It has begun raining in Venice.
A quiet, dark, dappling, echoing rain, where I can hear every drop off the basil, dripping onto the cobbles, leaking from drainpipes, dribbling down walls, resting on sills, gathering into silver puddles, pooling on stone, bubbling on railings. Flotillas of umbrellas float by, dense with drops. People keep their heads down, jump over shining puddles, try not to splash. Venice is quiet. The tourists seem to have disappeared, huddled in their hotels, afraid of a truly exquisite experience. I heard thunder, loud and important and determined. Because the tourists are hiding, I'm spared their loud voices and when I look out of my window I don't see crumpled maps and coupled arguments, but Venetians going determinedly o n their way, polite, respectful. Venetians give way to each other in the calli: tourists storm like herds of antelope, imagining every one else invisible in their quest for more.
I signed up for sms notifications of l'acqua alta. High water. I'm going to buy some yellow wading boots and get out there when the canals are flooded. The locals hate it, but it's a way of life. They don't think it's romantic, or comfortable, or even photogenic. They don't like the aroma of mould and seaweed. They bring out the sandbags, and hunker indoors. But this is all new to me, and I'm going to stuff my senses.
So many tourists walk with their noses in guide books and maps. Throw them away, I say. Get lost! Wander at will. You'll never disappear, vanish into a canal, be kidnapped by a mad person who wants to make perfume out of your skin. Discover the dark spots, the hidden corners, the surprising trees, the merry windowsills. Look Up. Look Sideways. Definitely look down ... for their are too many hidden smelly surprises dropped by ill mannered dogs not to heed this warning. Put your cameras away for every second shot and just absorb Venice.
And in this raining, grey, silvery, soft, quiet light, it's even more beautiful. After school today, my camera and I are going for a walk.
I signed up for sms notifications of l'acqua alta. High water. I'm going to buy some yellow wading boots and get out there when the canals are flooded. The locals hate it, but it's a way of life. They don't think it's romantic, or comfortable, or even photogenic. They don't like the aroma of mould and seaweed. They bring out the sandbags, and hunker indoors. But this is all new to me, and I'm going to stuff my senses.
So many tourists walk with their noses in guide books and maps. Throw them away, I say. Get lost! Wander at will. You'll never disappear, vanish into a canal, be kidnapped by a mad person who wants to make perfume out of your skin. Discover the dark spots, the hidden corners, the surprising trees, the merry windowsills. Look Up. Look Sideways. Definitely look down ... for their are too many hidden smelly surprises dropped by ill mannered dogs not to heed this warning. Put your cameras away for every second shot and just absorb Venice.
And in this raining, grey, silvery, soft, quiet light, it's even more beautiful. After school today, my camera and I are going for a walk.
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