Venice - Day 2
On the second day, armed with the knowledge that the key to a successful day is hitting the streets
early, we started the day by enjoying sleepy Venice.
Empty piazza is catching it's last dream before the alarm goes off
There is something special about the place in the early morning: the canal and the little bridges, the crumbling facades and the little piers -- they
all make you feel like they are there just for you (well, maybe for that drunk guy who is leaning against the wall too)
We walked past the now familiar St. Mark’s square snapping some photos next to the requisite lion
Afterwards, we ventured in the direction opposite the one we took the day before and I kept an eye out for “Vivaldi’s” church (Santa Maria della Pieta).
The church where he wrote and performed a lot of his music. I was convinced that I found the right one, only to find out later on in the day that
I was off by one church. Here is smug Daniel posing next to the "wrong" church.
We ducked into a small side-street (I swear some of them are narrower than our hallway) that all of a sudden opened into a rather wide piazza
with an imposing gate which, judging by the quantity of the lions adorning it, at first looked like another sight-seeing destination, but turned
out to be a proper Italian Navy Arsenal.
In fact, a good chunk of the island there belongs to the Navy. Of course there was a museum next to it, but unfortunately it was closed. It would have
been great to check out what it had on the era of World War II diving exploits of Italian Navy, which was legendary, but it would have to wait for
another time. On the upside, a great café with delicious coffee and pastries was open, so we enjoyed our breakfast with a great view of the “Gate
of Many Lions” and continued to explore that side of Venice.
Soon we stumbled on another wonder - a really wide (by Venetian standards) via Garibaldi,
which lead to an even bigger wonder (again by Venetian standards) -- a large park. You don’t realize how much you miss trees in Venice until
you see a park and it strikes you how treeless the rest of the city is. The park also featured a truly majestic statue of a Lion with a small figure
of Garibaldi in a supporting role. It goes without saying that while sitting on the bench in the park, Olga and I agreed that if one were to buy any
real estate in Venice, a proximity to this park would need to be a deciding factor. Good thing we are always in agreement on such fundamental
issues.
Daniel immediately zeroed in on a new type of a pigeon - the white one and after a brief zoological discussion with Alice on the differences between
a pigeon and a dove, proceeded to chase it out of the park. I was trying to keep us on a schedule since we planned a visit to the island of San
Lazarro later in the day, but on our way back from the park we could not resist stopping to observe something that looked like a gathering of
Navy veterans for a solemn ceremony: lots of older gentlemen and some ladies in blue dress uniforms with various medals and ribbons congregated
next to the Arsenal. A group of several officers stood out, since they were wearing white cloaks. I was not sure at the time and hoped that we had
a chance to see the officers from the military corps of the Order of Malta, but subsequent research into the cross that they had on their cloaks yielded
no results. It does not match the cross of the Order, so it remains a bit of a mystery.
On our way back from via Garibaldi, we did find the "right" church of Vivaldi
and there is always time for another cup of Italian espresso
There is no way around taking a gondola ride in Venice, and we decided to explore the channels around the area of the Rialto bridge. As our
gondoliere expertly observed, you can always tell by the tilt of the gondola who in the family likes pasta more, and, apparently, gondola, being an
asymmetric boat, takes advantage of the tilt to make it easier to navigate.
Daniel did not trust the vessel at all at first, but soon enough was hard to contain in his seat as he resumed his duties as Alice's paparazzo.
All dreams come true, if you wish it hard enough as you glide under the Rialto Bridge
The ride was pleasant, but the flip-side of Venice from the canals left a mixed impression. The canal entrances to 800 year old palazzos were
once grand but today looked abandoned and decaying. Mossy stones, chained doors, rusted through window grates, and abandoned first floors
are everywhere.
Even when your eye catches a glimpse of a restoration effort here and there you can’t shake the feeling of a hopelessly losing
battle. You can blame the Napoleon or the doges that foolishly decided to pursue the land conquests and give up the sea, but the signs that the
fate of Venice was sealed more than 300 years ago are everywhere.
