The traditional, all-fish feast at a friend’s 4th floor home on Christmas Eve was interrupted by the audio warning for the event we’d already prepared for: the arrival later that evening of the 150cm (five-foot) tide:

“Disquieting,” was the word they used to describe the sound; inquietante. Fortunately, the sirens were followed not long after by bells from the San Marco campanile signaling the beginning, consecration, and end of midnight mass. Much more hopeful and comforting, they were. Between them and the capesanti, spaghetti con peoci, gamberi, tonno, pesce spada (scallops, spaghetti with clams, shrimp, tuna, swordfish), and Pan d’Oro, our spirits were lifted in short order.

By the time I left at about 1:15 am, the water was ankle-deep at the Ponte dei Giocatoli. It deepened just before I crossed into Campo Santi Apostoli, dried up along the Strada Nova, approached calf-high on the Misericordia.

The water’s still rising as I write, and will be til about 4:30 a.m.  Good thing I’d taken my boots to dinner…

As I nod off to sleep, I can’t help but think of all the trash left on the streets that will be floating through the city canals on Christmas Day. Now, that’s disquieting. There oughta be a law.

In the meantime,

Merry Christmas to all…
and to all a dry night!