Showing posts with label Venice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Venice. Show all posts

Saturday, December 9, 2017

United Nations Mandates "Sustainable Tourism"

Venice, Canal Grande
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2016
During my twenty-two visits to Venice, I saw and heard the frustration and disdain locals have for tourists. We were not just an imposition in their daily lives, crowding their beloved city, their favorite restaurants, water buses, museums, operas, blocking their narrow alleys, their canals, and often entrances to their apartments. We caused wakes with our huge cruise ships and further destruction to their already fragile buildings, infrastructure, and ecosystem.

But we were a necessary evil that helped many Venetians live off tourism. They complained about Americans who trekked yearly by millions to see La Serenissima, yet have allowed economic refugees to invade and take over their businesses. We were even blamed for their demographic suicide.

The group Italia Nostra (Our Italy) wants the Italian government to ban cruise ships in the harbor and to require large groups to book their visit ahead of time. Posters around the city make it abundantly clear that some residents do not welcome tourists at all. Academia predicts that “the native population could be zero as early as 2030.” Apparently cruise ship visitors increased five-fold and rents have increased accordingly, making it impossible for locals to afford a place in the city.  

I know that apartments in Venice and elsewhere in Italy are passed on from generation to generation, few renters move away. Apartments are seldom available for rent and it has little to do necessarily with the influx of tourists. Perhaps this may be true for potential new Italian residents who wish to move into the city. Like any metropolitan area, especially one so desired, rent is going to be high no matter what the circumstances.

According to Condé Nast Traveler, the famous Santorini Island in the Cyclades began in 2017 limiting the cruise ship visitors to 8,000 per day during the peak season. https://www.cntraveler.com/galleries/2015-06-19/barcelona-bhutan-places-that-limit-tourist-numbers?mbid=social_facebook_aud_dev

If the United Nations succeeds in their desired control and implementation of “sustainable tourism” around the globe, Venetians may get their wishes sooner than they had planned.
And, like everything else the United Nations does very badly, the “sustainable tourism” control will wind up hurting Greeks or Venetians more than whatever damage Americans and Mother Nature itself may have caused to their fragile eco-system, waterways, and way of life. 

If you have wondered if there is any area that the U.N. technocrats might not wish to control, the answer is no. They now want to control tourism by adding it to the U.N. 2030 Agenda as “sustainable tourism.”

In case you are wondering how the U.N. can do this, bypass the U.S. Constitution and Congress, how can they regulate and control tourism, remember how, at the local level and without any legislative input from Congress, United Nations has been able to implement its Agenda 21/2030 via property rights modifications at the local and state government level, using progressive realtors, architects, local politicians, “visioning” committees, ICLEI, other regional planning committees and the excuse of global warming, Smart Growth, Green Growth, and Sustainable Development, the lynchpin of U.N.’s 1992 Agenda 21.

From page 8 of the Sustainable Tourism document, “Governments need to enact laws to make the respect for human rights binding for companies and investors working nationally and internationally and to ensure access to legal remedies, as stipulated in the U.N. Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights.”https://www.tourism-watch.de/files/2030_agenda_internet_en_0.pdf

The United Nations has found tourism as a novel way to milk the capitalist system of money. This 16-page brochure explains that tourism is “one of the most important economic sectors worldwide, with one of the highest growth rates.” Using globalism and environmentalism, U.N. and its third world affiliates in need of more free cash infusions, seek to control this resource as well because, in the process of tourism, first world travelers cause serious CO2 emissions, “with serious consequences for climate change.”(p. 5)

It does not matter that their half-baked scare-mongering theory and tactics have been proven wrong time and time again, they continue with the global warming alarmism, with no backing of real science, just “consensus.”

Companies, investors, governments, and World Tourism Organizations focus on the positive economic effects of tourism. “The 2030 Agenda, however, combines poverty alleviation and sustainability, economic development, environmental and social justice.” Tourists will be thus controlled and travelers will have to pony up more taxes to eradicate world poverty.

