1. Asian Dragon / TRAVEL
Afternoon on the Grand Canal
ne fine summer morning in Venice, “Venice was, indeed, now crowded with visitors at
I was squeezing my way through the all seasons,” he was describing the year 1361, nearly
crowds on the tight streets of the Ri- seven centuries ago. When he further said of Piazza
alto district. Bobbing and weaving, I San Marco that “on most days (it) was a disorderly,
found myself behind a stocky, mid- hurly-burly of a place...,” he was talking of the 1500s.
dle-aged German in shorts, striding The stink of the canals: This seems to be some-
along, looking pleased with the world. thing that some people easily detect — I never have
Suddenly, ahead of him an African boy peeled smelled anything, apart from the salty odor of the
himself off the white marble wall of a church and sea. I asked a friend who had walked for days up and
moved on a course to intercept. Calling out, “Signore, down the city if he’d whiffed any fetor. He didn’t.
signore, special price!”, the boy showed the treasure The touristy image: Yes, Venice seems too gon-
he was offering — packets of small flat cardboard dola romantic, too cloyingly sweet, too beautiful to
Mickey Mouse figures that would dance frantically be true. Why is it that no matter where you look,
when stood in front of a boombox. it’s easy to find a postcard perfect scene? Even the
“Nein, nicht Mickey Mouse,” the Germal bus stops are photogenic. Isn’t it suspicious how
growled in a low tone so expressive, I could read the the palazzi along the Grand Canal are suffused by
subtitles: Kid, anything but that. a camera-ready gorgeous golden light in the late
The thought that of all the souvenirs anyone afternoon? Somebody must have fixed the sun or
would bring home from Venice – a delicate Carni- something, right?
vale mask, a glittering Murano pendant, even the In the 1800s, after Venice was ruined as a trad-
memory of the first vaporetto (water bus) ride on ing empire, it reinvented itself as a hugely popular
the Grand Canal – the thought that anyone would tourist destination. Perhaps this “must-see” reputa-
pick a dancing Mickey Mouse made me grin invol- tion grates on some people. They might also dismiss
untarily. Venice as your great grand aunt’s destination, fit
My smile must have been audible, because both only for turkey-trotting oldsters. Not a happening
the boy and the German turned around and looked place for those weary, jaded, endorphin-deprived
at me. Seeing my face, they both broke out into but hip world travelers whose idea of tourism con-
smiles of their own. The German good-naturedly sists of bungee jumping over Angkor Wat out of a
said again to the peddler, “Nicht Mickey Mouse.” helicopter half on fire, piloted by a one-eyed Rus-
It’s bright and dark, crumbling but exquisite, touristy but We went our separate ways, walking the narrow sun- sian paraplegic.
wonderful. Alan C. Robles explains why he’s in love with flecked streets of my favorite city. So why do I like Venice? The romantic English
Often, when I tell people about how much I poet Lord Byron said it for me: it’s “a fairy city of
like Venice, I get the feeling from their reaction that the heart.”
I might as well be rhapsodizing about Auschwitz. My own first visit was frantic. A backpacking
This has puzzled me, so when I sat down to write student on an Interrail race to see as much of west-
this story I made a serious effort to arrive at a logi- ern Europe as I could within a month, I arrived early
cal, thorough explanation for our totally differing morning, stayed one night and took the train the
attitudes. This is what I’ve come up with: next morning for Florence. In one day, I rode the
1. Why I like Venice: because it’s Venice. vaporetto number 2 down the Grand Canal, scoured
2. Why people hate Venice: because it’s Venice. San Marco’s Basilica, the belltower and Doge’s Pal-
Naturally there are details. In fact, there’s a bill ace, blitzed through the Accademia museum and
of major particulars I’ve heard from the haters: the the Rialto, elbowed my way through a sea of tourists
city is overcrowded, the canals smell, everything is on the Riva degli Schiavoni, and stood on the Bridge
beguiling contradictions
touristically commercial. of Sighs. That warm summer evening I stood at Pi-
The crowds: They’ve always been and will al- azza San Marco near the Campanile with a throng of
ways be there, though there are less people in winter boisterous fellow parvenu backpackers listening to
and spring. When Christopher Hibbert wrote that the schmaltzy band outside the opulent Caffe Flo-
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2. rian play Cielito Lindo. All of us were standing there Narrow street: actually a corner of an even narrower street.
some alleys are
because we were unwilling to sit down at a table and even narrower Back in Manila after that first trip, I read ev-
pay the cafe’s outrageous prices. than this erything I could about Venice. It was like trying to
It was cramped, it was touristy, it was hot and eat food by looking at pictures. It was years before
confusing. It was glorious. I was hooked for life. I could return, but I’ve since come back several
It was like being in a lost ancient city risen from times, the latest this year when I was a guide to a
the sea, shimmering in the sunlight, encrusted with close friend who’d never been to Europe. It let me
seaweed, flecked with the slime of antiquity. I was see Venice through the eyes of a first time visitor.
transfixed by combinations of water, stone, and light I thought: it’s so beautiful, it’s a cliché. Almost like
I’d never seen before; massive solid stone buildings, a theme park (something that hasn’t been lost on
glinting like jewel boxes, seeming to float delicately many: there’s a small reproduction of Venice in Las
on the water. The contradictions were beguiling — Vegas, and an incongruous half-sized Campanile
Venice was decrepit and exquisite, crumbling and standing right here in Manila’s McKinley Hill).
enchanting, bright and dark. It was a dreamlike We went to Caffe Florian and had zabaglione.
place of strange shapes, stunning vistas, palaces and As we sipped the eggnog and sat back contentedly,
ruins, mysterious labyrinthine streets. Up to now I my friend told me, “I’ll have to work hard so that
still eagerly watch how an inhabitant walks to the some day I’ll manage that smirk on your face.” He
end of an impossibly narrow street, turns and then was referring to the self-satisfied smile I have every
seemingly vanishes into the wall; later you see it’s time I am in Venice. AD a room with a view
When in
The glorious golden
light of a late
afternoon in Venice
Piazza San Marco — the Basilica
and the Campanile — at night.
Napoleon called it “the world’s most
beautiful drawing room”
Most people ever go to Venice to do books to both.
only two things: see Piazza San Marco 3. If you go to the Accademia mu-
and then ride a gondola. That works seum, invest in a guide that explains the
(though I’ve never been on a gondola). paintings
If, after finishing off the San Marco mu- 4. On a late afternoon (around
seums (don’t forget the Museo Correr), 4:30), if it isn’t raining, take vaporetto
the Basilica, and the Campanile, you number 2 from the Ferrovia, Santa Lucia
want to see more: train station to San Marco. Sit in front.
1. Use a good map and walk all over. 5. Find your way to the island of
About 10 years ago Magnetic North Torcello and look at the Last Judgement
came out with the excellent “Illustrated mosaic on its 12th century cathedral.
Map of Venice.” If you can find it, buy it. Rent the audio guide.
2. Visit the Scuola Grande di San 6. Eat gelato at Nico’s on the Zattere.
Even the Rocco and Frari cathedral (they are near It’s right near the bridge around the cor-
city’s decay is
fascinating each other). Make sure to buy the guide- ner from the gondola builders.
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