Life Lessons from Venice

With Fun Facts and Photos and Only One Footnote

My husband and I just celebrated our twenty-fifth anniversary in the most romantic city on earth—Venice. While visiting museums, eating fabulous dinners, basking in the sun, and walking more than thirty-six miles in our four days there, I learned a number of life lessons, which I thought I’d share with you all.¹

If You Don’t Pay in Money, You Will Pay in Time

I had originally planned for us to take the public vaporetto from the train station to our hotel. This would have cost a mere fifteen euros, but having to wait for it to arrive, wend our way through the line to get on, and make the twenty or so intervening stops between the station and our hotel would have taken about ninety minutes. So I thought the better of it: We had limited time in Venice, and I didn’t want to spend the first, precious bit of it jammed into a steamy, overstuffed boat where we couldn’t see anything. So, at the cost of an additional fifty euros, I splurged on a private water-taxi. I’m so glad that just this once (I am usually kind of a cheapskate) I chose to pay in money rather than in time. We enjoyed the views during our smooth fifteen-minute ride to our hotel. Even better, we beat the storm that had been chasing our train as far back as Switzerland, which gave us a bonus hour to explore Piazza San Marco before the blustery wind tore my umbrella to shreds and forced us back to the hotel.

The view from the water-taxi dock when we disembarked, about an hour before the storm hit.

It is almost always the case that if we want to save money, we have to spend time. A schlep to Costco is cheaper than ducking into the convenience store around the corner. Hours of online comparison-shopping gets us better prices than if we just grab the first offer we see. When we do our own cleaning, yardwork, taxes, or any other chore, we trade our time for money. Often we don’t have a choice; few of us can afford to outsource these tasks. And sometimes we’re lucky and truly enjoy these activities. Case in point: Our family almost never gets take-out or eats in restaurants not only because of the savings, but also because I love planning, shopping for, cooking, and even cleaning up after meals.

And I come by my do-it-yourself bent honestly: When I was a kid, my dad was our repair guy for everything, and while he might not admit it, I know that he secretly enjoyed it. I fondly remember him scouring the classifieds on weekends, looking for bargains on parts for our constantly-broken-down car. I think our lemon of a Pontiac, our washer, dryer, and dishwasher, our blowdryers, and boilers, and every other recalcitrant device inside and outside of the house posed a fascinating challenge to him. Anyway, even though we usually do our own chores because we have to watch our wallets—and sometimes also because we enjoy doing them—I do think that for special occasions it’s ok to spend some money to save some time.

Get Lost

My husband’s cousin lives part of the year in Tuscany, so before our trip I asked her for a few tips and recommendations. She had only one: Get lost, because wandering the winding streets of Venice is one of life’s great experiences. As it turns out, we didn’t need this advice; the streets of Venice are so narrow and labyrinthine that GPS and Google Maps don’t work well. We found this out the hard way and got lost multiple times during our stay. But while we were getting lost, we discovered hidden treasures, like neighborhoods where Venetians actually live. We saw kids racing home from school, laundry hung out like Tibetan prayer flags, and of course plenty of dogs.

The rarest sight imaginable in Venice: A street that’s totally devoid of tourists!

This loosey-goosey approach to travel was a departure for me. I am an extremely organized person, and, with the goal of making the most of our limited time on our family’s previous trips, I created detailed advance itineraries, complete with routes to each attraction, museum, cathedral, or historical site; bought tickets in advance; and even made reservations for most of our meals. (I know that I sound like no fun at all, and my kids would confirm that there was a forced-march aspect to some of our trips. Sorry, guys!) If you are a spontaneous, free-wheeling kind of person, you likely don’t need to be told to let go and get lost. But if you are a planner like me, I can assure you that it is a wonderful feeling to stroll around aimlessly, on our trips and in our lives. Who knows what you’ll discover?