U.N. seeks to transform tourism by designing it at the local level in such a way that they can control anybody and any entity engaged in tourism, including the global strategy of emissions reductions, especially in international aviation and shipping. The bottom line, consumers will be picking up the tab and will be fleeced for their tourism. (p. 8)

U.N. aims to reduce carbon emissions by abolishing any “subsidies for climate-damaging means of transport and sources of energy and by forcing prices to reflect “the real costs, including social and ecological costs.” (p. 8)

According to A. J. Cameron, “they will use every means possible to achieve their selfish, unlawful, immoral, and inhumane agenda. They use market-tested verbiage to obfuscate their ultimate agenda. Erik Schmidt thinks most people are stupid, and, unfortunately, the majority of people prove him to be correct. There is nothing good about the U.N., yet it keeps advancing the agenda against little push back by Americans. Never underestimate the greed and lust some men and women have for everything everyone else has!”

Tourism is the new vehicle to swindle Americans and U.N.’s third world bureaucrats know this. Since 1992 Rio conference, technocrats from 178 countries have worked feverishly and tirelessly toward the goal of globalist control under the U.N. umbrella, in-between champagne and caviar dinners at conferences they attend regularly in the world’s most desired tourist destinations, flying in jets spewing their carbon footprint and CO2.

 

Sunday, October 2, 2016

Venice, Lido Island, and Padova

Fondamente Nuove street
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2016
We lost our way through narrow and dark streets, barely big enough for a tall person to walk through. The streets were old, decayed with time, yet sturdy and lasting. I was worried that someone would decide to throw their bath water out the window into the narrow alleys. It was possible, given the patina and stench we encountered from time to time. Generally, Italians are very clean with their surroundings, fastidiously sweeping the street in front of their homes and shops, but the arrivals from third world countries are not so kind to their environment.

One of the narrow passageways in Venice
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2016

We finally reached Rialto and had our slice of pizza at the foot of the bridge while people and boat watching, sitting on the cold steps. Dave bought an oil painting for 20 euros, a good size to pack in the suitcase, the same painting we could have bought further away for 15 euros. The painter said, it will rain tomorrow and he will not get customers at all, as he cannot display his canvasses in the rain. We bought one from him as well.

One of the Venetian churches, Chiesa di San Vidal, was advertising on the door a free lecture by Fausto Bertinotti, pushing the Pope's global warming platform with his encyclical, Laudato Si.

Poster on Church of San Vidal's door
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2016
 
Shop window
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2016
 
Narrow walkway to a church
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2016
 
My favorite jewelry store in Rialto
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2016
 
One of two oil paintings we bought in Venice
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2016
 
We went back to my favorite jewel shop and found two pairs of cuff links for Dave. A gorgeous turquoise ring in 18k gold was calling my name. I don’t know why the color of turquoise makes me happy, unlike any other stone, including diamonds. We walked alongside the Grand Canal, watching a portly sea gull come very close to us, begging for food, a German couple eating stuff out of a vending machine, probably traveling on a budget or just plain stingy.

Lido Island and hotel Panorama on the right
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2016
 
Lido Island on a sunny day
Photo credit: Wikipedia Commons
 
Water lines on buildings in Venice
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2016
 
Gondolas were floating by; the dusk is a lovely and romantic time to take a ride in the black, seemingly flimsy but very sturdy boats. To my surprise, three Muslim women I saw earlier dining alone on the left bank in an outdoor restaurant we happened to walk by, their colorful burkas were hard to miss, boarded a gondola for a ride. There was no Muslim male in sight to accompany them.

Very narrow canal near Ponte Rialto
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2016
 
Grand Canal near water bus stop
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2016
 
The famous Ponte dei Sospiri
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2016
 
We took the water bus the long way back to our hotel on Lido Island, a total of 13 stops. It was a marvelous opportunity to see more palazzos on the Grand Canal and take more pictures. We made it by 8 p.m., dropped off the paintings, and headed for the last cozy dinner at Gran Viale. The table for two was outside, but it was covered by plastic, a typical way to keep the cold Mediterranean night winds at bay. My favorite dish was the appetizer comprised of polenta mixed with pureed fish – it was divine, tiny, and expensive, 16 euros.

One last image on the Grand Canal on the way back to Lido
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2016
 
We woke up on Lido Island the following morning to the sound of rain drumming on the tiled roof and to foggy air, just like the street painter had told us. We had our leisurely breakfast in a comfortable but tiny solarium overlooking the lagoon. The Panorama Hotel had its pluses but I still thought it was three stars, pretending to be four. We were too exhausted every night to care about the number of stars as long as the bed was comfortable, with clean and pressed sheets.

