I spent the days leading up to my family's arrival exploring the island city of Venezia. On Friday morning, everyone in my program boarded a bus for our last all-program trip of the semester. After a three hour bus ride, we arrived to a Venice coated in fog and mystery. All 40 of us huddle in to a private vaporetto, chartered from the Piazza Roma to Murano. In Murano, we attend the token glass blowing demonstration, and see a master make a crystal clear horse with minimal effort. Predictably, the demonstration ends in a gift shop cluttered with 5,000 euro chandeliers that would be considered a masterpiece in aristocratic living rooms around the world. Winding our way past Murano glass shops, we exit the factory into a world of bottle stoppers, necklaces, ink pens, and Bart Simpson replicas. There are even miniature Santas guiding glass gondolas, yours for the price of 30 euro.
The vaporetto takes us to the main island, dropping us a few blocks from the great domes of Santa Maria alla Salute. The hotel, clearly a notch up from the hostels of past weeks, is nothing special. A few of the rooms have five single beds and one clear-door shower in the middle of the room, as if to create an ampitheatre of privacy invasion.
The next stop is Piazza San Marco and Palazzo Ducale, home of the Doge, leader of the Venetian Republic from its founding until the tyranny of Napoleon. In a palace emblazoned with lions representing the patron saint, Mark the Evangelist, we are given a tour by a proud Venetian who tells of a unique history so different from that of the mainland- a history independent from the Vatican's constraints, instead, influenced by Byzantine contacts and an extensive Navy, that at one time dominated the word's seas. As a sign of the uniqueness of this palace, there are no frescoes. The Venetian humidity renders the art mastered by the Florentines futile. Instead, enormous canvases dominate the interior, displaying scenes of Venetian naval victory.
Following the tour, we bypass the overpriced caffes on the piazza, famous though they may be, and find a gondolier offering a shuttle across the grand canal for 50 cents. We take him up on his offer, enjoying a ride just long enough to snap one photo, yet memorable enough to be one of the trip's highlights.
That night, we have the privilege of entering San Marco for a private tour- free from the clutter of tourists and the condescending forced hushes that mar the beauty of the Sistine Chapel. Predictably, we get lost on the way there. Venice is no easy city to navigate. To say that a place is "by the water" is in many cities to reveal its general location. In Venice, it is to confuse and confound the inexperienced tourist. Just as the doors are being locked, we reach the Cathedral and are allowed in.
San Marco is best known for its immense domes, its shimmering Byzantine mosaics, and its famous tomb, housing the bones of Saint Mark underneath a gem-studded altar. Entering the church in darkness, we stumble to our seats as the lights slowly come up. It is as if we are at one of the Fenice's famous operas, but tonight, there is no music. The lights grow brighter, revealing a mosaic ceiling compiled through the centuries, with medieval portrayals of Christ and the last judgement and baroque portrayals of the New Testament. Intertwined in the artistic continuity is a moving story of Christ's redemption and promise of salvation. A far cry from the haunting Dantesque scenes of the Florentine Baptistry, San Marco is truly inspiring. At the same time, the overabundance of jewels, rubies, gems, emeralds, and gold leaf leave one pondering if it was truly Christian of the church to hoard its riches on earth. Perhaps just this once, it was justified, for I have toured few places more spiritually powerful than the most famous Venetian church.
Overwhelmed with eyes turned as gilded as the ceiling, we snake past the bridges and narrow sidewalks of the City of Falling Angels, back to the hotel.
day 1.
No comments:
Post a Comment