End of the affair...

Being at the back end of the attendant schedule has its merits – the average temperature is more forgiving heading into the European fall and while the archetypal cobbled streets still heave under the weight of tourist flocks, the pedestrian traffic has eased somewhat following the crescendo that peaks during the mid-summer vacation high season. 

The down side is that by late September, pickings diminish slightly in terms of sourcing content for our blog. Previous attendants have accurately conveyed a sense of daily life in Venice, from navigating one’s way throughout the maze of crowded Venetian alleys, and sound musings upon the various Biennale pavilions on offer, to the fabulous produce markets and the finer intricacies of selecting the perfect gelato. Finding a topic that hasn’t already been covered can pose a challenge. 

However, what struck me quite rapidly in my first week of being resident in Venice (yes, aside from the frenzied plethora of sightseers and Kodak moments at every turn) is a dynamic tension between the ephemeral and the permanent. That while a transmutable disposition pervades the city’s arterial routes, characterized by the constant flow and circulation of people and water, there is a sense of timelessness that exists, augmented of course by the physical presence of the city itself – the dominance of the enduring materials of stone, mortar and marble that form it’s streets and architecture, encasing you on all sides. (Coming from an island swathed in green, the contrast is jolting and we kiwi’s tend to seek out refuge in the few concealed parks known mostly to the locals). 

But while Venice’s transient populace reinvents itself daily, the city itself remains a faithful, enduring entity. Indeed, Venice’s history as a contested site coveted for its strategic position as a major trading route, has seen numerous territorial rivalries played out over the centuries between bordering regions and from further afield, the Lomards, Turks, Dalmatians, Austrians, French and Spanish. It seems that still, even now, everyone wants a piece of Venezia and many of her passing suitors must at some point end the affair.

And so I leave you with a fond farewell to Thomasin, my departing flat mate and chef extraordinaire, accompanied by an amusing observation made by one of the Venetian attendants after I had asked her how, as a Venetian, she felt about her city being besieged by an endless torrent of admirers – 

‘Venice is like a woman, she is tired and stressed and needs a holiday herself!’

Well said Anna!