Perfect Harmony in Venezia

Our first two journeys to Italy have left us with so many rich and powerful memories that even now, back in Chicago on a cold and snowy morning--in an empty school, with the white streets of Evanston nearly deserted--when I call up images of Italia in my mind, I am carried back in time and relive the sense of wonder and fulfillment that Italy inspires. It's been said that the world is a big place, and that certainly is true. We intend to see a lot of this big world in our time, but if the world is a big place, than Italy is an enormous place--at least for us.

The next few posts will seek to capture some of our favorite memories of Italia, with the hope that they strike a universal chord, reveal something of the essence of each place, and encourage readers to travel to Italy soon to create their own.

Perfect Harmony in Venezia
Venice on a hot July day 2008, late afternoon. Dana had taken a siesta back at Locanda al Leon, and I grabbed the vaporetto from San Marco to San Giorgio Maggiore to take the elevator to the top of the campanile for the view. Afterwards, I explored a bit of Dorsoduro, and found a small restaurant inhabited by locals for our dinner later that evening. I had one cold birra alla spina and promised the bartender I'd be back later for dinner with my wife. When I returned to San Marco, I knew I was running late, and so hurried off the boat and headed up the bridge that faces the Bridge of Sighs. As I dodged colorful tourists that seemed to come at me from all directions on the bridge, many blinded by the cameras they held to their eyes as they attempted to walk, I heard Dana's voice call out, slowly, turning a bi-syllabic word into multiple syllables, "G-i-o! G-i-o!" She was standing at the top of the bridge, leaning out over the water, where the Grand Canal meets the lagoon. Her back was to the side of the pedestrian bridge facing the Bridge of Sighs, where it is said prisoners doomed to life in a dark, damp basement cell--or a public execution between the pilars at Piazetta San Marco--caught their final glimpse of this glorious city, and bid it farewell.

She had been in that position for some time, staring out over the complex and beautiful painting that is Venezia, waiting for me. The imagery was mesmerizing to her: the chaotic but also heavenly and serene Canale Grande (only in Italia can something truly be both chaotic and serene), the hazy, dreamlike islands hovering eerily in the distant lagoon, the gigantic, even monstrous cruise ships turning slowly, sadly, out to sea, completely out of proportion with their surroundings, and the hordes of hot, tired, spent tourists determined to seek shelter from the oppressive heat and humidity in their hotels for a few hours before dinner.

I'll always remember the sound of her voice calling me from the top of the bridge, above the sounds of Venice on a summer day. I could pick her voice out of a crowd of five-thousand, if I had to (and I have), but this was different. Her voice didn't cut through the tumult of souvenir peddlers hawking straw hats or gondoliers shouting at one another along the nearby pier about God knows what; instead, it seemed to emerge from the din as if it belonged to the sounds of Venice, the way sweet harmonies emerge, bringing out even more beauty and depth in a lead singer's voice. That's the only word for it, really: it was such a beautiful sound, with just a note of surprise, a half measure of excitement, a half measure of joy, and such perfect harmony.

Dana will always remember the stunning scene before her...lively deep green water, lengthening black shadows, boats of all shapes and sizes, San Giorgio Maggiore seemingly walking on water and touching the clouds at the same time, the old customs house standing guard over it all, black gondolas bobbing up and down as if keeping time, the eager crowd passing with nervous energy just behind her, even pressing up against her as it passed by...and spotting me, emerging from that scene as if I'd just stepped out of one of those rich colorful paintings by Titian at the Guggenheim.

That moment, the sound of my wife's voice in perfect harmony with the sounds of Venice, and the beautiful scene unfolding before her eyes on the bridge with me emerging from it all, will last forever. And we can replay it in our minds anytime we like, even six months later, on a cold and wintry December day in the American Middle West. We both know we need to go back to Venezia one day, we just have to.

And that's what Venice can do for you.