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.

“As I said, I don’t know how it really is, or was,” Anna went on…but Claudia followed through: “but you all have wooden houses with three steps.”

“Yes, three steps, tre gradini, chink-chink-chink,” Anna makes a jutting motion with her hand. Anna’s a middle school prof and is used to explaining things very clearly. “And at the top of these three steps,” she continues, sweeping her hand across an imaginary house, “there’s always a big porch, una grande veranda di legno, made of wood.“

As opposed to tile, marble, granite, or other stone with which a veranda would normally be made, I assumed.

“And in the middle of the veranda/porch,” Claudia continues, “are two doors.” Two doors? Double doors? “One on the outside, with a screen,” con una rete, she describes, “and another on the inside, with a big glass pane and a lace curtain.”

Ohhhh, those two doors! We are all beginning to laugh in ernest now. Even if lace curtains went out in the 40s, both us Yanks in fact grew up in houses with three steps…and two doors. But it is becoming clear that both these two women have precisely the same image of the American Home of Yesteryear. What else?

“Two doors that anyone could easily break into,” says Anna. “We never quite understood that. Two doors, but no protection, really.” Poom! she makes a motion as if to shove her fist right through them.

“None,” affirms Claudia. “Very strange.”

Favoloso. A typical Italian entrance has one door you couldn’t break through with a sledge hammer, and we instead have two that seem to be mostly for show. More, tell us more. How we are.

“So, you always have porch, and on the porch, to one side of the doors, there is always a porch swing.”

“Always.” Anna’s starting to giggle. “And on the porch swing happen all the nice things, the sweet things, affectionate things. A mother consoles her daughter, a young man apologizes to his girlfriend, a boy asks his grandfather for his advice.”

Yep. Just ask Atticus and Scout.

“All the things that make you melt.”

“Sì, precisely.”

I barely hear these comments, as we are all trying to suppress raucous laughter whose volume level has risen almost to that of the drunkenly-departed gondola group. Are you listening, Frank Capra?

“But,” continues Claudia, catching her breath.

“BUT…down on the three stairs, things are different,” says Anna, as sternly as she can manage. “The things that are said on the stairs are those no one wants to hear.”

“Troubling things,” Claudia punctuates.

“Troubling things, roba pesante. The unhappy adolescent whose parents don’t understand him, the dad who tries to explain to his daughter why he has to leave: anyone who’s had too much to drink and doesn’t want to listen sits there.”

“On the stairs, things never turn out well.”

“No,” Claudia affirms. “Never.” Mai.

James Dean sat on the porch steps, didn’t he? Did he? Well if he didn’t, he should have.

We continued to laugh into the night as we accompanied each other to our respective homes. Which was funnier, the truth or the recounting of the brilliantly constructed, reconstituted image of it, I still can’t say. All I know is, I haven’t been so entertained by an image of three steps and a porch swing in I can’t really say when.

They sound so confident…I hope they know of that which they speak.

First of all, I just ran across an excellent new (beta) site focusing on contemporary Venice (yes, there is one). Ben trovato, veneziadavivere. I’ve always like the pub, now you’re virtual. Uuu-ra! (They have an entry for the Festa della Sensa that we’re rowing in tomorrow. I’m happy they still consider that contemporary.)

It was on their web site that I found this, talking about wiring (or wi-fi-ring, you might call it) all of Venice. Seems so logical, the city is nothing if not compact. Logic would be only part of what it would take to implement this in the end, however…I only hope the rest of the factors fall in place.

Spring of 2009, they say. Sarà da vedere…

I’m beginning to understand the logic behind the Venetian system dei numeri civici, the addresses that only the postino knows for sure. Pity the poor traveler who arrives thinking that he can even get help on the street by asking, Can you tell me, where is San Polo 2825? Boh. Should he have a name of a calle or fondamenta that’s not too obscure, we can more likely point them in the right direction; perhaps they have a bad map that can give us a clue. Too often, though, they arrive without even a phone number…which means inevitable wandering, with luggage, sometimes in late evening, before finally, hopefully, locating their destination. Forza, su.

