First: water, boats, an arched bridge, and sunshine. Venice is one of those cities that has the grace to look like your mental image of it. Unlike Rome, which is remarkably intact for something that is supposed to comprise only 1900-year old ruins, a fountain, and a large church. Or London, which is not actually Trafalgar Square, Tower Bridge, and Parliament standing side-by-side with Buckingham Palace across the street, as it turns out.
Second: a life-size Lego village. I've always wanted to live in a house made of Lego. I wonder if the people of Burano wake up in the morning and feel a rush of glee when they remember that their house is bright orange or frog green. The glee I would feel if I lived in a frog green Lego house would know no bounds.
Third: a monster of the deeps. Long neck, blue-green scales, fangs the size of steak knives, and gleaming yellow eyes that pierced through the fog. It grew quite foggy towards sunset on my first afternoon. I ended up on the Rialto Bridge, pointing my camera at the Canal Grande alongside a couple dozen other tourists. I don't know what they saw in the mist, but I was looking at those gleaming yellow eyes and wondering how many gondoliers it takes to fill the belly of a Venetian sea serpent.
Fourth: ghosts. They wander the narrow streets and glide down the canals by moonlight, seemingly aimless, paddle in hand but causing no ripples in the water. That wailing you hear in the distance and attribute to the wind? It's not the wind. It's the song of the undead. A lament for people lost, things done or undone.
Fifth: the Dúnedain. Or some of their descendants, I suppose. This little lady, for instance? She could run you to the ground without ever losing hold of her shopping. Ten years ago she could have put down a dozen orcs at the same time. But she was still young then, only just turned 253.
Sixth: vampires. Yes, I'm 100% sure that I saw ghosts and a sea serpent and vampires in the same small city. Why would Venice need so many churches if it wasn't harbouring vampires? You see them mostly at night, but in the daytime too, pale-faced and lurking in shadowed corners, eyeing tonight's prey. Even the markets cater to them with bouquets of chilies. Did you not know that vampires eat chilies? What, do you think they drink the blood plain?
I saw some art galleries too. A palace. A couple of churches. The graves of Monteverdi and Stravinsky. Christmas lights and blown glass chandeliers. One night I even saw a post-Christmas miracle. I left the Gallerie dell'Accademia just as it was closing, and stepped outside into the pouring rain. Maybe it was because I'd just spent all afternoon looking (with the greatest respect, naturally) at paintings of Madonna e Bambino and La Pietà, but moments after I'd stopped to purchase a €5 umbrella, I noticed that the rain was looking particularly white and fluffy.
How do you make one bucketload of cold, damp, but thoroughly excited tourists? Put them in Venice and throw wet snow at them. Definitely a post-Christmas miracle.
How do you make one bucketload of cold, damp, but thoroughly excited tourists? Put them in Venice and throw wet snow at them. Definitely a post-Christmas miracle.