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It's been a good, but bittersweet, couple of days in Venice, and these will likely continue. Venice, as I have said before, will constantly surprise you with her beauty. She changes, and so many of the faces are just breathtaking. I think back to the sunsets I saw with Shannon, the hundred times San Marco has caught my eye and made me smile and sigh, and then last night ... the day was warm, and slight fog-shrouded even during the day. The lagoon was filled with mist, and San Giorgio Maggiore barely visible across from the Piazetta San Marco. Pictuesque during the day, and alarmingly mysterious and enchanting at night. I must have spent a half hour just standing on one bridge or another in the evening, gazing out at the water and the fog.
I caught the traghetto, the little boat which can carry you across the canal where there is no bridge, at one point. In the center of the canal, I could barely see the other side, except for the lights marking out the edge of the fish market. I'm sure the lighthouse out on Murano was not just picturesque, but required for safety, last night. From the fish market, I walked to Trattoria Antiche Carampane, and delived my CD to the two women who run that restaurant. They were touched, and we drank prosecco and ate little crab cakes for a few moments. The owner said she was a little overcome with emotional, smiled, and said she would miss me and was going to cry. She didn't, but both she and Antonia gave me real hugs, and kisses on my cheeks (rather than the 'air' kisses which one customarily exchanges in Venice). I feel like I have Venetian moms now.
From there, I headed over to the internet cafe, where a bunch of drunk Irish were playing various types of music. One was a young diva with talent but, perhaps, some polishing still required for her songwriting. One was a drunk traditional singer who, along with me, sang bawdy, raunchy, drinking songs (I translated a bit for the Italians there, but a bunch of Irish had all come over together), and the last a very good singer-songwriter from Dublin, a real talent. After the 'show', which ended at 11 because of local laws against having loud fun, we all gathered around the table and belted out Irish and Liverpudlian (the owner of the cafe is from Liverpool, and put the night together) songs until quite late, at which time I stumbled home. We intend a repeat performance tonight, although I will also be meeting my scholar friends for farewells tonight as well.
After a last day in the library (I plan to skip Monday, and get shopping done), I went home, tidied, did more laundry, and then came here to the close by internet point. This place, Corner of the World, opened just at the beginning of November, and is fabulous. Neat, clean, new, and run by two friendly Venetian woman, a mother and daughter. I knew there was a story here, about how these two were running this business, and who the other daughter, much younger, and dark haired (the others are blond), might be. Cinzia, the mother, and I have just spent the better part of an hour chatting away in Italian about our lives. I know the story now, and it's more or less what one might expect - various men, separations, and the three women living on their own for the better part of ten years. Cinzia, at one point, pounded the desk (mock forcefully) and demanded that I stay in Venice. I suspect I could find work here, with them, on the evenings and weekends ... sigh. Roads not taken. Roads I'm not taking. But it's nice to be liked, and I do hope I get back to Italy in 2004. Maybe when I head to Istanbul next August I can somehow manage it, although I will likely, then as now, be broke.
So off into another perfect Venetian night, off to say goodbye to more friends and more hangouts, and reflect on this amazing fall that I have had. I feel very lucky, sad, a bit daunted at the writing I have ahead of me, but ready to finish my work.
But first, Irish drinking songs ...
I caught the traghetto, the little boat which can carry you across the canal where there is no bridge, at one point. In the center of the canal, I could barely see the other side, except for the lights marking out the edge of the fish market. I'm sure the lighthouse out on Murano was not just picturesque, but required for safety, last night. From the fish market, I walked to Trattoria Antiche Carampane, and delived my CD to the two women who run that restaurant. They were touched, and we drank prosecco and ate little crab cakes for a few moments. The owner said she was a little overcome with emotional, smiled, and said she would miss me and was going to cry. She didn't, but both she and Antonia gave me real hugs, and kisses on my cheeks (rather than the 'air' kisses which one customarily exchanges in Venice). I feel like I have Venetian moms now.
From there, I headed over to the internet cafe, where a bunch of drunk Irish were playing various types of music. One was a young diva with talent but, perhaps, some polishing still required for her songwriting. One was a drunk traditional singer who, along with me, sang bawdy, raunchy, drinking songs (I translated a bit for the Italians there, but a bunch of Irish had all come over together), and the last a very good singer-songwriter from Dublin, a real talent. After the 'show', which ended at 11 because of local laws against having loud fun, we all gathered around the table and belted out Irish and Liverpudlian (the owner of the cafe is from Liverpool, and put the night together) songs until quite late, at which time I stumbled home. We intend a repeat performance tonight, although I will also be meeting my scholar friends for farewells tonight as well.
After a last day in the library (I plan to skip Monday, and get shopping done), I went home, tidied, did more laundry, and then came here to the close by internet point. This place, Corner of the World, opened just at the beginning of November, and is fabulous. Neat, clean, new, and run by two friendly Venetian woman, a mother and daughter. I knew there was a story here, about how these two were running this business, and who the other daughter, much younger, and dark haired (the others are blond), might be. Cinzia, the mother, and I have just spent the better part of an hour chatting away in Italian about our lives. I know the story now, and it's more or less what one might expect - various men, separations, and the three women living on their own for the better part of ten years. Cinzia, at one point, pounded the desk (mock forcefully) and demanded that I stay in Venice. I suspect I could find work here, with them, on the evenings and weekends ... sigh. Roads not taken. Roads I'm not taking. But it's nice to be liked, and I do hope I get back to Italy in 2004. Maybe when I head to Istanbul next August I can somehow manage it, although I will likely, then as now, be broke.
So off into another perfect Venetian night, off to say goodbye to more friends and more hangouts, and reflect on this amazing fall that I have had. I feel very lucky, sad, a bit daunted at the writing I have ahead of me, but ready to finish my work.
But first, Irish drinking songs ...