However, if you’re only moving (as I did, for the fourth time in less than four years, and more often than in the prior twenty), the numbering system comes in quite handy for updating folks with your new address, particularly if you don’t change sestiere. My last three homes have all been in Cannaregio, and indeed, each time I have moved, I have only had to change the sestiere number. There’s no street in the address, so that isn’t a concern; the zip was the same, and certainly the city. So…Cannaregio 4989 went to Cannaregio 2865 and then became finally (and this one should do it for some time to come) yet another number just around the corner from Tintoretto’s home. My U.S. folks are grateful for not having to learn how to spell yet another unfamiliar Italian word incorrectly (Miseri-who?).

I doubt that was any sort of consideration when the system was established secoli fa, but we have to look for some sort of silver lining, yes? All I can say is, thank heaven for VeniceExplorer and TuttoCittà. We’d never be able to find our way around otherwise, as even Google maps and ViaMichelin still haven’t quite gotten the whole Venetian picture.

The convenience of the numbering system notwithstanding, I praying to the Venetian dei that this lighter, loftier, appartamento recently ristaurato — that’s also one floor up with una porta sola, a highly-prized feature here — remains my home for some time to come.

How many times can you hear Beethoven’s 5th Symphony performed live? As many times as Yuri Termirkanov will conduct it for you, that’s how many.

Poor Sara was not well on Saturday evening, and SMSed me once again that afternoon with the availability of her Fenice subscription ticket. Needless to say, I didn’t hesitate to accept.

That evening the theatre was as full as I’d ever seen it. Not SRO, but close enough. They performed the 5th and the 6th symphonies, the latter of which I had never heard live. I feel terrible she had to miss it, but what a treat it was. I will take her some cioccolatini when I return her ticket. Hardly the same, though…

I didn’t get to participate in last fall’s all-woman regata della voga alla veneta (rowing with one oar, standing up, facing forward). Regate rowing races are held throughout the year for every sort of oared craft and combination of rower. The more serious competitors – referred to as agonisti – compete in those; we are instead called esordienti, or something akin to rowing debutants. We are women of all ages: single, married, widowed, moms, working professionals, and students; all passionate about the voga for the challenge, the exercise, the chance to be on the lagoon, the camaraderie and sheer allegria that are all natural by-products of participating this very-Venetian rowing tradition.

Last Saturday was the first of this year’s series of regate for us esordienti. It was March 8th, the Festa delle Donne, and we were in 8 mascarete: the lighter, more agile versions of the Veneto lagoon craft. My rowing partner (names are drawn to form the pairs that pilot each boat) was Amelia Coco, a young Venetian woman who’s studying to be a veterinarian at the University of Padova. Thanks to intemperate weather conditions ranging from wind, fog, and even a four-day bora with gusts of up to 40 kph lashing across the lagoon, in the weeks prior to the race we only had four opportunities to get used to each other as rowers.

Abbiamo vinto! Evvia!

Like so many things these days, Carnevale’s just not the same. The famous and otherwise well-endowed rent stupendous costumes to wear to prestigious, expensive, commercialized balls. We donned our own fanciful costumes, rather impressed with ourselves, but found we were in the distinct minority in giro, it was only when we attended some party or other that we found ourselves once again in the company of fantastic strangers. We missed the old days (except for the cold).

In any case, it’s tranquil city the day after martedì grasso and the end of the festivities, and Venice has another year to decide what sort of party it will throw l’anno prossimo. I do hope more folks opt for going incognito. It’s what makes Carnevale, Carnevale…isn’t it?

Nikki, a fashionable pirate, was the provina of our sandolo, and Gabriella was at the helm; Adele won the I Dream of Jeanne double prize as we followed the big, red peata up the Canal.

A proposito, for the corteo on Sunday, look for 4 women in sandolo. Io sono mora - they’re all blonde except me!