Respect the Work of Ordinary People

Early risers like me are treated to a special sight in Venice that typical tourists miss: all the labor that goes into sustaining a city of low-slung islands atop a saline, marshy lagoon, with no soil, vegetation, or ground water whatsoever. Literally everything necessary to sustain human life except oxygen must be boated or piped into and out of Venice. Take water: In the past, Venetians trapped rainwater in draw wells at the center of the large campos you find throughout the city. The rainwater flowed to the center of these slightly inclined courtyards and filtered down through layers of sand to make it potable. Now the water is piped in from the mainland; life on the islands would be impossible without these clever innovations and careful maintenance.

Or check out these guys:

I took this photo at 8:20am near St. Mark’s Basilica. I like the visual rhyme of the diagonally-stacked boxes and the diagonal paving stones.

Early in the morning, before the gondoliers ply their trade, the canals are filled with delivery boats like these. The workers pack the boxes onto carts, harness up, and pull them through the streets. They do this with amazing skill and grace—we entertained ourselves one day watching several men toss giant crates of glassware (labeled “FRAGILE”) as well as cases of wine from their boat to workers on the shore. Not a single item was dropped. As a klutz whose wine glasses rarely see their first birthday, I was in awe. And throughout the day, garbage and sanitation boats (or at least I think that’s what those cylindrical tanks were; I didn’t want to inquire too closely) haul the refuse out. The phenomenon of Venice only exists thanks to workers like these, and watching them made me feel grateful and humble.

Ask Yourself, Are We the Baddies?

“Are we the baddies?” comes from one of my favorite comedy sketches:

I thought of this sketch when, shortly after entering the Doge’s Palace, we were confronted with this menacing mail slot, into which citizens used to slide anonymous denunciations of anyone, for any reason, to unleash the power of the authorities upon their enemies:

The “Mouth of Truth” in the Doge’s Palace.

The signs in the Palace assure us that the trials were fair, but somehow I doubt it. How could they be fair, if accused people were not able to confront their accusers, or even know who they were? In addition, secret accusations are a perverse incentive: If there is no penalty for a false accusation, why not, say, rat out as a witch the herbalist who is undercutting your apothecary, or denounce as a heretic your neighbor who sings drunkenly at all hours? On their way to their dark, dank cells, condemned prisoners crossed the Bridge of Sighs, which has ironically become one of the top tourist stops and photo ops in Venice:

The view from inside the Bridge of Sighs. In the past, this was often the last sunlight that prisoners ever saw.

All this is by way of saying that when we accuse someone of wrongdoing or take an action we think is good or congratulate ourselves on our virtue, we also need to remind ourselves that we may in fact be making things worse. Today’s Twitter mobs may not condemn their main characters to the Doge’s prison, but they condemn them to social exile nonetheless. The chief insight in Jon Ronson’s excellent book So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed is that the targets of online public shaming usually did in fact do something wrong, but their punishment is always wildly disproportionate to the offense. Even worse, those who pile on get an unseemly pleasure out of their allegedly righteous indignation. I recommend Ronson’s book to everyone. And, on the other side, conservatives may have the goal of protecting kids, but purging books from school and public libraries and threatening already-overburdened teachers—whose only offense is teaching our history honestly—with investigations, lawsuits, and firings are what the baddies do. Let’s not be like those medieval snitches who anonymously rained down judgment on their neighbors; let’s instead ask ourselves before we act, “Will I add to the good or to the evil in the world?”

Carpe Panem

One afternoon, as we sat canal-side eating gelato, we were tremendously entertained by this fellow:

This seagull is by my reckoning the apex predator in Venice. (My kids would likely tell you that seagulls are detritivores, not predators, but I stand by my assessment.) Several other seagulls were tussling over a hunk of bread, and this guy stood off to the side, watching and waiting. One gull dropped the bread, and whoosh! Our seagull friend swooped in, grabbed it, and gulped it down. Seize the bread! The lesson from our seagull friend is that whatever your goal may be, and even if you aren’t the strongest, fastest, greediest, or most aggressive in the group, you can still prevail if you are clever and patient.

