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Wednesday, September 16, 2009 at 10:01

The steady rocking of the EuroStar had put her to sleep, so Aviva didn’t see it as it arrived. Besides, she was pointing the wrong way, so would have been unawares even while awake. I, on the other hand, pointed east towards our destination, witnessed the crossing of an invisible line between Padova and Venezia. The line demarcated our arrival into India during monsoon season, or so it would seem. By the time we had traveled the final 10’ and I had roused Vives to wakefulness, a rivulet blanket had covered the entire train,[links are to Flickr - the embedded photes don’t seem to be appearing] making views out the windows impossible. I can describe to you only that Venice, upon approach, is wet - no more can I tell you.

I can, however, quiet easily relay my impressions upon arrival: I am in a state of immediate love. Monsoon or not, Venezia is unique and I have always appreciated difference. There are no cars. The canals are a prism, simply waiting for the sun to light them up. In the rain, the world is barely turning, tourists hiding and many store-fronts barred - walking, I have the place nearly to myself, treasure troves for further, later exploration teasing through beckoning windows. The “streets” I walk are narrow closes, channeling direction, sound and focus - I move along as though on a conveyer belt of new experiences. Left and right wonders appear: a circus of masks through one pane, a kaleidoscope of ties (8 Euros) through another, I fall into a warm world of espresso and dolce. There is prosecco, chilled.

I buy a bottle and wander “home”, wonder whether I’ve prematurely ended my holiday by neglecting to bring a map. Thinking, “who cares?!” (what would it be like to live here for a few short, delicious months. Surely the “real” world wouldn’t miss me.) I dream my way left and right through the light that is rising unnaturally at this evening hour. Galoshes are out on the stylish locals; tourists, immediately discernible as a sub-species Darwin has his eye on, are dressed otherwise. I try to blend, knowing in my truest heart that I never will.

Arriving fortuitously (?) back at my B & B, I try to turn left for the door but fall right, into the cioccolateria. 160 grams heavier, gravity releases and I am able to cross the street.


Spirit of the West performed an outdoor concert with the National Arts Centre Orchestra on July 21, 2007 at Lebreton Flats Park in Ottawa. I captured one of the songs from that show, If Venice Is Sinking.