This Sunday, January 27th, to do their part to inaugurate Carnevale, the area remiere will form a Corteo (procession) of traditional Venetian rowing craft, from caorline to mascarete, cruising up the Grand Canal. The procession will commence at 10:15 at the Punta della Dogana, and will have at its center una peata, one of the largest barche a remo there are (see the video of the frozen canals in the post below). For the procession, the peata will serve as a floating stage for acrobats, musicians, and even flamethowers. As is the tradition, all us vogatori will be in costume and si fermeranno along the way for refreshments, at the Salute or the Accademia or the Rialto, until they reach the Fondamenta Cannaregio around midday, where they’ll halt public transport for the festivities. There’ll be bancarelle serving traditional Venetian Carnevale fare. (Fritelle, anyone?) Head that way yourself to take part in the festivities, boat or no boat, it will be as Venetian as you can get these days, and a great contrast to the subsequent 17th century reenactments to follow as Carnevale progresses.

On a recent Sunday morning I rowed on the Canal with friends (no corteo), and it was perfect: few taxis and no transport boats, only the normal vaporetti and other vogatori taking advantage of Canal quiet.) In contrast, this should be quite a spectacle; keep your fingers crossed that the weather holds.

Do take lots of photos (I’ll be the one in the costume).

A footnote: Out of respect for the families of the two workers that suffocated in the hold of a freighter in Porto Marghera a few days ago, the Saturday morning festivities that normally launch Carnevale in Piazza San Marco have been rescheduled. I understand that the volo del Angelo (which won’t be an angel at all, as you may have heard) will fly instead on Sunday. Mi par giusto.

For official Venice Carnival 2008 info, check the official Venezia Carnevale 2008 website.

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?

For post-Epiphany, we’re repeating the Britten Ceremony of Carols with harp accompaniment and additional vocal solos. The free concert is offered by the Scuola di Musica Giuseppe Verdi, and will be held in Venice:

• 6p, this Wednesday, January 9
• at the modest venue of the Foresteria Valdese, which is housed in the Palazzo Cavagnis (the Valdese Cultural Center)

The address is Castello 5170 it’s just over the bridge at the end of the Calle Santa Maria Formosa just off the Campo (not far from the famosa Mascareta).

I’d forgotten to mention the harpist in the previous announcement. Lei è bravissima, and it would be worth attending if only to enjoy her performance.

Although our harpist is professional, we are not; what we lack in polish…oh, we just love to sing. (Yesterday’s rehearsal went quite well, I would say…)

The Sunday before I headed for the States for the holiday, our choir convened to perform Britten’s Ceremony of Carols at a lovely church in Ca’ Savio all the way up on Cavellino (complete with a brilliant harp accompianiment; we’re repeating it on January 9th in Venice somewhere if anyone’s around). Following the concert, the church offered us a rinfresco downstairs; after an hour’s rainy travel in motonave e bus coupled with a rather intense rehearsal and concert, refreshments had definite appeal.

Now, being a) American and b) from the south, and the Bible Belt to boot, you can imagine my delight and surprise when, among offerings of Fanta orange, tè freddo, and sparkling water, was sparkling Prosecco as well. How sane is that; Catholics are such practical sorts.

A sip of prosecco is just the thing to quench a singer’s thirst, I’ll have you know. I felt like I was getting away with something, though, as I come from a country were alcohol in and of itself is suspect, and furthermore, a region where even if you have a social gathering at your own house, you wouldn’t think of serving liquor if you’d invited folks from the choich. Or if you did invite them, you’d never think to bring out the hooch until every last one of them had moseyed on out the door. Whew, I thought they’d never leave.

Of course, it was almost impossible to explain to my friends there why this charmed me so, as they would never get the joke. You don’t serve prosecco in churches? Ever? Why not?

Got me (but we all know how I am). Can’t wait to tell the folks back home - or maybe I just did.

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).

I must let anyone know who might be in town and might be interested, that the two excellent musicians who exhibit such extraordinary patience while instructing us to sing, and accompanying us while give it our best efforts will be performing in their own right this Sunday at 9p, in the beautiful Palazzo Ca’ Zenobio. The Palazzo is behind and down the fondamenta from the Campo San Margherita; its spacious gardens, grounds and palace are worth a tour with or without music. And the music? Mozart, Schumann, Rossini, Bellini. The usual stuff…extraordinarily performed. It’s free, but if you’d like to attend, best reserve a spot by calling +39 347 421 5867; here’s a map to the Palazzo.

