Today we began with Padua.
Now whenever I think of Padua, I think of William Shakespeare, And his play: "The Taming of the Shrew". And of course, the Cole Porter musical version thereof, "Kiss Me, Kate". So naturally, that music was going around in my head along with images of the incomparable Ann Miller dancing with guys in harlequin costumes and Howard Keel singing like ... well, Howard Keel. Especially the song "I’ve come to wed you wealthily in Padua".
But we didn’t see a wedding. We saw a funeral. That is, we saw the hearse bringing the coffin to the Cathedral. They parked very symmetrically just outside; and by the way, if you’re going to have a hearse, why not a Mercedes? What a way to go.
I’m getting slightly ahead of myself because we drove into Padua, passing some quaint buildings that we did not stop at. One was a large, but rather plain looking church in a very small Piazza. We were just going by as if we were going through a toll booth with an express pass. I snapped a photo, anyway. It was only afterward that I had a chance to research my photos, but I discovered that it was a church of some interest. Because it houses the earthly remains of one of the four Gospel writers. Saint Luke. Would have liked to have seen that.
But on we went.
We arrived at the Cathedral, which is dedicated to none other than - surprise surprise - Saint Anthony of Padua, a fine person by all accounts. You might call him a saint, and so would I. Some of Saint Anthony’s relics are in the cathedral, we walked past, but we didn’t go into that chapel. I wasn’t really too interested in seeing the tongue of the saint, preserve there. Pictures will do just fine, if at all.
The cathedral is impressive inside and out. We really enjoyed seeing it. I also enjoyed seeing a model of it, beautifully crafted, which gave an overview of the whole thing as if from a bird's eye.
Speaking of birds, on the highest point of the exterior of the cathedral, is a golden statue with a halo. And in the halo, some wise little bird had built its nest. I found that tremendously endearing.
Photographs were not allowed inside the cathedral, but they were allowed in the various courtyards, of which there are three.
There are two main highlights of the courtyards. One is an absolutely gigantic magnolia tree. It’s probably the sequoia of magnolia trees.
The other is what I call The Statue of the Flying Baby. Frequently Saint Anthony is pictured holding the Christ Child. I don’t know whether the child in the flying baby statue was supposed to be Jesus, or some other child. Or maybe representing all children? But it is a very beautiful and bright, dynamic statue.
Well worth seeing. Photos do not do it justice.
After our tour, we had some time to explore the wonders of Padua.
Padua is best known, if you don’t include Saint Anthony, for having arcaded sidewalks. A very clever idea, no matter what climate one might be in. If, for example, one lived in Minneapolis or St. Paul (but why would one do such a misguided thing?), arcaded sidewalks will shield one from the ravages of the winter weather. And in an absolutely scorching and dry climate, such as Cairo, arcades would play a similar function, shielding one from the sun, and creating a bit of shade, and therefore cooler temperatures. Padua is not known for either of these extremes, but it is known for its arcaded sidewalks. A few quaint photos of which I will show here.
Right across from the cathedral dedicated to Saint Anthony, is a shop that’s dedicated to religious items. Most of them are hand-carved out of wood. And quite lovely. We explored the shop, did some shopping for gifts for those who were back home in Florida missing us terribly, and had a lovely conversation with the young lady who is the proprietress of the shop. Her husband is the son of the people who oversaw not only the shop, but the workshops where many of these carvings were made. So it was very nice to chat with her.
Here I might as well say that almost universally English is spoken when you are in Italy. So don’t feel bad that you can’t speak Italian. And don’t let that prevent you from going. Keep in mind that all the people that you’re going to run into, whether you are in a shop or a restaurant or a taxi or a place of historic interest, is going to speak English. Indeed, the ordinary person in the street speaks English. It is that other universal language besides music.
There is an attitude that developed over the past 17 years or so. In Italy that is. When we were there in 2006 absolutely everyone greeted us as if we were long-lost cousins. I can’t tell you how wonderful the people were; warm, accommodating, appreciative, and just plain nice. Noticed a bit more aloofness on this visit. Maybe the Italians have gotten tired of the numbers of visitors who come their way. Tourism does make up about 8% of their national economy, so you would think that they would be at least slightly glad to see tourists.
More about tourists...
I know here living in Orlando, we are always glad to see the tourist. Because without the tourist, there wouldn’t really be much of an Orlando. Oh yes, it would still be a county seat. So it would have a courthouse, and the various people in the law professions to go along with any county seat. We would have some banks, although not nearly as many as it has. In Orlando, every tall building you see is a bank. It would have visitors, who would come here for the climate, and sit in rockers on the shady porches in the winter sunshine, and go around the golf links with or without their plus fours. But Orlando, pre-Disney and Orlando post-Disney are two wildly different things. And most of the people who live in Central Florida are absolutely delighted that Disney came to Florida. And is still here. And continues to make big investments in our infrastructure.
