Tale of the Traghetto

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I began this 'longer story' while in South Carolina on vacation, but now that's been a good few weeks. I just throw that in to show that I'm working on this project as a part of my conscious now, and from wherever I am. I'm also doing a lot of travel narrative writing and the study of it, so that's taking up a lot more time. This here isn't exactly what I'll put into the Capstone paper, but I will definitely reflect on the experience and the deeper implications that Italy brought me. I do hope to complete all writings by November 8th, so the deadline is set and I'm off! It looks like about everything on this blog is pieced back together, so there's nothing left to do but keep on writing!

So, back to Italy. You'll see a series of pieces that I'll be placing in for additions to the blog. I'm still figuring some things out and planning future meetings with my Committee, but I did want to write a good bit more on some of the stories, vignettes, comments, experiences, and other tidbits that I only got to mention here and there. Most of the trip in general is covered, but it is my belief that you ought to really "come along" and be affected by this trip (to be able to join the company of the rest of the group and I).

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Venice was our first stop. The odyssey that was our travels from Atlanta to London to Verona to Venice is the kind of thing that helps make me a veteran traveler all the more quickly. However, you will have to wait to hear about my experience without luggage. I honestly think that every travel writer will (and actually should) have to go through something like that...it will encourage those of us to stay with it and to help keep the love of travel going. Assisting others in their desire to travel is something I want to do as well.

It was this attitude (and the knowledge that no matter what happened, I would be able to sleep at some point.) that carried me through for those couple of days. I had good roommates, a decent dose of sympathy, and to echo my friend and fellow traveler Wes' statement, the thought of "I can't believe we're here!" That realization hits you when walking through the pathways beside the canals, seeing what Janice Whiting called the "yellow brick signs" to help us back to the hotel or whatnot, and thinking that a lot of what lay before you was akin to a movie set. Most of us had seen several movies about Venice before having actually set foot on that water taxi. We had heard the brief history of the city, how it was standing up but actually sinking a little each year, and the first full day, we stepped into St. Mark's Square.

After a moment, it is actually simple to look past all the pigeons. I expected that, and I expected a square made much more authentic that the casino in Las Vegas (called "The Venetian"). I felt slightly less than worthy to enter St. Mark's itself, but once I gave up photography privileges, checked my bag across the way at a small business, and walked around with mostly pad and pen, I made myself all the more humble. It took no time at all to see the gondoliers, to take stock of which ones wore the hats and the shirts, or just the shirts, and even to dine at their "hangout" that Janice loved so much. A few members of the group wanted to take an official gondola ride, but that would come the last night. I would just have to hear about that after they returned...for the most part, I was saving my Euros. But one of our most memorable moments came when we took a traghetto, or retired gondola, across the Grand Canal.

Upon doing my reading into this same experience, I found that a few writers went through the same thing. My ever-so-handy Frommer's guide claimed that everyone must take some kind of boat (even if they recommended the water bus or taxi, I believe) around the Grand Canal, especially to view the Rialto Bridge. It was the kind of excursion that everyone would get something out of, whether it be the first or the 50th visit to Venice. I saw the Rialto Bridge on a separate excursion, and the water taxi took me there. So now I turn to Doug Lansky, author "Last Trout in Venice: A gondola lesson on the Grand Canal." Mr. Lansky seemed to have taken the assimilating role of the travel writer quite seriously; he ventured out and took lessons on being a gondolier.

He wrote as one who had plunged into the water as well, the water feeling like it was "melting the lining" of his stomach. Mr. Lansky realized that not many tourists came to Venice to work on their gondolier-driving skills. They did a lot of what I saw each day and night of my visit:
"Most simply come for the romance: cozy strolls along the canals with the sound of distant bells, small waves gently lapping against ancient palazzos, and, of course, the enchanting footsteps of the 25 million tourists with white sneakers who annually trample this slowly sinking city of 75,000 residents."

I was totally on board (pun intended) with our brisk strolls around the city, taking in the artwork within the churches and museums, yet the logistical plan eventually included a crossing of the Grand Canal. We had taken one wrong turn that day, but as we went along the shoreline of the major-looking body of water facing out to sea from a city of "islands," I had views that I would never forget. We found ourselves weaving in and out again in the small streets and following Janice or her husband, fellow program coordinator Ray Whiting, to a small wooden dock with a "Traghetto" sign hung above. I remembered that the men waiting on customers weren't quite as busy as their fellow drivers that we had seen all throughout the city, and I was glad to let Janice handle the negotiations. She did, however, decide that one of the operators was a bit of a "jerk." This came later, after we had paid 50 cents, and after we climbed (with a fair amount of trepidation each) inside the glorified rowboat. Oh, excuse me, it was actually more like a johnboat. It always seemed to look better when fewer people were in it, but I found myself on one side of the thing, seeing more of our students and family members of the coordinators enter into the pack.