I couldn’t begin to describe this unforgettable evening: Morricone’s exquisite strains lilting, lifting, and coaxing closely-held emotions out of you to be swirled away on evening breezes, mingling then with those of all the other enraptured concert goers that filled the square. I don’t think there never was a more appropriate event for the Piazza and its evocative environs. Bravo, Maestro.

(A practical aside: it was during the tension-laced urgings of the Untouchables that we first noticed the acqua making its entrance up through the slots in the Piazza pavement…and pooling right under the lighting cables. The engineers inspected the scene quite regularly during the evening, not sure whether to be pro-active or just see how the situation might unfold. “è Venezia,” says one to the other. “che vuoi fare.” It’s Venice. Whaddya gonna do.)

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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!

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Track the installation progress of the new bridge via the nearby hotel webcam. Mille grazie, Marisa…

If that link doesn’t work, try this one.

Hope to write a brief Redentore rundown at some point, as this year, having enjoyed the shorter (but well-choreographed) fireworks from the bacino theatre in barca was a completely different experience. In the meantime, I like these foto malfatte almost more than the decent ones (photographing fireworks are not easy in a bobbing barca, I’ll have you know).

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There’s another Spritz though, that I simply can’t get enough of. It’s furry, this one, weighs several kili, and has four legs. I was not happy when I had to move again in the fall of 2005 (the second move in as many years), but one of the positive aspects of the move turned out to be this Spritz; Spritz the Cat.

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This gallery has been moved to the blog gallery, or click “more,” below…

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. . . and not only can you drink it, it’s quite tasty, actually.

The other day, I was on the way to the San Marcuola vaporetto stop, following a traveler down the broad rio terà that runs behind the Ghetto. He was outfitted for the day with a medium-sized backpack filled with, oh who knows, traveler stuff; but on opposite sides of his sparkling-new, expertly-engineered pack were hoisted two 1.5 liter bottles of water, pronte to relieve his thirst at a moment’s notice. They made my packless back hurt just looking at ‘em.

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I am forever being asked for suggestions on where to find non-tourist Venice. My usual reply is that unfortunately it can be very difficult, especially if you don’t speak Italian. However, if you’re willing for an evening to go outside your Four Seasons comfort zone…

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In the Where Should We Go category, I’m going to begin adding entries for restaurants and eateries that are favorites of mine, along with reports of when I last visited them and why I like them. I’m not sure I’d call them “reviews,” officially; but I will tell you that I do love to eat, am picky about not only about the quality of the fare, but the service and care that’s attached to it, from the casual pizzeria on up. My favorite places are pivately owned and personally run. After your meal, you’ll definitely want to let both the server and the proprietors know if and how much you enjoyed it.

I’m not on a mission to try every restaurant in Venice, so this will be a bit of an ad-hoc list. There will be restaurants that are already quite well-known, those that are run by friends, and those with whom I have no personal connection whatsoever. The bottom line will be that you’ll (hopefully) not be disappointed should you try them.

A reminder: Most Venice eateries are quite small, with limited seating, and the good ones are no secret. You must reserve; especially in the evening, especially on the weekend, especially on common closing days. That, and if you reserve and change your mind, please, do them the courtesy to call and cancel, or have your lodging do it…even at the last minute. Manners mean more the money here; your consideration will not go unnoticed.

Tonight, at 6p, if you’re not headed for one of the many Biennale suorées, inaugurazioni, and other festivities held throughout the city, you might enjoy stopping by San Leonardo at 6p. The opening there is for a show with works painted by the students of a course offered by Professor Maurizio Favaretto. Sara Bardino, an extraordinary mezzosoprano (and my voice instructor) along with Davide Sibilla will be performing a variety of selections, lyric and otherwise (Voi che sapete…). Nothing amateur about this, my friends, you’d be doing yourself a favor by stopping in.

• Friday, June 8, 6p
• San Leonardo
• Rio Terà San Leonardo, just below the Guglie bridge.
• No charge
• From the San Marcuola stop, head toward the main Rio Terà and turn left. San Leonardo is at the back of a big campo on the left.

