After spending some time in Armenia – the Caucasus, wrapping my brain about the idea of being in Venice for a holiday could be compared to watching molasses pour (that, plus my British English phrasing seems more pronounced these days: note usage of ‘about’ and ‘holiday’). First reactions to this holiday unfortunately reeked of those postcarded sites used as coffee shop decor, t-shirts, or your run of the mill calendar ... but then again the tourist plagued city/nation did make it to the headlines on the coattails of the dreamy Berlusconi and his pardon (...) and thousands of Tripolian migrants. Whoop. Thank you. Plus! just a day in and i got to google what this whole Veneto-not-being-Italy graffiti is (click for the quick wiki informational, there are youtube videos for those really intrigued).
With my ears perked to such waves of a reality beyond a gondola ride, the super-style ads in the airport were ingested a bit differently – any of those models could be caught in a scandalous twist with the prime minister – it is democracy after all. Those dressed outside that ad-degree, in more ‘ethnic’ hues, made for a pride thumping sound from the center of my breast – my people. Heh. Really though, just because you migrate doesn’t mean you know diddly. I caught myself examining crowds into eye-watering gazes when attempting to discern migrant from local. That type of act is what leads many to tormenting the most ‘obviously’ foreign – whatever that means. Pardon me, while I try to climb as far out of my racist pants as possible.
We stayed in a small town outside of Venice which helped with broadening of perspectives. Thank goodness hotels in Venice proper could be cheaper. ‘Solo Italiano,’ rang out from the mouths and hand gestures of the hotel attendants. In any country, these groups can be found that are set at volume 'nostalgia' for a cultural purity that never existed to the extent always hankered for. This sentiment that controlled the hotel atmosphere would have sounded like, “Yes, we know that the possibility of a client being unable to communicate in Italian within our hotel is high, however we reserve the right to chagrin at even the thought of awkward-moment-alleviation by means of acknowledging the advent of ‘international languages.’ Eh, i acknowledge that this an over-chronicled touristic experience, making it more normal than not, and apparently worth a blog spot. ah, vacationing.
But really, these attitudes are either part of a motif, a goal, to make the visitors feel the Difference from home (picked ripe from the How-to book on Hosting the Unwanted), or residue from a Mestre protest that made it to the papers, (this was mentioned to give credit to all the protests that happened before and after which the media no doubt ignored. click for link.) which was about the construction of a settlement for a group of Roma people. Hello people, this is how uncomfortable we have become with all elements foreign. This municipally funded project was set to replace make-shift shelters the Roma had been inhabiting. Mestre is the city directly inland (east) from Venice, though considered part of the Venetian commune, has a population of about 90,000 (around 180,000 in all of Venice) . Essentially, it is the city whose growth is courtesy of Venice being too water and (subsequently) tourist-logged to provide low enough living expenses for those employed there. ‘Spend money on the locals!’ quoted the article. Wouldn’t they be doing this, however indirectly, by this essential beautification project??!
Skip to a return flight airport setting: Just witnessed a person get fatally tangled up while describing links made between today and some old Richard Prior movie – I think we were all let down a bit when the…point… was… lost… They were almost there! I felt the impending fabulousness. To add to the embarrassment, there was a beer sitting in front of them while the audience silently listened with teas on parade. Oops. If only this connection making guru, sans alcohol, could help explain to the ‘Italy for the Italians’ group that it is all part of a beautiful cycle – that the ‘trickle’ effect also runs direction Up.
all this to say that the voices screaming against inevitable change are without a doubt deafening at times. solution - government issued headphones. heh.
viva!
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