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Sunday, July 3, 2011
In Which I Attend Mass No, I haven’t converted. And no, I really don’t have a reason for wanting to go to church on vacation. It was just something I wanted to do. A couple churches offer English service, so I attended mass at San Zulian Church. I followed the crowd and kneeled and stood and kneeled some more. Thanks to Hollywood, there was one prayer I actually knew. Something about “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” I gave myself an A for effort.
The preacher was a frail old man who coughed into the microphone half the time, and between his accent and the “I just want to get this over with” up-and-down rhythm of his voice, I really didn’t catch most of what was said. I think I got the message, which was unfortunately uninspiring. Christ’s assistance is not for the ordinary, so take life like a man and figure it out on your own. But don’t turn to the “dark side” when all your hard work to leaves you with crap. Your efforts are not in vein, probably.
It’s an Island, So You Can’t Go Far
Even when I try to follow the map, I end up somewhere else. And that’s how I found the Rialto Bridge. Watching the massive crowd, I could pick out the different groups of people. Locals had cell phones pressed to their ears. Tourists were walking with maps in front of their faces. And Americans were asking where the ticket booth to the underground tour was.
Aimlessly Wandering and Gelato I’ve come to accept that two things are sure in Venice: that I will get lost and that I will find gelato. Being lost only means you’re trying to get somewhere and can’t find it. To avoid this, I set off in the general direction of “that way” and wandered. The further away from the Rialto or the Duomo I got, the quieter the streets became, until I found myself walking completely alone. And then, when I was in need of refreshment, a gelato storefront magically appeared. I found a shady spot in a piazza apparently only used by locals and watched an old lady play fetch with her toy poodles.
Correr Museum Getting back to San Marco Square was easy. Just move until you see tourists speeding
past. Then just jump on the people highway and take the exit marked “San Marco.” Months ago I confirmed the ticket prices were as described in the guide book. Unfortunately, I never checked back and the prices increased significantly. I found this was a common theme throughout Italy so far, where ticket prices go up from €3 to €5, or €13 to €18 for Venice. Not much for one site, but it adds up over the whole trip.
The museum had an impressive collection from Venice’s history. The city was ruled by an elected Doge (Duke), and there were many paintings, centuries-old documents and other artifacts from these leaders. Venice and its Doges had huge egos and thought they were next to godliness. For example, in paintings of the city, where the island was surrounded by fancy galleys and private yachts, the sky above opened up to show God, Christ, and the iconic winged lion looking down on Venice from the heavens.
One of the Venetian flags featured the original Starbucks logo. The figure was a man, not a woman, but the figure had his fin-legs curled in opposite directions holding a scepter of some kind. Other rooms
contained a variety of Roman and Greek sculptures and Egyptian artifacts, including a couple mummies. I liked the Greek statues; they really celebrated their curvier women. Maybe I was born in the wrong millennium.
Another Gelato Break Ok, twice in a day may be a bit much, but I needed something to keep me going, and I just didn’t want a fast sandwich. But with all the walking I’ve been doing, I’d burn it off, maybe. My feet were killing me more than anything, so I sat on the steps of a building across from the Doge’s Palace and people watched.
Doge’s Palace This grand building sits adjacent to the basilica and was the home and political office of the Doge. The art was mediocre, but I was there to see the labyrinth of rooms. Everything was over-the-top, from fireplace surrounds, to ceiling art, to the trim around the doors. The finale of the palace was a huge hall 175 feet by 80 feet, larger than some of the piazzas in the city. Every wall was painted with the portraits of past Doges, and the ceiling depicted heavenly scenes. Behind the Doge’s seat was the largest oil painting
in the world and another example of the Venetian ego. Christ and Mary, and the Lion, look down at the room, surrounded by some 500 saints. The rays of light from the top figures filter down directly to the seat of the Doge, artificially illuminating the position with the light of heaven.
The tour continued to the prisons and the Bridge of Sighs. I did sigh as I crossed the bridge over to the prisons, because the view was of scaffolding and blue tarp. The cells were now clean and bare, but as I walked through the passageways and looked into the various rooms, I could imagine how this would have as barbaric as Hollywood portrays medieval dungeons. The one-way path took visitors back over the Bridge of Sighs, this time facing the opposite direction. The view was unobstructed and visitors looked out to the lagoon as they re-entered the palace. After the tour I sat on a shaded bench in the courtyard and let me feet rest.
San Marco by Night The crowds were strong and I so I forfeited additional sightseeing for the comforts of my room, where I napped until late in the evening. Refreshed,
I was ready for a stroll, and wandered back to San Marco square. The tourists had mostly gone and the pink street lamps were lit, and through the rose colored glow I saw the beauty of the square. I grabbed a dry sandwich from a café and sat on the steps and watched the crowd. The mini orchestras played popular songs, a drunk old lady tried to polka with her embarrassed husband, and small children ran in circles in the big empty space. It was a really nice end to the evening.
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