Lido Island of Venice is a 7-mile long sandbar which is home to 20,000 residents. It is where the Venice Film Festival takes place every September in the northern part of the island.  There is a public airport, Venezia Lido, on the north east end of the island that brings in wealthy foreigners who own small planes that can land on the 1,000 mile grass runaway.

There are three settlements: the Lido in the north where the film festival takes place and the Venice Casino and the Grand Hotel Excelsior are located; the center part called Malamocco is where the Doge of Venice used to have a home; the southern end is called Alberoni and has a golf course. Rich people must have their golf no matter where they are. Buses run alongside the island on Main Street.

On the Adriatic side of Lido there are sandy beaches belonging to various hotels and they are private. There are large public beaches too on the northern and the southern ends of the island. The famous Excelsior and the Des Bains hotels are located here. Thomas Mann’s classic novel, Death in Venice, took place here. The water is clean save for the occasional jelly fish that disturb the swimmers. The water is still pretty cold in April-May.

The clock tower from the lagoon
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2016
 
But the heart of the island is Gran Viale Santa Maria Elisabetta, a wide street 700 m long that runs from the lagoon and vaporetto stop on one side across to the sea on the other. There are many hotels, small shops, a modern grocery store, the first I have seen in Venice, and touristy restaurants that also cater to locals in a much more caring and special way as I observed on many occasions.

We packed our suitcases again and lined up the car at 11 a.m. for our 11:40 ferry ride back to terra firma. The ferry pass for the car was 21 euros but our passes were still valid until 8:30 p.m. The ferry ride was quite different from four nights ago. I took some spectacular photos of San Marco square, the Campanile, the Bridge of Sighs, and other Venetian landmarks.

We saw Lido Island and our Panorama hotel one last time before we crossed the bridge to the main highway heading west. It made leaving Venice a lot easier as the lagoon was encased into a foggy mist and it was cold and damp.

Last view of the Port of Venice
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2016
 
Dave drove west in the pouring rain for 49 km. We took the exit to Padova after we stopped at an Autogrill to refuel. Padova was, in many ways, a decision we quickly regretted. The city appeared very much industrial and modern, peppered with several old churches, villas, and the oldest square in Italy.

Almost too dark for photos in the rainy Venice
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2016
A young motorcyclist who drove fast like a maniac wiped out in the driving rain, his motorcycle skidded sideways and he laid it down scraping the ground in a sickening metal screech. He was unhurt, thank God. We decided right away that we did not want to stay very long in Padova. Our decision was confirmed by the extended wait at a rail road crossing where three freight trains were struggling to chug along.

Padova’s most important claim to fame is the University of Padova, founded in 1222, where Galileo Galilei was a lecturer. The dense arcaded streets opening into “piazze” and the bridges crossing various branches of the river Bacchiglione made the city picturesque in sunny weather, but it is hard to appreciate beauty in driving rain. Bacchiglione River used to circle the ancient walls like a moat.

The Euganaean hills in the south west were praised by poets like Lucan, Martial, Petrarch, and Shelley. Even Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew is set in Padova.

Historians date the founding of the city by the Trojan prince Antenor around 1183 B.C. Padovani believe that their city is the oldest in northern Italy.  In 1274 bones were found in a large excavated ancient sarcophagus and officials declared them to be the bones of Antenor. The scholar Lovato dei Lovati wrote:

“This sepulcher excavated from marble contains the body of the noble Antenor who left his country, guided the Eneti and Trojans, banished the Euganeans and founded Padua.”

More recent tests reveal the date of the tomb to be 4th-3rd centuries B.C. Other archeological finds confirm the date of the town’s founding to be 11th-10th centuries B.C.

Saint Prosdocimus, the first Bishop of the city, introduced Christianity to Padova and to the region of Veneto. His deacon, Daniel, a Jewish convert, was another patron saint of the city.

Padova has been ruled by the Venetian Republic, by Austrians, and finally by Italians. During WWI Padova was central command for the Italian army and the king and the commander in chief lived here for the duration of the war.

