Driving through the hills of Tuscany on our way to Venice we streaked past so many hillside towns all beckoning us to stop awhile and rest our hurried heads. But time once again our enemy was in pursuit and we needed to get to the city of water before the evening shades were drawn.
Water to water and sunlight to dusk Venice stood proudly as we penetrated her veil of silence. It was a dank and pouting day when we entered into the magic of this solemn city. Our gondola parted the restless waters as we stepped out from the safety of the sheltering small tributaries and plunged into the vastness of the Grand Canal. I was taken by surprise at the greatness of this watery way for what had appeared to me to be a miniature maze had become colossal. It seemed only fitting that our welcome be a wet one since our hostess was the daughter of Neptune.
Our first morning arose like fire from the sea and steamed across the horizon. Framed in the ancient window of our hotel room San Giorgio stood transfixed by the fiery sunrise and floated on a mist of ether. Whether morning or evening, the skies over the lagoon were always ablaze with the molten surf of the sun. We wandered through our first day in Venice and, stopping only for brief bits of sustenance, explored our new world in wonderment. The city like a serpent ever winding enticed us on. If indeed Venice is sinking into the lagoon I’m sure that it will arise again for such a marvel could never be contained. Ignoring the rush of the rest of the world Venice floats serenely on a tapestry of renaissance splendor. Every brick and stone sang a song of past glories, every sight and smell a reminder of its mortality. A city of many seasons this Dowager sits on her tarnished throne and remembers moments of romance that have all but vanished in the dust of a new day, yet are easily distilled by the touch of her hand.
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