A magical place is Venice. A bizarre little paradise of winding canals and gently sinking buildings, everything is not quite straight in Venice. Even through the buzz of tourists, it seems quiet here without traffic noise - you can only navigate the city by foot or by boat. Every bridge you cross brings another beautiful view of tiny alleyways spanning out in rippling waterways like veins.
In the morning, before the shops open and the tourists flock, the city is a near-silent maze and the buildings are still and quiet in their crumbling beauty. The population has lost 100 000 people in the last hundred years, so now the floating city relies on tourists paying exorbitant prices, which means that before the masses invade - and man do they invade - the whole place seems almost deserted. At 10, like clockwork, the thousands cram themselves into the tiny streets, photographing every doorway and cobblestone. Vendors pop up on every street selling masks and jewelery and glass and tourists throw their euros around (I know I did), but even when the streets are full and the alleys echo with the clicks of camera shutters, Venice still feels like a dream, a deserted city filled ever temporarily with adoring friends.
No comments:
Post a Comment