During WWII, Padova was bombed repeatedly by Allied planes. The worst hits were the railway station and the Church of the Eremitani that was decorated with priceless frescoes by Andrea Mantegna. The destruction of this church is considered to be “Italy’s biggest wartime cultural loss.”

There is a Commonwealth War Cemetery in the western part of the city that commemorates the sacrifice of the troops. Since its liberation on April 28, 1945 by the British Eighth Army, Padova grew and became a successful part of one of the richest regions of modern Italy, Veneto.

There are more than twelve churches, dating from 10th-16th centuries, and seven villas of renown in Padova. The Scrovegni Chapel is the most interesting, with frescoes completed in 1305 by Giotto, frescoes detailing the life of the Virgin Mary and commissioned by a banker, Enrico degli Scrovegni. It stands on a former Roman arena, hence its nickname, “Arena Chapel.” Entering the sanctuary means spending 15 minutes in an air lock in order to control climate inside the church and preserve the frescoes.

Basilica di Sant’Antonio da Padova contains the bones of the saint in a chapel carved in marble by many sculptors and architects, including Sansovino. There is a Donatello equestrian statue of the Venetian general Gattamelata in front of the basilica.

Prato della Valle
Photo: Wikipedia Commons
 
The most famous landmark of Padova is Prato della Valle, an elliptical piazza of 90,000 square meters with a center garden surrounded by 78 statues of famous citizens of Padova.

The Abbey of Santa Giustina houses the tombs of many saints, Justine, Prosdocimus, Maximus, Urius, Felicita, Julianus, and relics of the Apostle St. Matthias and the Evangelist St. Luke.

Café Pedrocchi
Photo credit: Wikipedia Commons
The city’s downtown is encircled by 7-mile long city walls built in the 16th century. What is left are the ruins and two gates. Coffee lovers can indulge their tastes in Café Pedrocchi, built in 1831, and still fashionable today with a flare from faraway lands.

French novelist Stendhal and Lord Byron were some of the more famous patrons of this coffee shop located near the University, town hall, markets, and the post office.

In the heavy rain, we set out to drive to Verona, our beloved city where Dave and I spent a lot of time years ago.

TO BE CONTINUED

 

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Misplaced Nostalgia

Photo: Ileana Johnson May 2016
Lately I’ve been nostalgic about my birth country, about Europe, wondering what would be like to live there again. Perhaps my nostalgia is surfacing because I am fast approaching old age and the ball of yarn called life is getting smaller and smaller.

Maybe I have misplaced nostalgia because my adopted country is in such turmoil and nothing seems to redress what people are complaining about. Life goes on, the sun comes up every day, the routine we take for granted continues, children must be fed and taken to school, people go to work, football season started again, and the masses are not restless as long as the welfare checks come in on time and the dependency faucet flows, tummies are full, the gas tank is topped, and illusory abundance looms like a Potemkin village.

I know, I can never go back home again because home is no longer there, but I still want to from time to time. Life has moved on and, I found out quite painfully, I am now a stranger in my own land. The something I was looking for, what the French term, “je ne sais quoi,” is no longer there. Many relatives I grew up with are now residing in the cemetery, others are as old as I am, with elderly people problems, bad socialized medicine and care, and some simply don’t care if I exist. But then most people’s relatives, far removed or close ones, could not care less if others lived or died. We are but a blip on the screen of life.

Four trips to my hometown and I have not yet been allowed to erect a marble cross on my Dad’s grave. His burial plot is marked by a simple wooden cross painted antique blue, with lettering long erased by the inclement weather and the sun. It’s not that I cannot afford to pay for a better cross, unlike years ago when I was financially broke, living on minimum wage.

I have gone as far as ordering a marble cross, paying for it, and hiring a priest to bless its installation. The most painful part was choosing what words to put on the cross that best represented my Dad’s life. I decided on his name, his birthdate, his death, and the phrase, “The best father who gave me life and let me fly far away because he loved me.” But that did not really tell the story of his life, the sacrifice he made at such an early age, he was 61 years young.

