City of Light and Water: Returning to Venice

After a second week of extreme testing and stress, nothing was more exciting to me than the prospect of visiting Venice again with my mother and grandfather. They had come into town on Thursday to visit Bologna, and so I was able to take them around town and show them my favorite spots (my gelatoria, my coffee shop, and my bookstore, among others). Friday morning, after Cultural Friday, we stopped for lunch at a Neapolitan pizza restaurant, Spaccanapoli, and grabbed some gelato before heading to the Bologna train station.

Venice, as expected, was gorgeous. Unexpectedly, it was not under high water, or acqua alta. We were able to move for most of the trip unencumbered.

We visited most of the same places that I had visited with my roommate a month before (in fact, thinking about it now, I believe we did the exact same trip), but this time I got to sit back and reflect on what I really love about Venice.

Piazza San Marco from the water

Venice has always had a siren's call to those who read and write, beckoning them with her Italian heritage mixed with her Islamic influences. Her architecture, her mysterious, sinuous canals, all lead to a sense of wonder and awe - a surprise that never quite disappears. You never know what will be around each corner, whether you're walking on land or traveling by vaporetto or gondola. And part of this is because Venice is still so in touch with its past.

The Bridge of Sighs from the water

One guidebook that I read (so many years ago that I'm not sure I still remember who wrote it) said that Venice is a sinking museum. And I think I might have to disagree with that now. Certainly, Venice is sinking. It's hard to ignore that when every floor you walk across is uneven and the cobblestones are popping out of the ground, when there are waves lapping up against everything and the evidence of the gentle persistence of water is everywhere. But I don't think the Venetians have abandoned their city to be simply a soulless place, with only empty buildings preserving the past. There's a liveliness to Venice that is unlike anywhere else in Italy - a life that has been built over generations, designed by people who were persistent enough to keep building on top of islands washed away slowly by water and time, who understood that what they created might not last for all time - but, no matter what, they would try their darnedest to build something that would survive them.

I may feel most at home in towns like Florence and Bologna, but there is something about Venice that will always call me back. It's as if I have unfinished business there.