When Lucas, one of my best friends and my regular travel buddy, suggested a couple of weeks ago to seize the unique opportunity to see Venice without the hordes of tourists, I got enthusiastic immediately. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Because what was it really like in Venice, where the crowds of tourists haven’t returned yet but corona no longer dominates daily life?
Soon we were talking about her four-year-old son and her worries about finding a good teacher. While she confided to me that she wasn’t the biggest fan of his current teacher, she leaned forward to be able to talk softer
Although I had been to Venice twice before – the first time as a teenager in 2006 with my parents and brother, and the second time in 2016 for the Venetian Carnival with a large group of fellow students from the University of Rome – its beauty instantly took my breath away as if it was the first time. Venice is probably the only city in the world where the public transport goes over water instead of by trams and buses, and right after my arrival I got on one of those boats. It came to half pas eight already and as the sun was setting, a magical pink glow came over the city that made it even more beautiful than I could remember. Beatrice, a born and raised Venetian and the owner of the apartment we rented, was already waiting for me. Since Lucas would arrive only hours later, she invited me for an aperitivo. Just us girls. Soon we were talking about her four-year-old son and her worries about finding a good teacher. While she confided to me that she wasn’t the biggest fan of his current teacher, she leaned forward to be able to talk softer. Venice was more of a village than a big city, she said, so she couldn’t say this out loud and risk that her complaints would become the talk of the day in the local gossip circuit.
It has something totally surreal that in this city, which usually seems to be completely taken over by millions of tourists, a parallel world exists of Venetians worried about the opinion of the neighbour and the girl behind the counter
This was the first moment when I realised that it has something totally surreal that in this city, which usually seems to be completely taken over by millions of tourists, a parallel world exists of Venetians worried about the opinion of the neighbour and the girl behind the counter. As a tourist, you literally feel like one of thousands. Completely anonymous because you vanish into the infinite crowds of people who move from sight to sight like a flock of sheep while often missing the soul of the city – which is actually right in front of you.
Normally she didn’t have time for this, and, so she confessed, she probably didn’t do so much of an effort
When we said goodbye after a delicious aperol spritz and some bites, Beatrice and I agreed that it seemed like we’d known each other for years already. Normally she didn’t have time for this, and, so she confessed, she probably didn’t do so much of an effort. But since I had arrived all by myself and told her that I had no plan at all – in contrast to most of the guests she’d had so far, who would immediately stand with the Lonely Planet and travel blogs in their hands, already exactly knowing where they would go out for dinner – she had invited me spontaneously.
Everywhere I looked, there were little groups of people on the streets talking to each other, mainly in Italian, and I heard three old ladies with a slightly satisfied expression on their face sighing that the city was so tranquilla, quiet
It was almost midnight when Lucas finally arrived and we couldn’t wait to go to sleep, because the sooner we would, the sooner we could see the beauty of Venice at dawn. We passed the most beautiful canals, churches and streets. Luckily the city was not empty, even though the tourists still hadn’t returned. Everywhere I looked, there were little groups of people on the streets talking to each other, mainly in Italian, and I heard three old ladies with a slightly satisfied expression on their face sighing that the city was so tranquilla, quiet. It crossed my mind that this exact bench near the San Marco square and most likely right in front of their houses was probably only really free for the first time in years. So free that you could sit there for hours and watch the people passing by with peace of mind. After a cappuccino on a shady square under the trees Lucas and I continued our stroll. On the many bridges the gondoliers with their striped T-shirts and typical hats sat with a bored look on their face as their gondola boats remained empty except for the odd ride.
I heard how the young girl on the screen commented that daddy had much more time to chat now, and enthusiastically she told him about the gelato she had just had
Oh, those gondoliers. Venice wouldn’t be Venice without them but usually – with their cliché outfits and singing – they contribute quite a bit to the fact the city feels more like Disneyland than an actual city. Their smooth way of talking tourists into their boats and then the amount of money they dare to ask for a 10-minute ride didn’t really give them the best reputation in many people’s eyes. But that afternoon I sat down on the railing of a bridge to take a break from walking in the heat. Right next to me a gondolier was enthusiastically video calling with his daughter. I heard how the young girl on the screen commented that daddy had much more time to chat now, and enthusiastically she told him about the gelato she had just had. The father’s love for his daughter was radiant, and I realised that this too was a precious piece of that often so invisible parallel world I now got to see.
