Remembering Venice …
“Venice is sinking. The whole city is slowly dying. One day the tourists will travel here by boat to peer down into the waters, and they will see pillars and columns and marble far, far beneath them …” —Daphne du Maurier
Venice: You will miss it forever, take any opportunity to see it again, and it will speak to you in a different whisper every time.
That’s why Claude Monet, who visited Venice only once, painted it again and again. That’s why I’ve returned. That’s why I’ll take any opportunity to reflect upon ‘the city of dreams,” why I’m planning to visit an exhibit at the San Francisco’s de Young Museum, co-organized with the Brooklyn Museum and dedicated to Monet’s Venetian cityscapes. That said, a preview of some of the works on view concerns me. Monet’s take on Venice seems to be … well … very Monet: an image of something fading from view, something caught in the moment of its passing … like a flower, like a garden of flowers, like the blossomy surround of his home in Giverny.
I’ve been a Monet fan since elementary school, but I’m concerned since I’m an even bigger Venice fan and, for me at least, that ancient city is so textured, so full of intrigue that it vibrates.
I’m hoping Monet’s paintings will bring back some of the time- and sea-worn beauty of the place, along with its undulating waters, myriad passageways, mysterious attractions, take me to a city still very much alive, still playing a significant part in the drama of the day. I am actually a bit nervous about this: Two favorites, how will they pair?
When I posted about all of this on my social media pages, fellow writer and journalist, Dick Jordan reminded me of piece I wrote on September 14, 2011 … days after the attack on the World Trade Center.
I was in Venice, with travel writing companions, and Venice was very much a part of what is happening in that moment.
It was then. It is now. It will always be.
Venice is like all of us regardless of circumstance … different, dissolving, enduring, demandingly present.
(On the 10th anniversary of 9/11, Tales Told From The Road ran stories from its readers and other sources about their experiences traveling in the days surrounding 9/11. Over the coming days we will re-run many of those stories to commemorate a day in the history of the United States and the world that will long be remembered.)
“9/11 Remembered: Solidarity in San Francisco, Safe Passage to Venice” By Linda Watanabe McFerrin
On Tuesday, September 11, 2001, my writing group was scheduled to give a reading from an anthology of travel tales at Get Lost Books*** in San Francisco. Here is the message that I sent to the group about that night’s scheduled meeting:
“In the
wake of this a.m.’s terrible news, we will meet tonight, as planned, at Get Lost Books in San Francisco —not to promote the anthology, but for the more important feature of our association—as an act of solidarity and courage. We are all stunned, but we want to respond to terrorism with action.
“We will gather and discuss, with anyone who chooses to join us this evening, the blessings and dangers of travel, our personal freedom and anything else in this world worth defending. We don’t think we should allow acts of terrorism to shut us down. They should drive us to rally our strength and conviction.
“We will gather in sorrow, in reverence, respect and in prayer for the travelers who lost their lives today. We will try to create a forum for the pain and outrage, for the mourning and for the concern. We are all horribly shaken by this, but we can’t shrink from the catastrophe.
“Please join us, if you can.”
In light, Linda ”
The attack on the World Trade Center stopped us in our tracks … but we decided to show up for the event and invited the many who joined us to share their grief and horror and determination not to let terrorism throw us into isolation and fear and curtail our liberty. It was a profoundly comforting gathering, one that underscored the importance of community.
A little over a week later, several of us, keeping to our prior plans, flew to Italy for the same reasons we’d decided to meet at Get Lost Books. We were uncertain about our decision, but we discovered that the sense of community that heartens and strengthens knows no borders.
It was mid-September, 2001—only nine days after the inferno—and we were in Venice. Refusing to let terror hijack our lives, we’d flown to Italy. We sat, shaken and deeply stirred, in Venice’s Piazza San Marco, steps away from the tidal lap of the Adriatic, from Harry’s Bar—six American women marooned on a tear-threatened strand, not at all certain about our decisions. Should we have stayed home? We thought of Hemingway. We ordered Bellinis. Our waiter asked where we were from. “The United States,” we whispered.
All around us the piazza’s bandstands glittered like bejeweled half-shells cupping orchestras, jazz bands, string quartets—violins, woodwinds, brass— the music, plaintive, slipping into the moonlit night.
Our cocktails arrived and we raised our glasses. Then, unbelievably, the band changed its tune. Suddenly in our little corner of the enormous piazza—the center square of Venice, “La Serenissima”—“New York, New York” sailed out over the tables.
There was no longer a dry eye among us, but we were smiling too. And there were tears and smiles all around us. Completely vulnerable, profoundly touched, we had delivered ourselves into the hands of strangers … and these strangers had comforted us and taken us home.
Poet, novelist, and travel writer Linda Watanabe McFerrin lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. She frequently teaches at seminars for writers and is on the faculty of the annual Book Passage Travel and Food Writing & Photography Conference. She founded and heads Left Coast Writers which supports new and established writers in the production and promotion of their work in a stimulating atmosphere of creativity and community. Her novel Dead Love is set in the world of zombies. Dick Jordan was a student in one her travel writing classes in 1999. Both were in Venice a week and a half after 9/11 and, like ships passing in the night, their paths may have crossed while simultaneously transiting one that city’s famous canals. In 2016, Dick Jordan wrote this story about Venice.
(This story was originally published on September 14, 2011 with the permission of the author, Linda Watanabe McFerrin, who reserved all rights to its use or publication elsewhere.)
*** Editor’s note: Unfortunately, the Get Lost Books travel bookstore closed at the end of 2010.
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What a hauntingly beautiful article! It reminded me of visits to Venice and its centuries-old allure – its past, present and future simultaneously entwined in the arts, in humanity and the inevitable obscurity of time. Still, Venice mocks inevitability and offers solace to those who are rendered vulnerable by circumstance and/or deed. How marvelous that you were there to receive a Venetian blessing when the Plaza was filled with New York, New York. Thank you for sharing, Linda!