Venice

Travel Writing – Venice

My flight landed in Venice at 11:30 pm on a chilly October night. Immediately upon arrival, I knew that this visit was going to be unlike any other. The choices of transportation to proceed into the city itself were highly unusual. One could be fairly pedestrian and select the mundane city bus, nothing exciting about that, just an every day bus. For the slightly more adventurous, there were ‘water buses’. This basically meant that you could lean out into the canal, stick out your hand –which seemed fairly pointless given the thick fog- and a colossal, metal barge appeared almost as if by magic, and expertly manoeuvred itself into the frighteningly small docking area. Lastly, for those who were truly determined to find the most luxurious method of transport, and who also happened to have a rather thick wallet, private water taxis were the only option. Naturally, this was my choice!
My taxi driver was not at all the type of person that you would find driving a black cab in London. First of all, it was extremely difficult to communicate with him, for as soon as I had hammered my hotel name into his head, he seemed to drift off into a “don’t worry, I know what I’m doing” mode. I have to admit, I did feel completely safe with him at the wheel, despite the constantly spreading fog that must have made driving so incredibly difficult. He seemed so casual, as he deftly flicked the steering wheel from left to right. I was sure that he had grown up on the canals, how else could he have driven so proficiently, without ever having to beep the horn or swerve? Not once!
The whole scene seemed magical and full of mystery. The dark, foggy night with bits of cloud dotted randomly in the sky together with the next to silent waters lapping gently against the boat paints a picture in my mind looking back on it. The boat started to slow down, and was soon completely still, next to the edge of the canals. The driver gestured for me to get out and I did so, after heaving my overly heavy bags onto my shoulder and depositing them next to the boat. I paid the driver and gave him a fairly generous tip, merely because the stunning scenery had left me in a very good mood.

When I arrived at my hotel, I soon realised just how close I was to the world-renowned St. Mark’s Square. Although it was well past midnight, I couldn’t resist having a quick look around the square. The moment I turned the corner into the great square itself, I was entranced. I dropped my bags and stood there, staring, thinking, and dreaming. It was absolutely magnificent; the majestic cathedral cast its great shadow over the entire square, the golden statues glistened in the scarce moonlight. There was one peculiarity in the square that night that stood out quite a lot. At that time of year, the tides were very high, an effect known as ‘aqua alta’, and the city was often partly submerged in water. Because of this, long raised walkways were erected so that people could go on with their daily lives. I remember walking on the catwalk-like paths, being the only person in the entire square, and really thought about how lucky I was to be here. Those memories have stuck with me for a long time, and shall probably never fade.