As the self-appointed remaining patriarch, Dad’s only living younger brother objected to Dad’s cross. Each time there was a different reason. He wanted a bribe because I was a “rich” American ripe for fleecing.  He said no during another trip because it would disturb my grandparents’ grave nearby, somehow the extra marble weight would be toxic and disturb their eternity slumber. On the third visit, he said, it would offend his wife who was buried in the same family plot even though she was family by marriage. And, the most unreasonable objection was that I did not help his pregnant daughter find a job in America and did not give her a place to live, rent free, in my house. Had she heard of anchor babies, she could have become a life-long ward of the government like everybody else born in a poor country who manages to cross the border illegally in the last months of pregnancy.

So I decided to erect a memorial here, in this country, where my Dad never had a chance to visit because his life was cut short by the very people who were supposed to give him a visa but refused.

It was futile to explain to his brother that we have 94 million Americans out of work, blue collar jobs are scarce, and I don’t personally employ anybody, I am just a retired teacher. To him, and to the rest of the world, America is still the land of plenty, of filthy-rich people; money grows on trees if you fertilize them with enough B.S., and welfare flows like milk and honey. 

There is a reason why illegals and refugees are brought here, we are told, they do jobs Americans don’t want to do and take whatever wages, without complaining. As our president said, “Americans are lazy.” Then these hard-working illegals send their paychecks to Mexico or to their countries of origin, while they live on welfare. America is a great country! Did anyone ask him, how it became the envy of the world if Americans were so lazy?

On the other hand, he may be right, I did see lazy locals in the morning on my way to work, sitting on their porches, laughing and enjoying themselves, drinking beer, while I was looking at my watch nervously to make sure I would be on time for my 8 a.m. classes.

Illegal immigrants who are often unskilled, illiterate, and on welfare, fare better medically than our own veterans do. They even get translators in hospitals for free and gender reassignment surgery. What a deal! At the same time, educated legal immigrants who want the opportunity to better themselves professionally in the United States are rejected when applying for visas because they happen to be the wrong nationality, religion, skin color, or we ran out of H1B visas. Why bring in immigrants who can contribute to the greatness of this country when we can bring the dregs of third world society to take our country down to size?

Progressives have been telling us that it’s high time to redistribute our wealth to the rest of the world, we’ve been well off for far too long, we owe the rest of the world their turn. If our children and grandchildren will live much worse than we, their parents, so be it, it is social justice to impoverish ourselves while supporting large families from countries that hate our guts and wish our destruction.  

As the most successful country in the world, we are no longer desirable. Hillary Clinton told the world half of Americans are a “basket of deplorables.” Academia keeps telling us, we are evil, primitive cultures are noble and good, and we should learn from them by serving their needs, by allowing them to rule over us with help from United Nations tin pot dictators.

The other half of Americans blindly look up to Democrats because they think they are wise; they’ve been telling us for a long time that we should emulate Cuba and Venezuela’s failed socialist/communist regimes or Europe’s failed multiculturalism.

Europeans seem so bucolic from afar, so much greener over the fence, healthy, and content riding their bicycles everywhere. Who wants to burn $10/gallon gas and choke Mother Nature to death when they can travel in style by trains that run on electricity generated by windmills?

The problem I see is that even my native country is turning into a basket case of European Union totalitarianism by technocrats. According to the SüdDeutsche Zeitung, France and Germany are preparing to synchronize plans for a joint European army. http://www.sueddeutsche.de/politik/vor-gipfeltreffen-deutschland-und-frankreich-wollen-verteidigungspolitik-der-eu-reformieren-1.3155310

Male Muslim refugees of military age are flooding everywhere, even beautiful Venice and Milan. One such refugee, screaming Allahu Akbar and making death threats to passengers for two hours, was deported from the U.K. to Venice. Why Venice, the historical jewel of the Adriatic, the open air museum of our western civilization? Italians have spent billions trying to prevent the sinking of its archeological treasures. Why bring the enemy inside? http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3783356/Terror-EasyJet-flight-migrant-deported-Venice-screams-Allahu-Akbar-29-times-death-coming-17-times-die-nine-times-shocking-two-hour-frenzy.html

I was wondering why so many Muslims were taking photos of Catholic churches around Venice and Milan on a recent trip. I saw women in burkas taking photos of churches from gondolas in Venice; I am sure it was for touristy reasons. After France24 reported on the failed attempt by an entire cell of Muslim women to blow up Notre Dame Cathedral, I understood, it’s a dry run for the open season on western civilization. http://10thousandcouples.com/2016/09/france-opens-probe-into-notre-dame-cathedral-car-bomb/

Communism was bad enough, but I don’t know what to expect in a huge banana republic like ours and I certainly don’t like European Union’s bureaucratic socialism run from its the facto capital Brussels.

