Why Do I Like Venice?

For me, Venice was love at first sight. It was late October - jacket weather. After an overnight flight from New York, my plane landed early in the morning at Marco Polo airport. After deplaning, I immediately headed toward the Vaporetti area carrying only a backpack. I took the slow moving water taxi to the Piazza San Marco and it was magical. As I made my way through the tight streets and over the tiny arched bridges to the North end of the city to find a room for the night, I gazed in amazement at the absolute splendor of one of the most beautiful and well preserved Renaissance cities in the world.

I had heard about the smell, the pigeons, the pigeon feces, the crumbling stone facades, the ankle deep periodic flooding, the mold, the dampness, and the incessant crowds of rude day tourists. But none of that mattered as the beauty, the wonder, and romance of the ancient city state overwhelmed my senses and filled me with a peculiar familiarity. My ancestors on my father's side came from the Po River Valley in Northern Italy and while I have no knowledge that any of them lived in Venice, I felt so comfortable and in alignment with this place, that it felt like coming home.

Taking the advice of a veteran traveler, I stayed on the island overnight. After six P.M., vast majority of tourists leave for modern hotels on the mainland, leaving only the locals and the adventurous ambling through the dark alleys.

I left my little hotel room shortly after six and and made my way back through the tight Venetian streets toward the Rialto Bridge. I remembered a quaint little bar just past the bridge and I was determined to find it at some point that evening to determine what went on there after dark.

Along the way, I stopped at several small bacaris (wine bars) over flowing with locals. For the price of a glass of wine, you could eat all the free (and delicious) finger foods you wanted and visit with real Venetians.

As darkness came, a light rain began to fall and I walked close to the sides of the narrow streets so as to take advantage of any over head cover. I found the little bar just past the Rialto Bridge, up a side alley, just as I remembered. A warm light poured through the window and into the cobblestone alley. As I approached, I could see that the joint was bustling.

I made my way to the bar and asked for a "vino rosso." As I settled in, I realized the two guys on my left were stone masons from Ireland and consequently spoke a familiar dialect. I learned that they were temporally working in the city and making the most of their expense accounts. They were getting "pissed" in the British sense of the word and encouraging me to do the same. On my right was seated a distinguished looking gentlemen and as it turned out, he was a German Congressmen with more than a few interesting stories to tell.

After visiting with the stone masons, the congressmen, and a couple of Delta Stewardesses seated behind me for a couple hours, I left the tiny bar and walked again out into the dark Venetian street and headed for my room. The light rain was still falling and as I gazed at the old bridges, stone buildings, and quiet canals, I couldn't help feeling like I was on a movie set or had somehow traveled back in time. In my inebriated state, I was sure Shylock would step out from a dark alcove and demand a pound of my red wine impregnated flesh.

The next day, I think I walked every foot of that series of bridge connected islands. Around every corner was something interesting. At one point, I simply sat in a quiet tiny square surrounding by Renaissance era buildings and tried to imagine the days when the the locals filled buckets of water from the now capped well in the center of the piazza. It was a great visit.

Venice to me represents the possibilities of capitalism. In it's day, Venice was among the most beautiful, most cultured, wealthiest, most educated, and most cosmopolitan cities in the world... and it's build on a swamp. The city rose from a desolate boggy lagoon during one of the most depressing periods of world history (the middle ages) to a powerful, world class opulent city state because of mercantilism.

Amazingly, it wasn't build by a monarch as a monument to himself as most pre-Renaissance cities often were. No, Venezia, for the most part, was built by working class people, smugglers, pirates, traders, sailors, merchants, bankers, and businessmen that worked hard, took risks, and got rich. Common people greedily working to further their own self interest and in the process creating cultural phenomenon that would enrich and enlighten the world.

Venice also reminds me of the close relationship between art and business. Without the riches produced by the Venetian merchants, that place would probably still be a desolate bog. For the better or worse, art and commerce are locked in a perpetual wrestling match for the hearts and minds of the masses. Artists sell ideas, businessmen sell products. Artists are concerned with the conceptual, the ideal, the possible, business men are interested in the practical, the deliverable, the measurable. Artists work for love and vindication, businessmen work for profit. Businessmen give you what you want, Artists give you what they believe you should have.

To me, Venice represents what is possible when businessmen and artisans work together for mutual benefit - the highest evolution of commercial art.