Feeling Venezia

by John Wahlberg (Canada)

Making a local connection Italy

I saw Venice, I felt Venezia. There was no McDonalds, no Gucci. The lack of tourists made it possible to feel the local life in Cannaregio. Smiles were genuine and given freely. Venetians looked at me like I was lost. They were willing and eager to help me discover something new about myself and Venezia beyond the must see sights listed in my Ultimate Venice Travel Guide. The experience was about being here and less about getting there, or anywhere for that matter. Sitting in the small cafe and bookstore I slipped back in time while sipping an espresso. My smartphone was on airplane mode in my pocket. It did not belong here. This connection was local and beyond cyberspace. If I became physically lost, I would be spiritually found. The cafe owner saw a customer outside having a conversation with a gentleman. She started to prepare an espresso. A small pastry was placed in a brown paper bag. A friendly greeting was exchanged when the woman entered the cafe. The ladies smiles were big, and their emotion palpable. In three quick sips the espresso was gone, the pastry placed in the womans reusable grocery bag at home beside an eggplant and a loaf of fresh bread. I felt like I was in an era when plastic bags had not yet been invented, and if they had been, they were not welcome in Venezia. No money exchanged hands. The transaction took place through their words, smiles, and laughter. Perhaps the tab would be settled at a later date, more probably the cafe owner would be on the receiving end during their next encounter. Time was irrelevant in this quiet cafe. Although time marched on it held less importance than it had since I crossed over the Ponte dei Tre Archi from Venice into Venezia. I looked over the books on the shelves. I did not read Italian and had no understanding of the language beyond ciao and grazie. A children's book caught my eye. Flashing back to my childhood I was once again turning the pages of a book with words written in it that I could not understand. There was no frustration, I admired the illustrations of brightly coloured fish and made up my own story. The cafe owner glanced my way, our eyes met, she smiled and quickly went back to polishing her espresso machine. She knew that I was unable to read the children's book. I am sure she could sense that I deeply appreciated the love and skill that went into the beautiful book. In this part of Venezia there was no need to share a common language. Our energy through our eyes and smiles was all that was needed to convey our thoughts. Hours could have slipped past in the cafe. I refused to look at my watch, and most certainly was not going to pull out my smartphone. I rose from my chair, my movements were unintentionally slow. I was pushing through time like wading through a shallow pool. There was no rush. No one had rushed in, around, or through this cafe for quite some time. The euros that I pulled out of my pocket seemed out of place. Having no idea how much my espresso cost, I smiled at the cafe owner and handed her a five euro note. Could it be more expensive than that? She smiled and pressed some coins into my palm. I thanked her in English and put the coins on her small counter. The cafe owner looked at me strangely, smiled again and nodded. Simultaneously there was everything to see and nowhere to go. I had shared these moments not only with the cafe owner but with everyone who had come before me, and everyone who would come here after I had left. The sun was much higher in the sky as Ieft the cafe. Standing on Fondamenta Misericordia, I gazed upward to let the sun warm my cheeks. Follow the warmth, I would follow the sun. There was no right or wrong direction. There was no time except the present. There was Venice to see, and Venezia to feel.