The boat didn’t toss or turn that much, but suddenly it seemed that several group members became the experts of science when it came to balancing the boat. The nerves began to fray as we set out and were calmly (at least, in the water) turning to aim towards the other end. I felt like if I looked behind me, I would feel a little too in tune with the Venetian waters. Yet I was the one having to have a picture of myself on this ride. I knew that many of the others were keeping their heads down (the student beside me almost crouching on the bottom on the boat), calling out to others to balance the boat or to just shut it, and probably a few saying prayers and so on too. Tom Nakashima’s wife Lindsey took my picture, and I could actually grin, for I found a good portion of this humorous. I wanted to quickly get the pictures and put my camera safely back in my bag, but hey, if we all went in, I’m not sure this final view of my smiling self officially on the Grand Canal would live on! I was looking at some tranquil souls across from me, so it was easier to focus on what everyone else was freaking out about or mildly contemplating. The driver, of course, knew what he was doing, and despite Janice’s son Isaac being certain we would “die” after inhaling the water on our way in, we made it to dry land. On the whole, I doubt that it took a full ten minutes. It was more like anticipating a shot at the doctor’s office…it could turn out to be scarier than the event itself.

I carefully stepped out as I had stepped in, still thinking that the boat could dip and swing itself from side to side at the dock. Wes and the gondolier stood ready to help us all out, and a neat detail I remember is the cotton bandage-like wrap on the gondolier’s hand. “Jerk” or not, he had probably done this job his whole life, as did the generations before him. And he probably had a new story about the scaredy-cat Americans to tell his buddies at the gondoliers’ hangout (cozy restaurant) that we had lunch at a few days prior. I moved away from the narrow dock and its tall wooden posts, noticing that we didn’t get the barber-striped like poles that were seen all throughout the city. This was the discount gondola ride, but later in the day, I think everyone preferred the “water bus” that ferried us around the waters to the Venice Biennale exhibit. The majority of the group that had made the journey over waited while the remaining three or so people made the trek across waters with depths of 9 to 13 feet (the Grand Canal is about 13 feet deep near the Rialto Bridge). We were the ones that got to laugh now as a group, talking about our narrow escape from anything that we could imagine in the “streets,” the action adventure passages of novels like “The Count of Monte Cristo” being easier to picture, more than likely. I think those that were practically reaching for inhalers were subdued, but their words would be remembered weeks later. And our brush with the waters of any sort in Italy weren’t over yet, as I have already indicated.

Soon we were reunited and walking the streets, er, walkways of Venice. Here a lot of the group found themselves returning to a normal heart rate and demeanor, and it was as if we all had gotten off some rollercoaster at Six Flags. Honestly, I would take this any day over the so-called "thrills" coasters bring, but that's just one opinion. I sure had a memorable experience to add to the others that stood out in our first few days of being abroad. Plus, no personal items were actually lost in the process! Even if you don't want to pay the prices to take an official gondola ride, you can still live as we had lived. Just have 50 cents, your wits about you, and perhaps a waterproof bag for your camera or for someone to breathe into. Perhaps Mr. Lansky did feel like he was venturing beyond the role of tourist on a gondola, but he also got to know the canals a little too well! I'll just take his word on it in terms of being a gondola driver and really 'out there!'

Coming soon: Tales from Ravenna, and of umbrellas...

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Photos

Everyone gets this view, it seems
It's funny, but it seems like so many paintings and photos I saw before and after Italy included at least one that looked like this! This faced out and towards St. Giorgio, and we have the row of gondolas too. No, we didn't ride one of these, but those willing to pay much more did. This was seen on the way to our traghetto ride.

Proof that I rode across the Grand Canal
Here I am (in all my no-luggage, 'roughing it' traveler-look glory) on the traghetto in Venice. I laughed or just took in what this felt like (rather than cowering in fright), and the photographer was right across from me. Good thing she was calm as well!

The Guggenheim
Eventually, we made it here, and from one side, the "street" or canal flowed. The modern art within was interesting, some recognizable by me, but the courtyard and galleries could also offer a calm afternoon. Adventure was present on this entire study abroad, but sometimes, you wanted the dosage to be just right!