I had misplaced nostalgia to revisit living in the country of my birth or some other place in Europe. I get frustrated because this country I’ve adopted is fast becoming a banana republic and few seem to care. Change is inevitable and expected; positive change is good but forced progressive transformation is another story.

 

Thursday, August 25, 2016

Venice and Lido Island

Photo: Wikipedia Vladimir Shelialin
Giudecca Island seen from the Campanile
The 100-mile road to Venice took three hours in bumper to bumper traffic due to sheer volume on such a narrow two-lane highway 309, with cars joining the endless line of traffic, returning home from the weekend fishing trip or beach picnic to their villages that dotted the landscape. I felt like we were in rush hour in northern Virginia. Everything was closed, with no possibility to go to any bathroom along the way, not even nature’s secluded woods.

We arrived at dusk at the tronchetto (the ferry) which we boarded for the island of Lido where our hotel was located. I had been under mistaken notion that we were staying in Lido di Jesolo, a summer resort that is actually on mainland, not an island in the middle of the archipelago. I had stayed in Lido di Jesolo on previous trips and I was not impressed with the hotels but the beach was beautiful even during cold spring break explorations. I took a few students to the beach on such a cold mid-March afternoon and we dipped our feet in the cold waters of the Gulf of Venice.

As we were purchasing our ferry tickets, the windshield wipers came on, spraying the agent in the booth who, understandably, was not very happy about it and let us know in vociferous Italian fashion. We had no idea how to turn them off in the rented BMW that did not come with an operator’s manual, and were struggling to do so to the exasperation of the angry Italian who kept cursing at us.

We finally turned it off and bought three-day passes for us and one ferry crossing for the car, for a total of 101 euros, not bad considering that, from then on, we could board any water bus to the many islands around Venice, as many times as we wanted. Such a general ticket must have been a blessing for the locals who often traveled to faraway islands in order to get their groceries and necessities. I struck up a conversation with an elderly Italian lady who was carrying two large grocery bags of food and toilet paper. She told me that life was hard but she would not have any other way.

It was very cold over the water in late April and I could not stop shaking even with a flimsy cashmere sweater. I took pictures in the dark of a couple of cruise ship blazing with lights like a Christmas tree. I was surprised how dark the night line of Venice was. Piazza San Marco and the Campanile were totally dark.  Ambient light was coming from the ferries and from the numerous cruise ships, but not from street lights. Venice was pretty much in muted darkness.

Before we boarded the ferry, everyone lined up in seven or so lanes, very un-Italian like. Traffic was directed by a tronchetto employee. But when we got off, nobody was directing traffic and it was a free for all – all the three lanes of cars on the ferry became a race of who had more guts to push ahead of the person next to them without causing a crash, ending in the water below.

After a 30 minute ferry ride, we made it to the Panorama hotel, facing Piazza San Marco across the bay. Dave had to park in the courtyard, a very narrow, cobble-stoned driveway, surrounded by iron fencing and a gate.  Parking in reverse next to the only other car there required skill and daring. The tall receptionist, Marco, was jovial and pleasant, speaking English well, which he insisted we use because he wanted to practice his American English. He was so tall, he could climb a flight of stairs with two large steps. The room was passable, a three-star hotel pretending to be a four-star hotel. We slept well in spite of everything, that’s how tired we were.

Motoscafi from Lido di Jesolo to San Marco
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2005
This was my 22nd visit to the Serenissima and yet there were still places left to be explored. Serenissima Repubblica di Venezia existed as a state from the late 7th century A.D. until 1797, with a long history of war and conquest, a powerful economic and trading power.

The cupolas of San Marco's
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2005
 
We woke up to pitch blackness thanks to the wooden shutters opening into a narrow vine-covered terrace. The tiny shower barely accommodated Dave’s wide shoulders and did not drain well, typical Italian plumbing problem. They press and starch anything made of cloth but they don’t use bleach in the bathroom.

Breakfast was in a well-appointed and cozy restaurant with sweet and smiling staff who was glad that I spoke Italian. However, we had to suffer the indignity of listening to four loud Brits bashing the United States, totally overlooking their own problem in the U.K., the takeover of their beloved Londonistan.