Oh, there are one or two Floridians that you might think of who make the news because they aren’t so thrilled about Disney. Don’t give them a second thought. Now or ever. Please. Thank you very much.
But, back to Italy. Almost everywhere you go in Italy you can find a place where people from other places have settled down. Famous British authors for instance. Or just outside of Florence you can find the place where Frank Lloyd Wright ran off to with a client's wife, and spent a happy sunny if illicit sojourn. Just around every corner you can find places associated with a quotation from someone from like Henry James, or a museum created by someone from elsewhere who was dedicated to art, such as Peggy Guggenheim. Travelers, who came and fell in love with Italy. If all of them had stayed home or gone elsewhere, well, that would’ve been a shame wouldn’t it?
Perhaps you’re thinking, after Pisa and Padua how can you top that?
Well, how about Venice? Because that’s where we ended up our day.
What you must say about Venice is that it is impossibly beautiful. There really isn’t any other way to say it. I mean how in the world could anyone have imagined a place that has waterways instead of avenues and streets? Who could have imagined that along its waterways is an incomparable collection of Renaissance buildings? And how would you picture little black boats going to and fro polled along by men in stripy shirts who just might break into song as they went? Who could think of a place that was dedicated to a spirit of Carnival, no matter what the season. A city filled with tiny bridges over tiny canals and big bridges over big canals. A place with a Piazza that was known as the living room of Europe, or maybe we should call parlor, if you will. Thank you, Napoleon, for that.
I have said to many, stand in one place in Venice, and just slowly turn 360°, aiming your camera at what you see and recording it. You will not have one bad photograph in the lot. You can work a little harder to get excellent photographs. But you really don’t have to work all that hard. Venice does most of the work.
Venice is supremely photogenic.
One of things that I discovered while we were in Venice, was that buildings that might particularly appeal to me, or scenes, turned out to be places and sites that particularly appealed John Singer Sargent, my favorite painter in all the world. I took several such photos on this trip, having no idea that he stood in the exact same spot, and painted the exact same scene, almost a century and a half ago. The scenes have hardly changed. The water is the same, the buildings are the same, the glimmering of the light is the same. All of it wonderful.
So one goes to Venice with a sense of excitement and anticipation, sense of romance and history, a sense of adventure Around every corner. And one is never disappointed.
Occasionally, one hears someone grumble about the canals. They say they don’t smell so great. We have never had that experience in Venice. Maybe we’re just lucky. Maybe there are other things more interesting to notice. Of course, we have not been swimming in the canals and never would. There’s a hefty fine and banishment from the city if you take the plunge. I don’t think anyone told Katherine Hepburn that, when she was taking a photo canal-side, in that movie in the 1950s, that ended up her getting some sort of a waterborne infection that plagued her the rest of her life. That’s an awful lot to give up, for one scene in one movie that almost nobody watches anymore.
But I digress as I’d like to do.
I knew that the hotel we were going to was conveniently close to, but hidden away behind Saint Mark's Cathedral. And it was. In a quiet part of the city, where, yes, there were the occasional tourists, but not nearly as many as most of the other corners of the city. Where, the next morning, looking at our windows, we could see, mamas and papas, taking their bambinos on the stroll to school. Up and over the bridges and alongside the canals. Absolutely charming. I mean some thing right out of that old Chef Boyardee commercial, except it was absolutely authentic. So much about Venice is both unimaginably romantic and also genuinely authentic. Or, if you will, authentically genuine.
You’re probably wondering about our room in Venice. We were too. We went to our room and went in. It was perfectly lovely. And had a window. We opened the curtain to look at the view. And we saw across a very narrow alleyway, the wall of the next building, a 14th century palazzo as it so happened. Oh we could exit the hotel so we could see the elegant facade or the sculpted window frames, but what we saw our our window were the pipes for the plumbing next door. And we were happy to know the Palazzo del Diabolo had indoor plumbing after all these centuries, but did we need such proof right there in front of our nose?
And yet, one always looks for the bright side. Turning to the right one saw the alleyway continue along until it reached a T intersection, and there was a building at the end of it. And that was it, not a glimpse of where that next alleyway went.
But turning to the left, one saw the bridge near the front of our hotel, and a little canal, and a somewhat more picturesque building on the other side of the bridge. Not exactly the view of the Grand Canyon at sunset, but a view anyway. Not that we were going to spend our whole time in our room, leaning and craning our necks looking left out of our hotel window. But the fact that I took in the view, came in handy the next day.
Dinner that night was in our hotel. It was fine. Not fabulous. But that’s OK. We were in Venice!
What could be better.
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