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Published: August 4th 2008
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Il fine settimana…the weekend! So, as the title implies- my weekend was saved by two lovely men- Matteo and then Jeremy. (And in the same place, and at the same time…but I get ahead of myself- let me begin again.)
(Venerdi)Friday, August 1: When I walk around Venice now, I have my iPod on, which gives me a bit of relief and a taste of home to hear top 40 hip hop or enjoy the cooling sunset as I listen to George Michael’s “Father Figure” (thanks Maryam)- or a bounce in my step when Abba comes on. After a short private lesson today, I went to the Accademia (finalemente!) and I have to say, for all its glorious artwork, I have never been in a hot museum before. “Fa caldo!” (It’s hot!) are the words always on everyone’s lips. I realized I’m not sleeping or eating so well because it’s so flipping hot- is it possible to sweat your own body weight?! At least the mosquito bites are starting to subside- I didn’t want my triumphant trip home to have me looking like a leper. The great surprise of the Accademia was “La Tempesta” by Giorgione (look it up!)- my jaw
Concerto Vivaldi
The concert I attended on Saturday night... dropped involuntarily when I rounded the corner and saw this little gem. After the museum, I headed back to school in order to run into Julie, a fellow American who now lives in Venice. (Her husband works for FedEx and they were relocated here- what an assignment!) I now have some plans to kick around with someone and have some fun on Monday. In the meantime, I vowed to cut loose this weekend.
(Sabato)Saturday, August 2: Another hot night and difficulty sleeping- no wonder I am sleeping so late. Every night my bedsheets are soaked- but at least my landlady (la mia padrona), Signoria Sansoni, has seen my mosquito bites and has given me a plug-in to ward off the mosquitoes. Mercy! I had a day of decadence today- I visited the Ca’Rezzonico, which is the museum dedicated to the Settecento (the 18th century aka 1700s). I saw the beautiful ceiling frescoes of Tiepolo, the great Venetian decorator, and many beautiful works of decorative arts: enameled tables, Venetian glass candelabras, finely lacquered chairs, etc. This grand palace often hosted English and French visitors for Carnevale, who arrived masked, sipped Prosecco (my new favorite drink) and enjoyed their winter escapade of
Everwatchful Virgin
A statue in the courtyard of the Ca'Rezzonico. decadence and the naughty fruits of anonymity. (Rent “Wings of the Dove” a film adaptation of the Henry James’ novel). That evening, I was lured to the church of San Vidal, where I bought a ticket to a concerto of Vivaldi, a Venetian Baroque composer. The main score was “ Le Quattro Stagioni” (the Four Seasons)- with a little Haendel and Paganimi thrown in for good measure. As a new acolyte to classical music, I have to say I could not resist the strings- the violins were like whispered sweet nothings, and the violoncello- the passionate kisses. The concert was performed by “Interpreti Veneziani” who are a new young up and coming Venetian strings (and harpsichord) group. I hear they’re coming to the States soon…
After the performance, I thought about my Uncle David and Marge, and decided to splurge on a late dinner (which is the only way to have it in Italy). What a wise decision. After some lasagne Bolognese and a glass of Cabernet, I spent some time flirting (or returning the attention, should I say…) of my cute waiter, Matteo. (He seems to find many opportunities to pass by my table and ask me questions- like
Carnevale
Nuff said. my name…☺ ) I have not found the men to be overt in Venice, but Matteo was very charming- and we spoke half in Italian and half in English. I find myself lingering and ordering yet another glass of Cabernet. Since the restaurant is near my apartment, I do say that I will be visiting it again soon. Tthe restaurant was hopping, so I found myself distracted by a very cute dog. After conversing with his owner to inquire his name (Toby- the dog), our Italian turned to English as I realized that Jeremy (the owner) was an Englishman. He’s lived in Venice since 1976, and he works as a translator. He invited me to come over the next day for tea and biscuits, since every Sunday afternoon he hosts English-speaking intellectuals for tea. Of course I could not refuse. Who says no to tea and biscuits with intellectuals?
(Domenica) Sunday, August 3: Another late rise and I am off to the Museo Correr, which is the history museum located in San Marco’s piazza. Filled with everything from paintings, to old poetry books on Casanova, coins of Doges, and military weapons, it’s an interesting mix of stuff. After a few
hours, I linger at a café, and then head to Jeremy’s for tea. I easily find his apartment (shocking!) and I am the first to arrive. The apartment is truly Venetian, and Jeremy shows me his two new paintings he recently bought at Sotheby’s. They are Baroque, and I offer to do some research when I am back in the States. Not too long afterwards, a couple arrives, including a rather famous British novelist and her husband. Soon after, French artists, writers, etc., all pour into the apartment. Jeremy’s tea and biscuits are wonderful, and I chat about my dissertation, art, writing, and try to hold my own amongst these trilingual, accomplished intellectuals. The afternoon has rejuvenated me, and as I am of the last to leave, one of the other women invites me to join her for a drink. Cheryl, a New York artist, shows me some lovely bars, not crowded by tourists, introduces me to Prosecco (which is cheap, local, and tastes almost like champagne! Imagine spending two dollars on a glass of champagne- and only wine is cheap in Venice!)- and takes me to the famous Rialto Bridge where we sit on the bank of the Grand
Canal and watch the boats and gondolas pass by. Somehow, after talking about everything from art to feminism to Venetian fables (she tells me a great one about the Rialto)- she leads me back to Campo San Stefano, where she is anxious to see the handsome Matteo. We eat gelato, fare un giro (take a turn/walk), and after some more chatting, she cleverly bids me farewell once we run into Matteo. He insists that I sit, and grabs me a drink (on the house, of course) as he cleans up for the night. He asks me about my day, tells me that he prefers Americans to the French (too stingy!), and I sip on more Prosecco as he cleans up. He also informs me that Thursday (giovedi) is his day off. Hint dropped. I thank him for the drink and head home, promising “ci vediamo…” (we’ll be seeing each other soon.) Buona Notte!
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Tom McNamara
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Great Blog
If you ever decide to abandon art, consider becoming a photo-journalist. What a great job you're doing on this blog - so descriptive!! I had a hunch it was only a matter of time before you had an encounter with the 2008 version of Marcello Mastroianni.