22/03 So, this is Venice...

Hey all.I'm getting the hang of things here in Venice... settling into a rhythym. I love catching the vaporettos, shopping at markets and wearing rubber boots. I love drinking great wine, poured into recycled plastic bottles straight from the vats, that’s cheaper than the still water the bottles used to contain. I love the impromptu jams on guitars at home or the Mozart lashed out by a friend on a piano in the lobby! I think I’ll be just fine here and it all feels strangely normal.


Living in Venice is unlike any other city. You know, even in a new place, there are similarities or foreign equivalents to the things you know. Not here! Even the Italian kid is battling. This place is not designed for modern living. There is no supermarket or department store, no pool joint or club. Everything remains fragmented as I s’pose it was in sixteen fifty-f’kol. Bread you get from the baker, meat from the butcher, produce from the market, wine from the brewery (or wine place… whatever you call it.) Shopping is a whole day affair, especially since each place is only open certain times and on certain days. Entertainment is generally confined to your home. There are two bars near the university and are just that… a bar counter. Cafés are for coffee and restaurants for expensive meals, for lunch or a small snack, you go to a cicheterria. I think there’s one cinema but I haven’t found it, besides all films are dubbed (bugger the subtitle thing). Sure there’s history and art and churches but bloody hell, there’s only so much of that stuff one can do. And clothing, oh the clothing! Only one brand per store and of course it’s Gucci, Prada, Armani… come on! Where can I buy a pair of socks?!?! (They do sell vibrators in the vending machines though!)

The vaporetto is my sole source of transport aside from walking, which I’ve done miles of on this tiny island! Needless to say, there is no such thing as a car or a bus… there are no roads and the streets aren’t even wide enough for a bicycle. The only wheels are on the trolleys the old folks carry their belongings in. Imagine, no pollution, no noise… just thousands of sodding church bells! I’m not just talking a modest ding dong on the hour… noooo. This is like a choir of every bell in the city, playing the longest ballad ever written. I sometimes fear the 12 o’ clock won’t finish in time for it’s next performance at one!… It’s like the hunchback drank too much red bull and is hiding in Venice!

I’ve just moved to my new place in Giardini with Luca. It’s on the main island, nothing fancy but a real relief from the poky hotel on Certosa. Certosa is like this weird little creative community held together by the school and a boat yard. The students are a mismatch of yacht designers, photographers, woodwork artisans, ‘cool hunters’ and events coordinators. (Did you know there was such a thing as a ‘cool hunter’? These guys study to go around the world and determine what is to become cool… they tell the designers, the artists the fasionistas where things will go in the next 5 to 10 years. We, ‘Joe soap,’ get what’s cool from books, movies, music etc. but who tells the authors what’s cool?... Cool hunters! They go around sourcing textures, colours, smells and tastes and define the journey… cool.)

Anyhow, so school is on Certosa island. I have to catch the vaporetto (a water bus) to the island every morning from Giardini. It’s on the main island of Venice in the lagoon. (Movie Venice with canals and masked balls, not industrial Venice on the mainland). Luca, my flat mate is an Italian, 25 y/o and kind of cool. A tortured soul, who likes to cook and play guitar but a little rough around the edges. He’s sweet though. The others in my “class” are okay, I guess. Getting to know you is a slow process since we’re from such different cultures. So, on the surface they’re like minded and perhaps a bit timid. 5 of the 9 students are Turkish (Sinan, Selin, Buscra, Harika & Suda), one Tiawanese (Mark), one German (Mathias), one Italian (Luca) and me. The turks tend to band together, but I guess it’s just easy.

I enjoy Mathias the most… former mechanical engineer working on concept car design teams (how cool is that?!) When I went to see the estate agent about the flat, Mathias came with as translator (his Italian is far better than mine). So this agent, Veronica is all over the place. Super-charged, attention-deficit… all in all I found her quite odd. Anyhow, so we’re trying to hold her attention on the subject of finding me a place to live, and she’s in and out of the room, having 5 conversations at once and suddenly asks if any of us has a screw driver on them?!?! Mathias turns to me and says, “I think I’m falling in love.” From that moment I knew he and I would get on just fine.

My lecturers are a bunch of rockstars! Seriously, these guys are big names and have worked on the big stuff. You know how we can name landmark buildings and judge the architects by their association with projects… same with boats. We know that this boat was designed for that purpose but didn’t race so was sold and converted to cruise here and now is sailing there.

My Italian remains little more than “Bonjourno. Ciao, kome stai?” We’ll see, classes are in English and living with Luca (who’s fluent in English) it’s too easy just to ignore it and use hand signals in public. A bit of a cop out, I know. So I’ve signed up for a language course after hours as of April.

I witnessed Carnival. The whole dress up, masked ball thing. The actual masked balls are private affairs but there were public events and shows each night and everyone wore a mask for 2 weeks and played in the streets at night (which are ordinarily deserted). It was fun and kind of cool but it felt a bit thin… They say the whole festival died completely not so long ago and they’re trying to revive it. There was a handful of people who dressed up to the nines in the old ball gowns and suits, completely masked but they just stood around like ornaments and posed for the tourists to take photos. I guess I wanted a show. Like jesters in the streets and stuff, like they do in Quebec. All in all I felt more enthusiasm at the German school’s fundraising ‘beerfest’ than at Carnivale Venezia. Not a bad attempt but perhaps I was expecting more.

I’ve seen LeeJ once since my big move. I flew to Bristol for the last weekend in Feb. It was great to see him, meet his brother, his friends and see where he comes from. Perhaps I'll convince him to come visit soon... Go see Juliet's balcony in Verona. I hear it's just over an hour away by train... If not, I think some Saturday outings are definatly in order!

So, allora, (new word), Venice Boat Show this week. No one’s holding their breath for the show, but the heavies get to boast and we get yet another excuse to gather and drink.

VENEZIA baby!... and loving every frustration she gives me!