I lived for a brief time in Park Slope, Brooklyn, commuting daily into Manhattan on the "boogie down D train to the Bronx", as the conductor would say over the PA every morning. A couple of doors down from me was a sixtyish fellow who had lived in the same house all his life with his frail mother. Maybe it was the tall-boy can of Colt 45 Malt Liquor in the paper bag that accompanied him everywhere, or perhaps it was just a bad gene sequence, but this fellow had the wit and manner of a ten-year-old. The village natural. We'd often sit on my porch, listening to the boom box and talking about his favorite subject: the neighborhood. He was one of those "unofficial mayor" types who knew everyone and everything in a 10-block radius, and had earned the right to sit down in the barbershop without getting shooed away anytime he wanted to hang out and read magazines.
In one of our conversations he stunned me by saying that he had never been to Manhattan in his life. Since the Big City was about 20 minutes away via subway, and the ride cost about the same as a bagel and cream cheese, I found this incredible. His reasoning: everything he needed was right there in Brooklyn. Who needs Manhattan?
Cut to Venice, many years later. I'd traded the D train for the number 82 vaporetto. In Venice for the first month of a year and a half stay, I was having a coffee on the fondamenta with a well-educated, middle-aged, worldly Italian woman. The conversation turned to travel, and she mentioned casually that she had been to Rome only once in her life, and had never ventured further south into Italy. I hid my reaction, but was stupified by the abject provincialism of it all. Her reasoning: everything she needed was right there in Venice. Who needs Rome?
I came to better understand her attitude (and the attitude of many Venetians) thanks to a kind of in-class instructional comedy routine that one of my Italian teachers in Venice, Andrea, would use whenever a new crop of students came in. The topic was the meaning of the word “lontano”, which in English, means “far away”. He would contrast what lontano meant to a Chinese student (from Beijing to Shanghai) and an American student (from New York to LA) with that of an Italian.
“The concept of lontano to an Italian”, Andrea would say, "is anything more than an hour’s train ride from home.”
In the case of Venice, at least, I understand how this short leash gets attached to the collar. Venice's depth is enough to ponder for a lifetime. The true city reveals itself to you slowly. There's the initial seduction of the beauty. Then you become overcome by the improbability of it all ... an imperial city in a lagoon that sprouted from a petri dish of salt, mud and reeds. There's a thousand years of history to consider. A world-class artistic and architectural tradition. A threat from the sea and ecological drama. A million little stories, which, taken together, define the soul and wit of a people. The waterways. And a way of life -- once one sees past the unending tourist hordes -- that has a sweet secret rhythm that holds you in place, content.
So now for the true confession. At the end of my time in Venice, I had never ventured south of Rome either. I still haven’t.
Napoli?
E’ lontano.
Although I can truly understand the pasion for Venice, not to have ventured south of Rome is truly to miss out - like the Amalfi coast with Amalfi and its amazing cathedral, Atrani its tiny neighbour and the mountain villages of Scala and Ravello with its beautiful villas and gardens....so much to explore - forget Naples!
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No, no, of course you're right. I'm certainly not suggesting that it's a GOOD thing to be stuck as I am. I'm sure I'll get down there ultimately.
But not so far.
N.
Posted by: Sandy | August 28, 2004 at 11:31 AM
With no disrespect to Rome, London, Hong Kong, Toronto (my home city) or any other city in the world, they are all similar. Venice on the other hand is unique. I have been to the other so called Venices; Leningrad, Amsterdam and Venice Beach California, but they are like comparing a Cessna with the Concorde.
The time I spend in Venice is so precious, I can't imagine going anywhere else.
Posted by: Catherine | August 28, 2004 at 05:51 PM
Late reply;
Norman, I had a similar surprised reaction to hearing Thom Price, the expatriated American gondola maker in Venice, answer my question of how often he has traveled Europe from his Venetian base with 'Never!".
I do think I now understand this outlook or lack of one better. In fact my most important life's goal is to experience this first hand, and/or make such available in the States.
Paul
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Did you speak with Thom? I sent him an email some time ago, but he never answered. Oh well.
I don't want to leave the impression I haven't traveled a ton. I have ... Africa, Asia, Central America, all across North America, Oceania, Western and Eastern Europe. But for some reason, never south of Rome within Italy. My wife thinks I need therapy.
Posted by: Paul | September 09, 2004 at 10:17 AM
So sorry for such late responses; I guess you get a notification.
I bought two gondolas from Thom. so I have some history with him. He was in today's USA Today! Though I'm sure he's most proud of his NY Times story, I sure would be, with a nice color photo a couple of years back I think.
Certainly would look him up, even check on working at his shop if they thought I would be useful, when back in Venice.
Paul
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The writer of the story, Laura Bly, is a Veniceblog reader. I was in touch with her before the article broke ... did some fact checking on the draft ... background stuff ... nothing major ... hoped to get a link, but it doesn't look like it's gonna happen.
Posted by: Paul | September 24, 2004 at 07:41 PM
The article let you know how much Thom charges for a quick visit to his squero/shop. And I think it mentions that he does Venice tours as well, whichg he does. And given USA Today's demographics, people on vacation or on business trips with travel on their minds the article was free advertising for him, even better in that regard than the Times article, though the Times reference looks great on his website. Has Thom visited your blog? Seems like he'd like it and would put a link to your Blog on his site. For what its worth, I'm going to link to this blog on my forthcoming carfreeOption.org if you don't mind.
Paul
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Well, I did a posting on Thom a while back. I emailed him to alert him to the post and asked a few questions, but never heard back. Nothing. So if you can drag him into the blog, great.
Link away, by the way, it'd be an honor.
Posted by: Paul | September 25, 2004 at 07:05 PM
I just found your blog (while searching for a spritz recipe). Great stuff. Makes me want to go back to Venice--immediately (even if it is flooding).
When I was in Venice this year for Carnival, I was fortunate to spend a few hours with Thom Price. He showed up the gondola-building process and patiently answered questions. A guide, Alvise Zanchi, from Venice ala Carte (www.tourvenice.org/) arranged it. We also spent time with the manager of one of Venice's rowing clubs and got a great tour of the entire facility--including the trophy room. If interested, I can send along a photo or two. (My website has a few photos of St. Mark's underwater.) I'm not sure if Alvise is still doing tours, but if he is, he's a great resource.
And, in the spirit of this thread, in all my visits to Italy, I've never gotten beyond Rome, either. I keep vowing to go south, but it never happens!
Posted by: Sharon | November 10, 2004 at 07:41 AM
Beautiful young people are accidents of nature, But beautiful old people are works of art. Do you agree?
Posted by: Air Jordan | March 07, 2011 at 07:22 PM
They have a different view on the theory, kinda interesting.
Posted by: pinnacle security | April 01, 2011 at 01:13 AM