Athena Magazine
for girls
My Italian Experience


Click here to get your
free subscription!
by Eve Solomon

Arriving in Venice from New York City is like switching universes. Suddenly, the subways
are boats, the taxis are gondolas, and the wide avenues that run the length of Manhattan
are replaced with small, hopelessly confusing alleyways. The biggest shock upon my
arrival, however, was not the topographical change, but the number of tourists squeezed
onto those small streets.

After my first year of college in New York City, I decided to continue my studies in
Venice, where I would be able to practice the language and immerse myself in the Italian
culture. I arrived in Venice on a rainy day when the city felt like it was engulfed in a cloud.
The streets of Venice are hardly large enough for two people to squeeze past each other -
let alone two people with open umbrellas - and on that Sunday every tourist in Italy
seemed to have congregated in Venice. As I navigated through the most touristy area, il
Sestiere di San Marco, I was jostled back and forth by groups of Japanese tourists all
carrying flags, and the occasional confused Dutch family, static on a bridge trying to
figure out from which direction they had come.
In St. Mark’s Square, I was drawn to
the beautiful music of a string quartet
coming from two cafés on either side
of the square and I made my way over
to the famed Caffé Florian. Outside,
about one hundred white iron tables
with two chairs each were dewy from
the rain, and under the overhang of
St. Mark’s square, lush sofas covered
in red velvet seats lined the sides of
the sidewalk where big groups of
tourists slowly meandered past. I
took a seat and was promptly handed a menu by an Italian waiter wearing a white tuxedo
and gloves.

My first disappointment came when the waiter spoke to me in English, and it was quickly
followed when I opened my menu to discover that it too was in English. To my left an
American couple began to bicker about who had forgotten the umbrellas, and as I
finished my 16 Euro cappuccino the most frightening thought crept into my mind: Was I
spending my “authentic summer abroad” in a museum full of tourists?

The next day, I moved into my residence on the Giudecca, an Island straight across
Venice’s Giudecca Canale, only one vaporetto (Venice’s ‘subway’ system of boats) stop
away from the main Island. To get from the vaporetto to my dormitory, I had to cross
two bridges, turn right down a narrow alleyway, and cross a third bridge. Despite my task
of lugging two heavy wheeled suitcases along this path, I noticed a Pescatore (fish
market), three coffee bars, a Salumeria, a Pizzeria, and a barbershop. The scent of
roasting garlic mingled with rapid, dialectic Italian as it floated out of a passing window.
In the alleyway, hanging plants and laundry adorned the brick walls, and window shutters
of forest green were swung bravely open. I strained to see through those windows into the
Venetian life.  

“Ciao, Bella!” a voice traveled toward me from a boat across an adjacent canal. I smiled at
its driver, and let the first Italian words resurface in my brain as I formulated a response.
I felt a sudden surge of hope and excitement that my previous day’s hypothesis had been
incorrect.

After two weeks in Venice, I fell into a routine that was shockingly different from my life
at home: I chatted with the barista as I breakfasted on a cappuccino e brioche each
morning, used the internet once a week at most, and spent my days and nights wandering
along canals soaking up the sights, sounds and smells of antiquity.

That summer, I discovered something great about Venice and about myself. The
romance of Venice lies in the details: the rocking of the boat as it took me home, the
family who lived in the apartment over a certain bridge, the paintings on the palazzi on
the Grand Canal. I also discovered my own ability to look past the tourists who crowded
Venice and to create my own authentic Italian experience. Sure, Venice is full of tourists,
but I learned to see beyond them to the soul of the city.
November 2007