All we had to do was cross the street to take a water bus to San Marco’s Square. Around 11 a.m., it was already a zoo everywhere and the lines to the historical sites were extremely long, the Campanile, Palazzo Ducale, the San Marco Basilica, the Bridge of Sighs, the Correr Museum, and the medieval prison. It did not matter to us since we had seen them all numerous times.

San Marco Square under water 2007
Photo: Wikipedia
The large San Marco’s Square is covered with flocks of fat pigeons and generous tourists who love to feed them to the horror of others who are being pooped on. Outdoor restaurants and shops line the square, and souvenir vendors hawking feeding corn, Venetian masks, funny Carnevale hats, fake Murano glass trinkets, Venice t-shirts, calendars, and, the newest addition for the narcissistic tourists who want to make sure the world knows they are there, selfie-sticks. Behind the Clock’s arcades there is even a Murano glass factory which we visited several times.

Piazza San Marco, “the drawing room of Europe,” is dominated by the façade of San Marco’s Basilica. The beautiful arches with marble decorations and Romanesque carvings around the main doorway pale in comparison to the four horses which face the whole piazza as symbols of Venetian power. In 1379, Genoa said that “there could be no peace between the two cities until the horses had been bridled.” The horses were “bridled” by Napoleon after he conquered Venice 400 years later and had them shipped to Paris.

Clock Tower
Photo: Wikipedia
The 1499 Clock Tower to the left of the basilica arches over the Merceria street which eventually leads to Ponte Rialto through narrow and dark streets dotted with tiny but expensive leather shops, jewelry shops, gelatterias, pizzerias, cafes, stationery shops, silks scarves and ties boutiques. To the right of the Clock Tower is the church of San Basso, now closed.

Two bronze figures, a young and an old, allegedly shepherds (wearing sheepskins), representing the passage of time, adorn the top of the clock.  They are known as the “Moors” because of the dark patina of the bronze. The two figures strike the hours on a bell which was cast by Simeone in 1497. The bronze figures are huge – the intention was that they could be seen from far away in the lagoon.

Below is a winged lion of Venice with an open book in front of a blue background with gold stars. When the city surrendered to Napoleon in 1797, the statue of Doge Agostino Barbarigo (1486-1501), who was kneeling before the lion, was removed by the French because it was a symbol of the old regime. Conquerors around the world have removed statues and destroyed historical artifacts in the process of asserting their rule.

Below the winged lion of Venice there is a semi-circular gallery with statues of the Virgin and Child seated, cast in gilt beaten copper. The blue panels on either side show the hour in Roman numerals on the left and minutes, in five-minute intervals, in Arabic numerals on the right.

Twice a year, at Epiphany (6 January) and on Ascension Day (the Thursday 40 days after Easter) the three Magi, led by an angel with a trumpet, emerge from one of the doorways normally taken up by these numbers and pass in procession round the gallery, bowing to the Virgin and child, before disappearing through the other door.” (Archives)

The huge clock face in blue and gold below is engraved with 24 hours in Roman numerals. A golden pointer with the sun moves around the circle. Beneath the sun pointer, within the marble circle, there are signs of the zodiac in gold, originals dating from the 1490s. In the middle of the clock face are the sun and the moon which revolves to show its phases, surrounded by fixed stars. The entire background is blue enamel.

San Marco Basilica and the pigeons
Photo: Wikipedia
 
On the north side of San Marco’s basilica is Piazzetta dei Leoncini, named after the two marble lions. The Palazzo Patriarcale, the residence of the Patriarch of Venice, is a neo-classical building on the east side, connected to the Basilica.

Early 16th century former homes and offices of the Procurators of St. Mark, high officers of the state during the days of the Venetian Republic, are located above the arcades lining the Piazza. Restaurants and shops are located on the ground level of these buildings such as the famous Café Quadri, patronized by Austrians during their rule in the 19th century, while Venetians favored Café Florian on the opposite side of the Piazza.

At the end of the Piazza is a wing which was built by Napoleon in 1810 and is known as the Napoleonic Wing. There is a ceremonial staircase behind the shops which was meant to lead to the royal palace but it is now the entrance to the Correr Museum with its library, the imperial rooms, the Canova collection, the Correr Library, and the photographic archives.