The seagull also illustrates a more pessimistic lesson about looting. That hunk of bread passed from one seagull to another multiple times before it was finally devoured. Which brings me to the Bronze Horses of San Marco:

My photo is a poor substitute for the experience of beholding these magnificent, life-sized sculptures in person. Carbon-dating puts these horses all the way back to 175BCE; they were cast from clay molds using the lost-wax technique. (Lost-wax casting is an enormously complicated process involving a dozen steps. You can read more about the technique here.)

Like the hunk of bread, the horses have passed from hand to hand throughout history. According to legend, they were sculpted somewhere in what is now Macedonia in the time of Alexander the Great. (Historically-informed readers will note that Alexander the Great is quite a bit earlier than 175BCE. I make no judgments but just print the legend.) Nero coveted them, seized them, and brought them to Rome; Constantine coveted them, seized them, and brought them to Constantinople; then the Venetians to Venice, ditto; then Napoleon to France, ditto; then the Venetians, ditto again. The horses have lived in Venice ever since and are now being devoured by air pollution. The sad truth is that history is rife with stories like this, where one country loots treasure and territory from another. We can hope—and work for—the day when all people live safe and unmolested. And in the meantime we can send our support to the victims of invasion and war, for example here.

The Answer to the Question You Don’t Ask Is No

This is a favorite saying of my mother-in-law. The first time I heard her say it, my mind was blown. “Whoa!” I thought. “You can ask for what you want instead of muttering to yourself, ‘Never mind, I’ll just sit here in the dark’!” I am normally not at all assertive, and my inclination is never to ask for things, because I don’t want to put anyone to any trouble. So I have found this saying to be an especially helpful way to remind myself that it doesn’t hurt to ask.

For example, on our last day in Venice, I was excited to try out a restaurant that had been recommended to me by two different friends, both of whom have impeccable taste. I always check restaurant websites beforehand to be sure they have something I can eat, but the chef at this restaurant makes up an original menu every day, so there was no online menu. I decided to go for it anyway, because one friend had assured me the restaurant was vegetarian-friendly. When we got there, I took a look at that day’s menu and, sure enough, not a single item (except the wine) was vegetarian. The waitress saw the disappointed look on my face and asked if everything was ok, so I decided to give it a go: “I’m a vegetarian, and I’m not sure I can eat anything here.” She suggested that the chef could create a special two-course lunch for me. Would soup followed by pasta be ok? Yes! I said, excitedly. Check out the soup he came up with. Isn’t it beautiful? It was every bit as delicious as it looks, and I bet the chef enjoyed using his creativity to come up with dishes I would like.

Asparagus soup! It’s like they knew I was coming!

I wound up having a much more special experience at that restaurant than I would have had, had I grumpily confined myself to wine while my husband feasted. I’m glad I asked!

How about you, readers? What life lessons have you learned from your travels? Please share your thoughts in the comments!

The Tidbit

Enjoy these fascinating facts about Venice (sources are my Rick Steves guidebook as well as these websites here and here):

Casanova was incarcerated in the Doge’s Palace prison not for seducing wives of important men, or winning big at gambling, but rather because he was suspected of being a magician.

The Campanile that stands in front of St. Mark’s Basilica is comparatively new. In 1902, it fell over into the piazza. Miraculously, it didn’t hit anything (except the ground), and its golden angel landed upright at St. Mark’s door. It was rebuilt in 1912.

It is very difficult to become a gondolier; only three or four new licenses are granted each year. Candidates must take four hundred hours of training, apprentice themselves to a master gondolier, and pass an exam.

The word “ciao” originated in Venice. It is a contraction of “s’ciavo vostro,” which means “your slave.”

The entire city of Venice is held up by petrified wood. The city’s builders imported alder logs from Slovenia and Croatia (alder is known to be water-resistant) for the foundations of all the buildings. Over the centuries, the wood petrified underwater.

Venice is sinking into the sea at the rate of about two millimeters per year.

Ciao, Venezia!

1. Unless otherwise indicated, all facts in this piece come from the Rick Steves guidebook to Venice.