?
Gondola, schmondola. Last Sunday, September 29th, the Remiera Cannaregio held their first ever all-woman regata for its own members, le Donne NeroVerde (thus the green shirts). I didn’t feel confident enough to participate, and although I regret it, I would never have gotten these great pics to share with the gang if I had. The majority are not pros, or agoniste — heck, we’re not even Seria B — although you’ll easily spot the more experienced among them. They are instead enthusiasts in the truest sense of the word, as you’ll see by the looks on their faces. Che divertimento.
We’ll have to find another photographer the next time though, perchè la prossima volta, ci sono anch’io (I am so there…)!
If you’d rather, just scan the photos in the gallery below:
(Music credit: “Alegria” from Cirque de Soleil).
The massive center section of the Ponte di Calatrava, the fourth bridge over the Grand Canal that will connect Piazzale Roma with the Ferrovia (train station), was ported up-rio just before midnight on Tuesday, August 7th, before numerous fans and revelers (along with some less-than-enthusiatic onlookers), all positioned along the Canal at their outpost-of-choice to take in the spectacle. As for us, we waited at the Accademia Bridge for our first glimpse, then once the procession had past, maneuvered ourselves to below the Rialto as Calatrava & Co. maneuvered themselves around the first curve. We then tracked the bridge and its entourage under and beyond the Rialto (by far the most difficult passage, I think), and then, as we arrived in the Campiello Remer for some parting shots, I heard a voice overhead: Nen, Nenna! It was Liviana, gathered with some friends in an empty apartment (she rents them) above the Canal. Vieni su!
Bentornato! After ten years of restoration conducted underneath a series of imaginative scaffolding coverings that included depictions of the Eiffel Tower, Empire State Building and Tower of Pisa, the newly restored Torre dell’Orologio, or Clock Tower, was celebrated back into our company on May 27th, from 10p to midnight in Piazza San Marco. This photo of the moors here is from their web site, and is definitely a “before” image, as they’re gleaming now…
As you wander back from your evening repast, or head for Campo San Margherita in search of a little nightlife, you may notice plastic bags that begin dotting the calli here and there. They’re not supposed to be out yet, as the people who will carry them away won’t be coming by until the next morning. But be there they will, and every single day.
I recently installed Fastweb for broadband internet service. As I was giving my information to the representative over the phone, she asked, “Indirizzo?” My address is San Marco, 1662. “E la via, Signora?” She wants to know the street name.
There’s not one, I tell her; it’s Venice. I live on a piscina — once a stagnant pool that’s since been filled-in — but it’s not my address. My official address is San Marco, 1662, and although the postino will be able to find it easily with this notation, no one else could.
The largest bell in the San Marco campanile — there are five, and they each have a name — is called la Marangona. There is certainly no mistaking that superb, resonant, all-encompassing BONG, in distinct contrast to the chorus of energetic chiming from around the rest of the city at any appointed time. This largest one rang out in the past to time the work-day, the smallest to annouce an execution. (It’s been while, yes.)
At midnight, that massive bell resounds da sola, proudly, from high in the Piazza, and can be heard from almost any point in the city. Sometimes I call friends in the US so they can hear, especially the ones who’ve been here before. I just open the window and stick the phone out in to the calle. Che nostalgia.
If you’re out and about with a Venetian and the bell sounds, Aaaa, they’ll say with a glance and a nod, La senti? È la Marangona. If you allow it, you’ll be reminded just how often, on how many midnights, and for how many centuries, this small scene has been repeated.)