About the school (if you can’t read Italian, just look at the illustrations):

www.liceoartistico.ve.it

Oh, and Sara’s students have upcoming concerts on the Thursday the 21st and Monday the 25th, at the Scuola Grande di San Teodoro, across from the Chiesa di San Salvador near the Rialto bridge on the San Marco side. These are free concerts, all locals (I am the only import), including one night of lyric opera selections (Rossini, Bellini, and more), another consisting of plethora of delightful Handel duets. Details to follow!

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Addio, paper vaporetto tickets, the ACTV is adapting the most advanced smart card ticketing system in Europe, according to the announcement: one magnetized pass will take you anywhere in the system, land or sea, depending on the options you’ve purchased, and can be topped up at will. We won’t show them to anyone as we board, we’ll just be sliding and beeping, like the Paris Métro without the stairs. And it won’t be just for transport: they have plans to include options for museum entrances, events, and more.

The name’s Imob.venezia, thank you very much, and was introduced with much fanfare last week. The system will be phased in little by little, operational from November and paper eliminated by the end of March, 2008…it can’t come too soon for me.

Of course, this doesn’t make figuring out how to get from the Zattere to San Zaccaria without going to Giudecca any less confusing…but it’s the little things. Bravi, bravi.

Read Italian? Check out the article in the Gazzettino.

Just listening to a (welcome) announcement on the BBC that said roaming with your Euro-cell within the EU is set to be reduced by as much as 70%! Do you know what this means? At least telephonically, Europe is that much closer to being a Union. Bravissimi!

So, if you’re traveling with a French cell, an Italian cell, a Spanish cell, and so on, you’ll no longer suck the life out of your pre-paid SIM by calling your friend in that other country who’s coming to meet you tomorrow. Or, if you’re a writer living in Venice and traveling to France to check out travel information, you won’t pay as much to stay in touch back home by phone as for the entire round trip airline ticket (economical as myair.com is).

Oh, this is SUCH good news…even if we may have to wait till 2009 to have it completely implemented. For more info, here’s the Businessweek article that explains it all for you.

I am the occasional, grateful benefactor of a ticket to a Fenice performance, grazie a my voice instructor, Sara Bardino. She’s a season ticket holder, and due her own complicated schedule, can’t always attend. When I receive one of her prized, last minute text messages, spotting the words, abbonamento - Fenice - stasera, I never even check to see what’s on, I just reply with a quick, Si, ci sono, con tanto, tanto piacere.

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Bonjour!

Here’s a all-too-quickly assembled slideshow turned video from an all-too-quick trip across France, taking advantage of the excellent myair.com fares from Venice to Bordeaux, and Nancy back to Venice, with all the France I could manage in between. The goal (OK, the excuse) was testing out Paris resident and travel writer Alison Culliford’s content for the upcoming France: Instructions for Use (it was only a matter of time…and the right writer, of course).

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How long has it been there? Forever. Who knows about it, who goes there? Everybody. What’s its real name? Al Mercà, as a friend noticed recently when she reviewed her scontrino (receipt). Ma come mai, what’s up with that? (In a world of incessantly shifting truths, I like to pin down certainty whenever possible, especially on trivial details. Makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something.)

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A sgroppino is the famous Venetian after-dinner (of fish, traditinoally) disgestivo, although Giovanni says (a phrase which could frankly be the title of its very own blog) it’s too strong and tart, wipes out the delicate fish flavors, and in no way contributes to successful digestion.

I enjoy a sgroppino in the summer, which is about the only thing that can keep you cool around here when AC is scarce. I would think it would be a great addition to a beach party or relaxing on any given veranda, so just in case you might be looking for a recipe to try on your own. So while we’re waiting patiently for a change of seasons…

The classic recipe is 1 part lemon vodka, 1 part soft lemon sorbet, whipped. I think this comes out too watery and too vodka-y. So, try

• 2 c lemon sorbet, softened
• 1 oz vodka (lemon vodka, if you want)
• 2.5 oz prosecco

Have some sorbet in reserve if it starts to get watery. I would use a hand mixer as opposed to a blender, which will instead pulverize it and make it too watery.

Tcin-tcin!

