Manoeuvring a two-wheel 25 lbs luggage, a stuffed to the brim backpack and a fanny pack in 27 degrees under the merciless sun in a stuffed station is never a good idea. After dodging a few unfortunate passersby, unintentionally of course, my friend and I made it out of the Venice Santa Lucia train station sweaty but relieved to have finally made it! We were ready to start our vacation. What a sight it was! The Grand Canal lay before us, buzzing with life and conversations, the water a striking blue, the houses and establishments decorated in lively colors, and the sun — which had seemed harsh and unforgiving a few minutes ago, now seemed to have blanketed the whole world in brilliance. My friend and I hurried to dig out our phones which we had squashed to the bottom of our bags in wary of pickpockets to capture our version of the sight in front of us. We also promised ourselves that we would return a week later, before our return flight, and spend an enjoyable sunset at the steps of the Canal. When we returned a week later, the sun was no longer shining and the crowds seemed to have thin, with a chill blanketing us all. We had missed our chance.
— -
My friend and I were buzzing like bees when we boarded our flight to Venice with 8 hours of sleep amongst us and bone tired from three back-to-back strenuous three days of five-hour exams. None of that mattered because we were going to spend 8 days in Italy, walking along quaint streets, living in history, eating loads of gelato and my personal favourite — gnocchi.
Our first two days passed in a whirlwind, trying to settle ourselves in Venice for the night and to catch an early train to Rome the early next morning.
On our first day in Rome, we decided to walk the 3 kms to the Palatine Hill, Roman Forum, and Pantheon for a day of ruins. I think I spent 90% of my walk looking up with my eyes as big as saucers rather than watch where I was going, as I had been religiously taught by my cautious parents. The walk seemed like a wonderous maze with a mystery at every corner. At every turn there was a cute coffee shop or a vibrant restaurant or a structure that seemed even more unique than the others it surrounded. While walking, a sudden shadow fell upon us which demanded our attention. We realized there were steep steps leading away from the middle of an otherwise inconspicuous street. The steps curved and were covered by a tunnel which obstructed the landing, making it all the more mysterious and alluring. I, obviously, could not resist and dragged my friend up to resolve the mystery. The steps were cool — a nice respite from the harsh Roman sun, and well worn to a smooth, polished finish from decades or perhaps centuries of foot traffic. It was quite perilous with steps as smooth as butter, and looming shadows of the tunnel blocking light.
Our journey though, proved to be fruitful because at the end of the landing we came to a beautiful, small piazza with a characteristic columnar structure at the centre, surrounded by small brick houses and establishments. The cherry on top was that one corner of it was open, however, which led to a magnificent view of the Colosseum itself! It was like in the movies, the crowds were sparse, and we looked upon the lines of people making their way up to the entrance. The structure confidently stood, comfortable in its ruin, sparkling under the sun and completely serene.
— -
Next stop: GELATO! It was the fourth day of our trip and I had yet to satisfy my gelato cravings. We decided that we would reward ourselves with gelato from a rather fancy shop we had been eyeing since the day before, after our climb to Piazzale Michelangelo for sunset. The Florentina sun was bright, yet soft. It sparkled on my skin and my spirits danced with the breeze. The closer we reached our destination, the shorter our breaths became and more sweat collected on our temples as we tried to hurriedly catch up with our spirits which felt as though had already somehow made it up to the Piazzale. While climbing the steps, I sent a prayer of thanks to the person who had had the forethought to plant shading trees on both sides of the steps. They were a very welcome respite during the climb. We finally heard the faint sound of bells from the San Salvotre al Monte church. It felt as though the timely bells were coronating our arrival to the Piazzale. There was music playing from a beautiful accordion, children running around, painters at work, lovers — lost in each others’ eyes, and others who were transfixed at the beauty of Florence at their feet. I was somehow both. Florence held mesmerized by the sight of its beauty, architecture basking in the soft glow of the golden hour nestled amongst the rolling Florentina hills; and felt love radiate from every pore of my body for the life which was mine that had allowed me such an experience. We watched the sunset in companionable sunset and let our thoughts speak for us; lulled to a hypnotic state by the melodious music, murmur of life and soothing breeze. That night, the gelato was more than just a pat on the back for the climb but rather the cherry on top to a delicious evening.
— -
Our trip came to a full circle as we returned to Venice, to spend a full day before we made it back to Toronto the next morning. We made a quick trip to Murano Island, before rushing through the Doge’s Palace before closure. The morning of our flight we walked to Rialto bridge for a final sunrise and a quiet photo op — because why not? We walked through alleys and small tunnels barely bigger than I. It felt as though the brick and mortar was trying to embrace me, share its secrets, provide me with shelter and shadow and leave a mark of its own. I found magic in lack of space as it allows you to truly focus on all the sharp turns, the smelly drains, but also the beautifully decorated windows and veranda. Sometimes, you can even catch a glimpse of life on the other side of the glass — not that I was snooping.
At arrival at Rialto, we found that even at 7 am on a Saturday, Venice is as lively as ever. The bridge was slowly starting to crowd, and people were going about their business; neighbours and families animatedly chatting away and spilling over to the sidewalk in chairs and makeshift benches. And I had assumed that morning would have been the least lively Italy, I would ever see.
— -
A couple months ago, I saw pictures of Venice, flooded to the knees, with an empty San Marco Plaza. Last week I saw a newspaper clipping with a shot of Venice in front of Rialto. I counted a grand total of there people in the shot. COVID-19 and the flood have seemed to have taken a toll on Venetian spirit. I wonder whether the cities would look as beautiful again. I worry whether we will be able to experience all that we had left behind half a year ago, with promises to relive the whole trip at 40.
— -
We were unable to return to the Grand Canal, so the day before leaving we decided to treat ourselves to a sunset in San Marco Plaza. There was a light lull to the sea as it slowed down at the end of a busy day. People were slowly making their way towards home or hotels for dinner, and vendors were closing their stalls. We were here seven days ago, witnessing a different scene. There was a chill to the temperature. But suddenly, as the evening darkened and sun set a little lower, all lamps lit up! We wrapped our scarves a little tighter around us and sat down to watch the scene unfold. The sun slowly made its way across the sky and dimmed in brightness. The lamps hurried to compensate. The music slowed down but there was a buzz of sighs of contentment from us weary travelers and likewise workers. The sky turned a darker shade of blue, beautiful contrast to the bright blue of the gondolas, and the sky didn’t glow but intensely darkened in shades from orange to blue to indigo. It wasn’t the sunset we longed to see from a week ago, but it blanketed us like a warm cover in a chilly night.
— -
This morning, a friend sent me a video captioned “a whole neighbourhood in Italy is singing to Rihanna while they’re on lockdown and self-quarantined”. They were loud, off-beat, incoherent, vibrant, and uplifting!
