Venetian Dreams: An Introduction

Being a child of water, I used to marvel over the idea of Venice. A city built on H two O, where the sun glistens on ripples and ripples create calm. The vision in my mind was fantastical. If it courted romance, it was the romance of life. For I’m in love with life and that I can’t deny.

I marvel at life. I cry for life. I fear losing it more than anything else on earth. My heart and mind are so enamoured that it hurts. It hurts in the best kind of way. I want to live for a thousand years, or maybe more. I want to touch, smell and see the world every day, forever.

I want to paddle oars between buildings that should never exist, in a beautiful place, alone. All the while, and in my dreams, a gentle sun is there and it’s warming the nape of my neck.

Over time, my Venetian dream faded like an old photograph.

Fantastical places attract people, people attract greed, and the fairy-tale becomes a parody of what it once was. The gondola becomes a desperate attempt to feed a relationship, a relationship that is withering because of compromise and false hope. The city becomes expensive, and instead of supporting real life, it supports an ‘idea’ and the commercialisation of that idea.

Yet, Venice remains fantastical. The historic city of Venice (Centro storico) is shabby and it smells. The cafes, restaurants and museums are overpriced. The bread is dry, hard and powdery. Dog poo litters the pavements. Centro storico sells its past in the form of ugly masks and dull artefacts. Selling love like a commodity, Centro storico has forgotten how to love itself. It has forgotten how to love its guests.

One hundred and eighteen small islands form Venice or Venezia, and the fact it is a city at all is a miracle of humankind. Water laps directly against buildings. Slowly houses, hotels and businesses, built where flood plains, shallow waters, or marshes might be, are submerged or washed away.

Alleyways, bridges and boats: these are the means to mobility. Cars? No. Vans? No. Motorbikes? No. Bicycles? Not really.

To get about one must use waterbuses, traghettos, water taxis and feet. To get to hospital an ambulance boat will take you, with screaming sirens and relentless waves. Cliff might turn to sand, battered by the emergency wash, but buildings appear to remain. The Grand Canal snakes through Venice’s heart. Away from it, motorboats are far fewer.

With no road traffic, the city centre enjoys a rare peace. One can meander quietly and without pause. It’s easy to miss this pleasure until you leave the islands and see busy roads for the first time in days. Cars create anxiety and their absence allows calm.

The temperature in February is comparable to that in the South Coast of England. While England cooled off in the snow, and my friends stayed home from work, Venice grimaced in soggy and sometimes horizontal sleet. The wet weather melted on impact, and the wind ensured that bones would freeze. Even the museums were cold, truly cold.

Where is the hospitality? The hospitality is away from the centre, St Mark’s and hotels. It is in the waterbuses, the lagoon islands and the Peggy Guggenheim museum. The posts that follow will provide an account of my three days in Venice. I hope that you enjoy sharing the experience with me.

Part 2 is here: Venetian Dreams: Water Buses and Islands


Fabpants Recommends: With a V for Venice theme in mind, I would like to start nostalgically with two tracks from Velvet Underground. It’s easy to forget how great The Violent Underpants truly were.

Download MP3: The Velvet Underground – I’m Sticking With You (courtesy of glogster.com)



Download MP3: The Velvet Underground – Pale Blue Eyes (courtesy of anyones-guess.com)




Now that you’re all settled in a sweet and gentle place, it’s time for some melon twisting. Melon twisting will keep you young.

Beirut have a new album out. It’s made up of 2 EPs. It’s rather tasty and it’s rather odd. It’s called March of the Zapotec / Realpeople: Holland. My Middle School’s Brass Band appears on it. Okay, it doesn’t. I like to pretend it does. It makes it even odder to listen to. I imagine children in red and white uniforms and a mad conductor. Whatever you think of Beirut, and I’m not sure myself when I listen to this collection, you have to admit that it's a curious challenge. I rather like this little number. Listen to the full release if you want to lose your mind.

Download MP3: Beirut – My Wife (courtesy of wordpress.com)




On a more not ‘old enough to be jaded’ note, I am enjoying the return of Flobots to the UK without actually seeing them. Sadly, I missed their Brighton gig last Friday. I bet it was marvellous.

Download MP3:Flobots – We are Winning (sorry, this link has died)


By the way, now I have it - in its full format - YES YES YES - I can’t get enough of Marissa Nadler’s new album. Mistress is currently my favourite track. I can’t find it out there in MP3 format to stream. You’ll have to buy the album, you lucky sods. I already posted ‘River of Dirt’ from the album, so I hope you listened.