This was my first time across the pond, so to speak. When taking the train into Italy from Munich, Germany, I noticed how the landscape had changed, from urban sprawl, to towering jagged mountains, to soft rolling hillsides. In Italy, the land seemed lush, and the buildings were...well....lets just say...well loved. Well loved is a maternal term. Mothers use it to describe their children's preferred toy, favorite pair of jeans, beloved blanket, etc. The child's favorite item was once a picture of perfection, beautiful and clean, and now, it looks like something you would fetch out of the garbage. But in your child's eye it's as beautiful as the day they received it. That sums Venice up for me.When walking through the modern train station and down the sprawling steps to the vaporetto (water taxi) I was very tired and hungry. Then boarding the boat, I noticed how packed it was. So many travelers, business people, families, all crammed on to a wet, smelly boat. The stench of fish encompassed the boat. That pretty much stifled any appetite I had brewing. The murky water was nasty looking and the weather was rainy. Not what I had in mind for the most romantic city in the world. As we floated down the Grand Canal, I noticed that the buildings looked, for lack of a better term and using my 6 year-old daughters terminology, gross. Yes, gross. They appeared to be in a severe state of decay. The mortar is falling out from between the bricks. The plaster is crumbling and exposing the bricks underneath. The paint is peeling. My first impression was the city looks like a sea-side slum. I was in a state of complete and utter shock. I couldn't believe for a moment that this sight I was taking in was supposed to be romantic? Are you kidding me? I've seen neighborhoods in Gary, Indiana that looked more romantic than this place. Much less, I'm on a stinky, smelly boat, packed in with 100 other people who look so depressed that at any moment they may decide to take matters into their own hands and jump overboard. I felt I was drifting along on a pointless journey in a glorified slum.
When we reached our stop, I trudged off the boat and began walking through an endless maze of sidewalks, alleyways and narrow corridors. Oddly, my mood was lightening with every step. As evening arrived, I was completely in love, with Venice, of course. My husband, his sister, her husband and I took an evening stroll through the streets of Venice on our way to dinner. This special city had definitely grown on me by this time of the day. My spirits were lifted, and my mood was perky. The weather had shaped up as well. It had stopped raining, although the streets were still wet. I can't help but call the sidewalks, streets and vice versa. For the record, there are no cars, bicycles or scooters in Venice. There are only two modes of transportation: feet and boat. That's it. Because of this the city is so quiet. You can hear someone cough several blocks away. Venice is built on an archipelago, a chain of 118 islands, formed by approximately 150 canals in a shallow lagoon. The walk ways (a.k.a. sidewalks and/or streets, whatever you choose to call them) are built above the water, all the while they're seamlessly attached to the buildings that they travel to. By walking the streets, you would never know that you were only feet, sometimes inches above the water. You can't see it, you can't hear it. The only time you see the water is when crossing a bridge or when you're on the bank of a canal, unless, of coarse it's high water season, which is when we visited.
In the fall, the water levels of Venetian Lagoon rise, flooding most of the outlying streets. The city provides risers on which to walk to avoid the water. Many tourists, however, enjoy rolling up their pant legs and walking through the water anyway. There is a much debated topic in Venice as to whether the city is sinking or the waters of the lagoon are rising, perhaps a bit of both. Although seeing old staircases under water on the Grand Canal suggest the city is sinking.
As my first day was drawing to a close, my scowl was a smile. My looming grey cloud of grouchiness was pleasantness. I even spoke a bit of Italian to a Venetian. I held my head high, straightened my back and smiled as I asked him, "Dove il bagno?" I felt so impressed with myself. I have spoken Italian to an actual Italian. How sophisticated am I? That was until he answered me in a seemingly endless stream of words that to this day I can not decipher. But for a moment I felt Venetian! Then as I walked a few yards down, I asked another man the same question. This time my back was not so straight and my head not so high, but I managed to utter "Dove il bagno?" He kindly answered in English, pointing and saying that there was a bathroom on the next street over.
The previously decided "severe state of decay" has rapidly become in my mind a vision of beauty, almost too beautiful for words. I can't describe the feeling I had when I was walking around the city. I began to realize that Venice had to literally fight for all that it is today. Due to its geographical location, on the rim of the Adriatic Sea, Venice was invaded numerous times over hundreds of years. And she has remained in tact. Sure a few walls have paint peeling and a little mortar missing, but she is still here as one. It's almost as if the deteriorating walls say to all who see them, "You may try to invade me, take my riches, and capture my people, but I will still stand."
The endless shops in Venice are such a treat. Every popular fashion designer has a modern, sleek store, which is in contrast to the ancient facade of Venice. The city is known for handmade Venetian masks, as well as so many other trades like glass making, handmade lace and hand crafted paper. Venice is famous for so many things; the gondolas, St. Marks Basilica, Venetian Film Festival, The Venice Art Biennale, simple yet elegant foods, and yes, romance. But, I believe the most treasured aspect of Venice is the architecture. At first it was the architecture that put me off, but in the end it is what draws me back and tugs at my heartstrings. Venice may be sinking, crumbling, peeling and falling to the lagoon, but the rustic, romantic nature of the city will take your breath away.
By: Kris Shebel
Christina "Kris" Shebel has been writing short stories and poetry since childhood, most recently for a private school as their Public Relations Liaison. Writing is a creative outlet for Kris to share her snappy, chatty writing style and quirky sense of humor with others. She lives in rural Michigan City, Indiana with her husband and their daughter and enjoys spending time with her family and two dogs and two cats.