I am in no way a cook or connoisseur, but I certainly do like to eat, and swoon regularly (accompanied by numerous umm’s and ahh’s that friends tease me about incessantly) over the sumptuous dishes that I’ve the good fortune to consume, in-house and fuori. My singular culinary claim to fame, however, is my pasta. I love making it, having learned from my favorite cooks, Mimma and Giuseppina, and I scramble to to whip it up whenever I have the occasion…and the time.

When I first told Giovanni about my enthusiasm for pasta-making, he scoffed. (Keep in mind, being Venetian and therefore skeptical by nature, combined with having certain bear-like tendencies, he scoffs at most things, especially when they’re proposed by un’Americana.) E come la fai? So how do you make it? I had a feeling this was a set-up, but I started to explain. “I start with Farina 00…”

…and that was as far as I got.

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Please always keep the door closed, because in the calle there are mice!

Rats, they mean — pantegane in Venetian. There are, in fact, and why not? An unlimited supply of refuse and secret passages for hiding out, living large, and making more pantegane. I recently spotted Spritz having is way with one of the smaller versions. The signora who lives above me couldn’t bear to see even a topo endure a slow, torturous, cat-induced demise; so she shoo-ed off Spritz, scooped up the mauled topo, and deposited him outside the iron cancello, presumably to recover and lead a long, scavenging Venetian rat-life.

There are topi in the calle because they are everywhere in Venice. The first one I saw years ago seriously startled me. Now, should I run into one (and I do, frequently, heading home anytime after dark, especially in summer), just for the heck of it, I try to see if I can make them scamper for cover. They rarely do, but end up instead challenging me to a game of chicken, hoisting themselves up on their hind-parts, regarding me curiously, as if to say (in Italian, of course), …You talkin’ ta me, are You talkin’ ta ME?

Occasionally I succeed in making an intern (who has not yet learned that the pantegane rule Venice) scurry out of sight, or disappear down into the nearest rio; but more often, they hold their ground and I’m the one who loses nerve. In fact, toward the end of this summer, I’ve just started saluting them casually, just as any other friend or conoscenza I might meet along the way home. Bastardi.

After following endless polls and campaign trails for the last few months, I tracked the election results via the NPR site and stream last night and this morning. As it stands, Democrats have at least 22 governorships, 9 state governments (controlling all three branches), 28-and-counting seats in the house for an easy majority, and are holding for Virginia and Montana results to see whether they’ll take the senate as well. Nancy Pelosi is looking at the House Speakership, the first woman ever in that post.

I thought this day might come eventually, I just didn’t know what it was going to take.

Here’s to the possibility for change, and that wisdom somehow becomes a value inside the beltway (no matter what the party affiliation). I suppose it will be up to us to remind them as well…Che pazienza che ci vuole.

(What has this to do with Venice? The answer would be an entire essay in itself, I’m afraid…)

This post will remain at the top of the blog until November 24, in case you’d still like to cast a vote for Andrea’s photo: www.premioceleste.it. (By the way, once you vote, the site will send you a confirmation e-mail, to which you must reply to register your vote. It’s in Italian, of course…but it’s the standard reply procedure.)

The original post follows…

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As you meander the fondamente of Venice, you’ll likely notice they’re lined with i pali, the mooring posts which permit the boats to park, for an hour, a day, a lifetime. Until recently, these have all been made of wood, hewn tree trunks of various sizes, hauled in from the mainland and impaled deep into the soft lagoon bottom, serving devoted boaters for as long as they’d last. All part of practical Venice that also adds to its famous atmosfera, yes? There’s a problem, though.

The lower sections of these piles are drenched and exposed incessantly with the tide ebb and flow, and the saline slowly eats away the wooden surface, which eventually becomes rough and craggy. A boat lashed at high tide will drop with the water level, as will the ties that bind. If lashes can get caught on the lower, roughened sections of the piles when the tide comes back in, though, the water level will rise…but the boat will not. So you can imagine the buzz-kill when you show arrive to take it for a spin on the lagoon, and discover it is instead playing nautical hide-and-seek, glinting up at you pathetically from just underneath the water’s surface.

What’s a water-bound city to do?

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My new abode couldn’t be more different that the last place, and I’m very fortunate to have found it. Liviana (and her son Gabriele of Luxrest Venice) came through again, with just the thing.

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