Not sure, what Daniel was trying to capture here, but check out the cool clamps holding the window from collapsing. I do have to mention that Daniel's
camera is an endless source of wonderful details from very cool angles. You want mossy stones, well, he has dozens of them with varying degrees of
moss coverage and focus; perhaps you are interested in rusted grates or petrified wood planks -- plenty of those, and just don't get me started on
the pigeons -- I am pretty sure I have enough to publish a book on them (God, some of them are creepy)
After our ride we had a quick lunch with lovely views of Rialto Bridge and the Grand Canal.
Food was not as memorable as the view and it was time to take our vaporetto (water bus) to the Armenian monastery on the island of St. Lazarro.
The island is generally closed for tourists and opens up only for one tour a day.
We took an earlier boat and had to wait, but luckily we were not alone. A merry group of Armenians from Belgium on a pilgrimage to the island was
waiting for their boat. They were fully equipped with a suitcase full of accouterments required for making Armenian coffee (grinder and gas stove
included) and we were warmly greeted and invited to join them for a cup of coffee and some chocolate. I claim that it doesn't qualify as a case study
(in the strict scientific sense) in leaving an Armenian on an island, only to find him in a very short while in the company of compatriots enjoying a
nice meal, but Olga, who went for a short walk around the monastery and returned to witness the scene below, insists that in her book it comes pretty
darn close.
Once our souls were warmed up, we were ready for the intellectual feast offered by the tour of the monastery. The garden inside the monastery
and the surrounding walls impose their own rhythm and very soon we all comfortably slipped into a peaceful and contemplative state of mind.
Tours are conducted by fathers who split visitors by the language preference. We were in the in Anglo-French group, but for a couple of tourists
from Germany our guide inserted some tasty German words every once in a while.
For the last 300 years the fathers have amassed an amazing collection of ancient books and manuscripts, ranging from the Armenian translation
of the Pseudo-Callistene's Life of Alexander the Great to the Book of the Dead in the Egyptian room. One of the things I always look for whenever
I get a chance to see ancient Armenian manuscripts are Illuminated Canon Tables, a special reference tables that attempt to "harmonize" the
Gospels. The tables show events from the life of Christ and offer references to relevant verses in the 4 gospels through a system dating
to the 3rd century. Currently accepted system of chapters and verses is quite new in comparison (13-16th century). I did not get to see any in the
exhibited manuscripts this time, but was interested to learn from the father who conducted the tour that this tradition, adopted by Armenian monks
from early Byzantine manuscripts, which focused on the 4x4 tables (4 main events, 4 canonical gospels), was often expanded to include more events.
Several years ago a great book of photographs of the manuscripts from their collection was produced and I can't recommend it enough.
The book has many examples of beautifully illuminated tables like the one below.
The monastery’s collection is not limited to books. Fathers collected all sorts of knick-knacks without any particular order or system.
Possibly that’s what life on an island does to you: you lose perspective and equally value anything that tides of time and sea bring
to your shores. In the glass cases next to each other you can see the sword of the last Armenian king who was buried in France next
to the “sample” coffee-grinder from Lebanon, the first passport of the short-lived Armenian republic (printed by the fathers) next to some
sample USSR currency from Soviet Armenia, a death-mask of Komitas whose last breath was witnessed by a Mkhitarist monk, next
to a painting of some Armenian foreign minister of Egypt. And, of course they have a real mummy from Egypt (probably gifted by
the cunning-looking Armenian foreign minister from the portrait) next to letters and translations from Lord Byron, who was incidentally
studying Armenian on the island. The tour was amazing and truly surpassed in its impact the museums of Venice. We had to leave
sooner than we liked, but the last boat to Venice was leaving and so did we.
While Alice and Daniel quickly recharged with gelato and were ready for new adventures, Olga and I were still under impression from
the visit to the island as we were walking home through bustling streets of evening Venice.