I stopped for a moment to think about her life. Probably she was born here on this tiny island, maybe even in this house, a child in a poor fisherman’s family
The next day we visited the islands, Burano and Murano. Burano is a beautiful island full of brightly coloured houses. There were some tourists but I can’t even imagine what it must be like in high season. A lady at a very old age hung out of the window of one of the most beautiful houses to get her laundry inside, to then quickly close the shutters again in an attempt to keep out the heat. I stopped for a moment to think about her life. Probably she was born here on this tiny island, maybe even in this house, a child in a poor fisherman’s family. She didn’t know better than this little island being her home. How bizarre must it be for her that the island, her island, was nowadays flooded with tourists from all over the world? That at any moment of the day, even when she would poke out her head for a minute to check on her laundry, dozens of people were photographing her house? I tried to put myself in her shoes, but I really couldn’t imagine what it must be like.
Immediately, I decided to buy that pen and enthusiastically I entered the store. However, I realised too late that I was not wearing a face mask, and the woman behind the counter came rushing towards me. A bit suspicious she asked me what I was looking for
In spite of the magic of a Venice with hardly any tourists, we were also confronted with the damage that had been done in the recent period. Several shops that kept their doors closed had announcements on the door saying in Italian that unfortunately they wouldn’t open again. Due to the lockdown they had not made it. I passed a cute, old shop selling office supplies when I noticed a little note on the window: “Please buy a pen and save our shop!”. Immediately, I decided to buy that pen and enthusiastically I entered the store. However, I realised too late that I was not wearing a face mask, and the woman behind the counter came rushing towards me. A bit suspicious she asked me what I was looking for, but when I pointed out the note to her and said I wanted to buy a pen, her face softened. Due to my absent mask, I was given an extensive presentation of the assortment of pens in the doorway. Did I want a black or blue one? Did I have big or small hands, and long or short fingers? How did this pen feel in my hand? Never before had I received such a fantastic service based on knowledge and years of experience when buying a pen.
At a pharmacy in the city centre there is a digital counter in the shop window that keeps track of the current number of inhabitants. Next to it there is an overview of the decline in the number of inhabitants and the figures give a clear impression
Despite the fact that tourism has brought enormous prosperity to the city, it has made the local life decrease in large proportions. At a pharmacy in the city centre there is a digital counter in the shop window that keeps track of the current number of inhabitants. Next to it there is an overview of the decline in the number of inhabitants and the figures give a clear impression. Whereas Venice had 108,426 inhabitants in 1971, in 2008 there were only 60,704 left. Today, the counter indicates 51,696 Venetians. Twice a day, Lucas and I walked by to see if the number changed, but during these three days it (fortunately) stayed the same.
Forget the Lonely Planet and ask the man on that little bench where you should go for dinner. And why not invite him to join you?
Right now, many people are saying that we shouldn’t want to go back to our ‘old normal’ from before the corona crisis. We shouldn’t want that mass tourism anymore. The gigantic cruise ships that are so big that they cover half of Venice in shade when they arrive in a port that actually isn’t made for ships of that size. I guess we all fully agree with that. But at the same time, we want to keep going on holiday, and continue to enjoy the immense beauty of Italy. For Venice, and the whole of Italy, it brings a lot of income that the country now needs more than ever. But that beautiful parallel world, often so invisible to the person on holiday, should never be lost to tourism. And I firmly believe that it can go hand in hand. So next time, buy a pen in the local bookshop instead of a five-euro Venetian mask that is actually imported from China and destroying the market for genuine Venetian craftsmanship. Forget the Lonely Planet and ask the man on that little bench where you should go for dinner. And why not invite him to join you? Who knows, you might end up with a Venetian friend for life. A few days later, having arrived in Rome, my phone vibrated. It was an enthusiastic message with a photo of Beatrice and her son. She asked me to come back to Venice soon, so I could meet her sweet boy.