Here are some snaps from Venice [//]:# (!pinmapple 45.43864 lat 12.32187 long A wee visit to Venezia d3scr) where I was a few days ago... they were all taken with my silly-old phone camera, which doesn't take the best imagery; I'll add some written description to help illuminate the atmosphere of the photos!
I was staying with my ex's mum's in-laws, as she wanted company to travel north by train: we left Guardia Sanframondi, BN, and travelled up to Mestre, VE - via Telese Terme and Napoli: two car rides and two trains, in total.
Our big day trip we made, was pretty rushed and strained: the family are all highly-strung, and like to stomp a path from start to finish, without stopping to absorb anything (and mostly complaining about the tourists, the weather, the smell, etc)! I was very keen to go slowly, as I don't in general 'visit' places, but rather love to fully immerse: to sit and feel, to watch folks, elements, rhythms and customs, listen to voices, observe patterns and the passing of time...
I've been near to Venice before, but hadn't travelled onto the island: the trip here by car was breathtaking, passing small islands before getting to Venezia herself, and seeing the scale of the sea all around - although the sea is the Mediterranean, it is still quite a dramatic expanse of water.
And, as pictured above, this is what most struck me as we got out in the piazza for parking, and entered the waterways and pedestrian part of the main island. The first part we climbed up over a bridge into was a powerful convergence of water: sea and river, canal and all kinds of boating traffic pounding into the cross-section. A great amount of energy being thrown about.
The aged steps, travi/ beams and posts sticking out of the waters were beautiful: I love seeing age-worn things of all kinds, but water-affected are some of the most beautiful. Though the culture and architecture are utterly different, still the presence of tides and seaweeds, waves and seagulls, made me think of my home village on the Isle of Arran in Scotland, and how it is to live next to big water movements.
Much of the life here rotates around tourists traipsing through and consuming, rather than on subsisting from the environment... so as soon as we were in the main 'old town', there were things and services for sale.
Coming from an island with a summer tourism tradition, I've always had an aversion to the consumerist aspects of folks visiting a place temporarily. The tat and the mass-produced experience.... Above is a custom prevalent in Italy and other cultures; the attaching of locks as a metaphor of partnership. Not wholly negative, but most certainly a sheepy dreamspell vibing bondage and imprisonment, over polluted and churned up waterways... very symbolic.
Comunque, I was able to at least immerse myself fleetingly, and used copious moments of taking snaps, to just stop and absorb it all, to ruminate on the ages passed here - and to imagine what it must be to live on a wee quiet back street somewhere away from the touristy flows!
The gardens in particular fascinated me:
The keeping of plants in these beautifully-ensconsed spaces, which nevertheless are in close proximity to a potent sea. This felt magical and intriguing.
The juxtaposition of these waters, the gorgeous architecture, and the greenery, was quite a play on energetic properties - balance, friction, spaces commodified, ancient structures holding strong... in places.
Since I first saw images of Venice in my life, the idea of it being all sat in the sea, and precariously balanced on big logs pushed into mud: this put the willies up me (as we say in Scotland). I watched a documentary the night before, about the project to hold back the sea from flooding the city, and how expensive and effortful this was.
Things have such beauty in their ephemeral nature, though. I've never been one for 'conservation', and do feel strongly about letting Nature live through us and our buildings, rather than all of our energy going into fighting natural movements...
Walking around the streets, it was a marvel to observe the history of construction, and how it is still so very solid. At the same time, the sense of everything being accumulatively dissolved, effectively... quite beautiful.
The perfection of spaces and structures, and yet their vulnerability and impermanence.
I loved the sacred geometry of particular details...
And the coming in and out of contact with the waters: even in the quietest streets we walked on, there was always movement in the canals.
And the ubiquitous posts, marking stability and anchoring...
As we got deeper into the citdel, the streets seemed narrower and more packed with folks. We were there on the 1st of May, which is a big holiday for workers. we got there early enough to avoid the bigger crowds, but we had to push to get out as it got closer to lunchtime!
My trip companions were keen to keep moving, and the most refreshment I got to enjoy was a cappucino to take-away; I'd have loved to sit on a more empty street like this, and just listen and watch.
As we almost-jogged-along (!) I got glimpses of interesting architecural details - then we were on the next street and the next - I had to keep a close eye on where my friends were, as it'd be easy to be lost in the crowd.
Again, the oldest and most worn elements drew me in most: I could have sat and looked at this wall for an hour... such beautiful colours and passing of time...
We got the big famous piazza eventually, with quite tired feet, only to take a curving turn and start on our way back - wah! - not even enough time to be pooped on by a seagull!
Piazza San Marco is impressive, as far as I am impressed by patriarchal overdoing-of-things (i.e. yawn), but many of the buildings, here and in others streets, were powerfully interesting in how they embodied sacred geometry.
And astrology.
And painting.
The church towers in this part of Italy are particularly interesting, and made me think of the sacred geometry structures that 
I saw these perfectly-erected towers a lot between Venezia, Mestre e Padova, as well as perfectly-kept and clean(er) waterways in every small town. Not just the abundance of water, but how every waterway was so neatly flanked and evidently very well cared for: this speaks so strongly to the positive use of organisation in town planning. Consciousness and care. So beautiful to see, when I live in another part of the country where maintenance is more often something practised only when things are dangerous - or have already fallen down.
But yes, the sacred geometry, the aesthetic beauty and the balance are prevalent in this part of the country. It is a glorious thing to be around.
My favourite details: old brancehs become part of the metal and stone of this gate - and showing the age of the mature garden hidden behind the hedges. I would have so loved to go around these spaces!
A detail from the same gate: I adore this kind of mix of human and nature; a kind of green man/ with wings and a shell behind his head, also relating to the sacred feminine and divinity.
More of these beautiful towers, dotted throughout every citadel.
And wonderfully perfect domes, with these gorgeous colours against the pink-red sandstones...
Coming back, with aching feet and hips, it was refreshing to get some breath out of the hubbub of crowds: being in a more open space with the wider waters again was a relief.
Another favourite detail; the curve of the steps to facilitate getting into lower boats, and the lovely colours and movements of seaweeds.
Cheers to Venezia! This is the only photo I'll share of the touristy shop element: it's tiny wee beer, made in glass. Hehe. I took some snaps of the clothes in shop windows, which inspire me to possibly try and make myself. Very expensive clothing! I was amazed by how many shops there were in Venice...
