I know that everyone has heard of gondolas and gondoliers, but you do not really have an appreciation of what they do, or how all pervasive they are, until you walk around this city. There are only 420 gondolas left, most of which are in the service of carrying tourists around the city, carrying wedding parties to their receptions, and offering a canal crossing service. At one point there were over 10,000 of the things here! The reason that they are all black is that one of the Doges (Dukes to you) decided (in 1562!) that to prevent an ostentatious display of wealth, they would all be the same color. Now, as you pass over the various bridges where the gondoliers congregate, it is as if people are trying to sell you heroin. "Gondola? Gondola?" you hear them say in sotto vocce, as if tempting you with an illegal treat. I guess that works, though, because the way that they try to get you to go to the Murano glass factory is similar. "Murano? See the glass factory?" under their voice. Not that either activity is illegal, it is just that a seamy sort of appeal is associated with either activity.

While walking on a suggested route from one of Keith’s guide books (Keith? Oh yes, he returned. You might have seen him on the Ponte de Pugli with me in an earlier story. He came for a long weekend here.) we came across the only remaining Gondola shipyard in the city. They make about ten gondolas a year, and they cost 25,000,000 Lira! They are all handmade, with a slight lean to the left so that the paddling of the gondolier (broad backed Luigi of stories and movies) is somewhat offset. It is not MUCH of a lean, you would not notice it if you had not been told. The things are flat bottomed, and very narrow. I think that they last forever, and are handed down from father to son.

One day, while looking out of our window, a man and his two sons were in a gondola going down our canal. One of the kids was just sitting in the middle of the boat, but the other was standing at the rear, trying to drive. The father was in the front, with a paddle (Not polls. For some reason I thought that gondolas were polled, but they are paddled.). We are on a short stretch of a very narrow canal, and there are boats tied up on both sides, so there is not really all that much space. The poor kid was trying to get down without hitting boats, walls, or falling in. His father was very patient, and his brother didn’t say anything. But it did NOT look easy, though the adult gondoliers make it look as if it is not a problem at all.

When we finally decided that we should start using the gondolas, we started slowly. There is a ferry service that uses the gondolas to cross the Grand Canal at various points, called the traghetto. I think that means two guys standing in a gondola rowing like hell to avoid being run down by vaporetti, supply boats, or water taxis.

We used the traghetto at the Ca’D’Oro stop, which is next to one of the most spectacular palazzi on the Grand Canal. (Palazzo means palace. It is the generic term for "house". In some cases, like the Ca’D’Oro, this is appropriate. In others, such as our little place, it is less fitting) The quatrefoils and Moorish window designs are typical for Venice. (Know how it got to be called Moorish? They thought that they had enough filigree, but then they decided that they wanted just a little bit more…) This house at one time had gold leaf on the finials at the top (hence the name), vermillion and aqua marine on the face. It has been through many changes in the past 680 years (it was commissioned in 1420. Before Columbus was born!), but is still a beautiful place. My favorite story is that in 1845 a Russian Prince bought the place for a ballet dancer, and she destroyed the character of the place with all her "ill conceived" changes. John Ruskin was almost crying when he described what had happened to the place.

Even if there are only 420 gondolas in the city, it seems as if there are many more.

It turns out the gondoliers must pass a test given by the city. I was told that it entails both language and architecture, but based on my experience, it should be fairly easy to pass…

We finally succumbed to the "Gondola, gondola" entreaties yesterday, and had our own Broad Backed Luigi take us around the canals near San Marco Square. It was really a very nice ride, the views from the canals are almost always better than those from the streets, and the gondolier did have a few interesting things to say, but because we have read so much about Venice, we knew most of them already.

My favorite story (Which we were able to pull out of the gondolier) is a story about a pet monkey that was possessed by a devil, exorcised, and then it (the devil, not the monkey) forced its way through the wall by making a hole. An angel was put on the wall at the place of the hole, so that the devil could never return. Now, I know what you are saying – that I am making this story up. (For some reason, people sometimes doubt the truth of my stories. Bridge of Scythes notwithstanding, it is a rare thing when I make up something. Really! No, no, really.) But that is just not so! This, and many other interesting stories come from a book we bought in Paris called VENICE: A Literary Companion, by Ian Littlwood.

We also passed by Marco Polo’s house, and the house where Casanova MAY have lived.

Going into the Grand Canal, we passed by the Rialto Bridge (The Bridge of Scythes from Doreen’s previous story) and then proceeded back to the lagoon so we could go under the Bridge of Sighs. The gondolier asked if we wanted our picture taken under the Bridge of Signs, and of course we said yes. The result is below.

We passed by a couple of singing gondoliers, and most nights we have at least one batch of singing gondoliers pass by our apartment. It is always fun and romantic, but it must be expensive, because those singing boats always travel in packs of about five. That way you can share the singer’s cost. Last night, he was singing Canta no Llores. (You of a certain age will remember this as the Frito Bandito song. Aiy, yi, yi, yi. I am the Frito bandito! I love fritos corn chips I love them I do. Actual words something like this: Aiy, yi, yi yi. Canta no llores…) I always thought that was a Mexican song, but stranger things have happened. I was told (In all seriousness) that My Way is a French song. Heck, it may be! They can have it…

We have a few more days here in Venice, and I am going to tell a few more stories. About the Doges, the prisoners of the Doges, and more. I am sure you can’t wait!

BACK TO THE GRAND TOUR HOMEPAGE!