Café Florian, with its rich red velvet benches and very pricey espresso for expensive and famous tastes, located below the new procurators building, was opened in 1720 by Floriano Francesconi for Venetian patrons who hated the Austrians who were hanging out at Café Quadri, which was opened in 1775 in the old procurators building.

Campanile
Photo: Wikipedia
 
Standing freely in the Piazza, the Campanile (bell tower) of St. Marco’s Basilica, has been repaired repeatedly since 1514 and rebuilt in 1912 after it collapsed in 1902. An elevator can take visitors to the top, offering a fantastic 360 degree view of the Venetian lagoon.

Next to the Campanile is Loggetta del Sansovino built in 1537-46 as a lobby for patricians waiting to go into meetings of the Great Council in the Doge’s Palace across the street and by guards when the Great Council was in session.

The Doge’s Palace (the ducal palace) with the Doge’s apartments, courtyard, the old prison (Piombi), the new prison, and the Bridge of Sighs (1614) are located on the same side as San Marco’s Basilica. Between the Doge’s Palace and Loggetta del Sansovino are three flagpoles with bronze bases in high relief decorated by Alessandro Leopardi in 1505.

Ponte dei Sospiri (The Bridge of Sighs)
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2004
 
The Bridge of Sighs, built in 1614, was a corridor linking the Doge’s Palace to the house of the New Prisons. As the condemned crossed from the Court in the Doge’s Palace to the New Prisons, he took one last look at the Venetian lagoon and Giudecca Island, at freedom, and sighed.

The ground floor of the southern wing was occupied by prison spaces built before the 12th century. More cells were added during the 13th and 14th centuries. Around 1540 the eastern wing was built with dark, damp, and isolated cells called Pozzi (wells).  In 1591 more cells were built in the upper eastern wing, under the lead roof, thus called Piombi. One of the more famous inmates was Giacomo Casanova.

He describes in his biography how he escaped through the roof, re-entered the palace, and exited through the Porta della Carta. There is a carving of Casanova’s portrait and a date on one of the prison’s window sills; it is not clear if he carved it himself or if it was done much later.

Life in these cells was very dark, cold, and damp. Water and food was provided by the citizens of Venice whose benevolence kept them alive.  Old buckets are testimony to the sanitation methods in these granite prison cells. Contents were dumped into the lagoon waters.

Palazzo dei Dogi (Doge's Palace)
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2005
 
One interesting room in the Doge’s Palace was the Compass Room where justice was served. A large wooden compass in a corner is overseen by the statue of Justice, hiding the entrance to the offices of the Three Heads of the Council of Ten and the State Inquisitors. It was an antechamber where those called in front of the magistrates waited patiently the disposition of their fate. The beautiful ceilings were painted by Veronese and the fireplace was designed by Sansovino. Beyond this room, there are two ways to exit, either pass the Armory and the New Prisons on the other side of the Bridge of Sighs, or go down the Censors’ Staircase to pass into the Council of Justice rooms on the first floor.

Doge's Palace Interior Courtyard
Photo: Ileana Johnson 2005
 
The magnificent Chamber of the Great Council represents the power of the Venetian Republic. It is the largest room in the Doge’s Palace and one of the largest rooms in Europe (53 m long and 25 m wide). The most important political body in the Venetian Republic, the Council was made up of male members of Venetian patrician families, at least 25 years old, regardless of merit, wealth, or personal status. A fire destroyed this room in 1577 and was restored in 1579-80 by artists such as Veronese, Jacopo, and Tintoretto.

The walls display Venetian history, tumultuous relationships with Popes and the Holy Roman Empire. The ceiling displays the Virtues and Venetian history. Portraits of the first 76 Doges are painted below the ceiling in a frieze. The rest of the Doges’ portraits are found in the Scrutinio Room. Each Doge is depicted holding a scroll which tells about his reign’s most important achievements. One Doge, Marin Faliero, who attempted a coup d’état in 1355, is pictured by a black cloth, a traitor to the Venetian Republic. The largest canvass painting in the world, il Paradiso, the work of Tintoretto and his shop, adorns the wall behind the Doge’s throne.

TO BE CONTINUED