The trip and the disappearance of geography. Venice. Humiliation I dedicate this post to Andrea Bottarel - el xe a vecio Virgil.
Where is Venice?
Oh, there were only rhetorical questions.
Unfortunately it is not: a) it would be easier to answer and b) I would not have felt the need to write this posting.
Unfortunately for all of us, this is a question more urgent than ever.
some time now, Venice is disappeared, eclipsed by the tourism objectives flattened, emptied out of life - the only thing that makes a city is a city true. It has long been hidden and not find more.
Many do not even realize it, blinded by a beauty too much, or too busy to find the way to the hotel without getting lost.
There are also those who do not even care that the city is gone. Aspirations of artists, from feminine shit: what it means to disappear? The buildings are still there, firmly, channels stink as usual, selling blacks always distorted their bags on the sides of the Grand Canal.
What happened?
We were distracted for a few years, we could not imagine that everything was going so fast.
We did it just for the picture - and money.
On the other hand was the city's top tourist, Italian pride, a standard which will be imposed.
economize, economize, economize.
I have already mentioned elsewhere in Venice, with its progressive prostitution; flattening due to mass tourism, a slow and steady process of destruction that threatens to stifle atrophy and some of the most beautiful cities the world. I do not want to repeat. It is now to find a city that you want to find.
The city has responded! It is hidden , has shifted. Find it has become an explorer.
Even the physical point of view is difficult, you have to have good legs and good patience. And, of course, luck.
Venice is a fish, it is true, in that it slipped from my hands.
I visited often, and I have never made a fool. So many people, so that I could not even speak. Eternal destination of thousands and thousands of schools Romagna, and lamentations for stairs and walk forced towns of art and the Biennale, a city of fashion, whim of the city, city of luxury and celebrity.
Everything that I hated the show congeals along the narrow streets and alleyways along the Salizada and rivers, in fields and squares, in the form of tourists, glittering shops of Venetian scorbutic and anesthetized by tourism, which does not speak dialect to be understood.
All this still happens today.
How to find the city?
is the great change of our times. No sense the expression "visiting a city." Or rather, no longer makes sense to say to all cities. You can not, for example, to visit Venice.
You can go there to look at her, admiring the buildings and the Persians all the same green and peeling and moisture, to study architecture, you can go there with the woman in search of sunsets and tear strappassegni.
Not ever live.
Need a guide, someone who was born there, and we grew up. Dante's Inferno as you need a Virgil me take your hand, and that makes you discover the (increasingly) small portions of land not yet conquered .
All this is sad: if only the fact that they need guidance implies a minority, a sign of the times that we live, time to time fathers and children.
This minority, however, teaches a very important thing, which now include a few more. A lesson hopeful who understands thoroughly and make a really immeasurable distance between the tourist and non-tourist. Teach the meaning of the journey generations increasingly disinterested and bored. It teaches us to be happy visiting the city foreign.
regain possession of geography, bringing home a piece of that city will build another, infinitely more important. The your city, which does not coincide with the residence, domicile, the place of birth, with the favorite, but it is a summation of all these and all other cities we visited in life and, in a Somehow, always different, we have enriched.
This is called ideal city.
Then you realize that Venice is not in Venice, but San Michele, a miracle artificial square fortress lapped by the waves of the lagoon, another dimension, the rhythm of cypress trees and graves, and the flush of the tides against the lions of stone eroded by the salt.
Venice is in the courts defended by heavy iron gates, and opens up into small miracles of marble and ivy on capitals forgotten, hidden from the mosaics in black moisture .
Venice is Castle at night, in the silence of a former car-free and silent rustle of the fishing nets hanging closer to home .
Venice is in the columns of fish market, on the thirteenth-century engravings of ships waiting for the Crusaders in Istanbul.
Venice is in statues of crooked Mori, who seem to watch them (those who still have a head) with immense sadness, almost with fear, perhaps thinking of their businesses lost, when Venice was the most powerful city in the world, and was in danger of being lost.
Venice is in the taste of cod fish and shadows in taverns where you do not speak Italian.
Venice in colored stones with chalk children, in the field San Giacomo.
soldiers in Venice is forgotten and dusty, like Lari of Roman houses, lost inside the walls of narrow streets.
San Marco in Venice is - but only night, when the city begins to breathe.