Railways and trains, watching fragments of I'm Not There, left me no track into this city's psyche. I'm only 21, and I haven't been to most places, but so far, Venice is the by far the most unique place I've ever seen. The ultimate tourist zone, barely anyone lives on the hundreds of islands anymore, but it's profoundly calming to be encouraged to get lost in the alleys between buildings, or over the bridges, and not once see any motor vehicles. The grass as protected in the few front yards of the residents, and the smells of fish compete with the restaurants on the Grand Canal. The ways around the city are so confusing that it's near impossible to find a free map, so for most of the day I had none, and followed the group, but after St. Mark I went on my own and found, of all places, a Best Western with a microprint map of the city.
Where did we go? Well, we found our hostel by waterbus and by miracle, since someone staying there passed us by. The place could have been put together in a day. It was in an old building, of course, with an office of a table with computers stealing internet from another network, in a large room. The good ews was free dinner and breakfast! We dropped off our stuff and got going.
From a Jewish historical perspective, the first ghetto (Italian) was established in Venice, so it was essential I get to that area. However, traditionally, it was the last two days of Passover, so I anticipated everything would be closed. We walked first to a teeny pasta place, where I finished the muffins I bought in Florence, and then we went to the Ghetto. Right outside one of the entrances, which basically cut through buildings, we found a Kosher restaurant. What's more, it was OPEN. What do you know? I stepped inside, but there was no turning back. We had found Chabad, and Chabad had now found us. They begged us to come in for a little food, we said we had a tight schedule. They promised a five minute meal. Forty-five minutes later we had consumed hot and watery but well seasoned chicken soup, chicken and veggies, and a ton of extra cardboard flavored matzah. I talked a while with one of the guys there, who was learning to become a Rabbi. There was a Chabad Yeshiva nearby, as well as five Synagogues, but only one was in use. Also, there were really three ghettos, an old one, a newer one, built about fifty years after the first, and another small one. We walked inside, and took some pictures of the Synagogue doors and Holocaust memorials. It was all we could do to avoid staying the afternoon. Those guys have tight grips.
From the Ghetto we went looking for St. Mark's the major landmark of Venice. We did so by way of a gondola ride. It was...pleasant:
Also on the way I found something commedia del 'artsy for Shoshboat. The basilica was huge at St. Mark
And then there were pigeons. Someone got the idea to feed the birddies with the Matza I had shchlepped all over Italy, and they had accumulated at Chabad. The birds appreciated the feast. Then the group returned to the hostel and I went to climb the tower. Well, climb isn't the right word. I was expecting another 463 steps, but found none, just an elevator. I ascended the tower, got a beautful view of the city, and then heard the bells ring! That was borderline traumatic. There was just one bell used in the tower, and others nearby, but this one bell was so powerful I understood why there were bars on all the lookouts. Those left on top had their hands in their ears, and others ran into the elevator. It was pretty funny.
I then took an hour to get back to the hostel since I had to first find a map (until then I used one I had taken a picture of, on my camera) and recognize I was given the wrong location of the hostel. However by the time I got back, it was dark out, and dinner was just about ready. Since I have a place in Israel, I only have to celebrate 7 days of Passover, while everyone in Italy and outside of Israel, depending on denomination, observe eight. Especially in Venice I came to realize how richly I had been living, strolling the classical streets,exploring the well preserved relics of antiquity in Rome, but the whole time while eating poorly, meaning not a lot and nothing special, just crackers and chocolate mostly. That ended tonight, and it wasn't until my fourth of fifth mouthful of pasta that I realized I was finally eating genuine Italian food, without limit. It was indescribable. Later that night, I got my first gelatto, capping the cone with the clean breeze of the deeply enlightened skies.
Venice Pics
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