Venice in the Rain isn't like Seattle in the Rain

Food and wine writer and generally cultured fellow Ronald is currently traveling in Italy--but that can't stop him from writing for Seattlest. Here's a "postcard" he's just sent from Venice.

Photo of Venice (sans rain) by Ronald.

It feels like winter here in La Serenissima (that's what the Venetians call Venice). The sky is leaden, and the piazzas are almost empty except for a handful of North Africans who have materialized with 5-euro mini-umbrellas; they stay in touch with each other by cellphone. From the Accademia bridge, a German tourist tries to pierce the gloom with his camera flash. That's like trying to light up Seattle from the Space Needle with a point-and-shoot.

On the periphery of the Campo San Stefano, half a dozen cafes serve lunch under a canopy of canvas. Bored waiters wielding brooms poke and nudge the accumulated water to the edge, where it cascades onto the outermost row of tables. "Cambia domani," they say, without conviction; it's going to be better tomorrow. (He was right, though.)

The Biennale is on, the once-every-two-years show of the most outrageous avant-garde art from around the world. Art of all kinds--sculptures, paintings, performances--is on display and being performed in museums, gardens, public squares, palazzos. Venice itself is a giant living museum, of course, even with the lights turned low. Along the maze of side canals are neighborhood bars where young and old stop for a glass on the way home. Prosecco, spritz, Campari Soda. Cicchetti are nibbled. It's a much more reasonable price than "happy hours" in Seattle, too: $2.50 for a glass of Prosecco, $3.50 for a bottle of Campari & soda. The snacks go for a buck fifty.

Back on the square a couple of tourists hurry past, protected by hooded white ponchos; they look like they're going to a KKK rally. Everyone wears sensible shoes. The wind shifts and my tablecloth gets soaked. All is quiet except for the church bells. Church bells! On a weeknight!