I’m fairly certain that there won’t be very much to be learnt here, Italian or otherwise. Nevertheless let’s soldier on and see if I learned anything. Last month I was on a short trip to Venice, primarily to meet up with two Australian friends, but also to have a little time on my own. Great idea right? A single man spending some time alone in a city that’s a destination for those of a romantic inclination, all that floating around on gondolas, kissing in canals (not an intentional euphemism) and so forth. Whilst there meet up with a couple in a longstanding relationship so I could continue my ‘third wheel’ status. Additionally I would shoot some Street Photography in a place that the streets are in fact flooded, now known as Canal Photography. Don’t panic, it’s not one of those “I was much further out than you thought. And not waving but drowning” kind of blogs. That Stevie Smith poem just sprang to mind, it’s all that water. I can report that it was a fabulous break. I waved a few times and didn’t drown or at any point feel the need to.
Venice is just a two hour plane hop from here. I flew with the dreaded and always to be avoided Ryanair. I say dreaded, it’s only what you read. Lesson: ‘Don’t believe all the reviews’. The flight departed bang on time, arrived very early, the crew were exceptionally pleasant and I wasn’t charged for anything extra such as using the toilet. Ryanair performed their role as an airline flawlessly.
I strolled out of Marco Polo airport, stress free and lit a cigarette. I’d already decided on my route and best option into Venice itself. I looked at the bus information sign for around 30 seconds and bought a ticket. I know some travellers worry about this kind of thing, it’s generally simple and made obvious wherever you might be in the world. Lesson: ‘You’re not the first tourist who wants to transit from an airport to a city’. In this case from Marco Polo Airport to Piazzale Roma. That Piazzale is where everything on wheels (apart from luggage) terminates. Thereafter you’re using your feet or taking a boat.
That photo reminds me of the hard graft allowing a city on water to function. A bit more of that in a moment. I alighted the bus, lighted another cigarette and opened Google Maps on my phone to find my hotel. That bloody phone, there’s always something that stops it being used. Lesson: ‘Stop relying on IT’. Time to go analogue then. I bought a map, opened it up and looked for “The Charming Place Santa Fosca”. I couldn’t see it and trusted to intuition, that’s something which hasn’t always proven to be very reliable over the years. I started walking in an imagined general direction of my hotel. I was transported into another world, one of incredible beauty, a lot of canals and of course endless bridges to keep your feet dry. Anyone who’s experimented with walking on water will know that it rarely ends well.
Good grief, I was right. Twenty five minutes later and a very enjoyable coffee during which my phone temporarily came to life and fleetingly confirmed I’d chosen the right route, I arrived at my hotel. It was next to a canal, I’d suggest that would be hard not to be next to or very near one in Venice. It was a superb location. Let's discuss photography. If you’re expecting photos of St Mark’s Square or Piazza San Marco as a person fluent in Italian such as myself might say (I’m not, but did try to teach an Italian how to speak Italian, more in a moment), pigeons flying up from the square (Mi scusi, Piazza) then you’re going to be disappointed. We photograph what draws or interests us.
I took that shot having breakfast at my hotel. Those guys were there everyday, emptying the refuse bins and collecting from residents. I found it interesting. Obviously there’s no room to store rubbish and so it’s a daily ritual. The building across from the bridge was being renovated, barges full of building supplies mooring up. The builders transferring it by hand to the site. Actually I missed the best shot because in the window above those two guys on the left an adonis appeared. He’d clearly just woken, was caught in the golden morning sunlight streaming through the window, those olive skinned perfectly toned muscles and six pack glistening whilst he ran both hands through his ridiculously perfect “mane”. Lesson: ‘I’m definitely not the Greek God I claimed or falsely led readers of this blog to believe’. Lesson: ‘I can now confirm that I’m not gay’. I’ve often wondered, but there wasn’t any desire to spend the rest of my life or even twenty minutes with him. I’m certain that most women would have fainted at the sight. Anyway, they knock on doors and take just a carrier bag of rubbish from the residents, that’s what I call service. Those on higher levels simply lower it down on a rope. Meanwhile, if I turn my camera to the right the gondoliers are beginning their day. I have to say breakfast was really enjoyable from a photographers perspective.
Those gondolas are everywhere, understandably the gondoliers are like a magnet to photographers. You just can’t help taking a photo each time you see one, which believe me is a lot and I may have got addicted. I didn’t take a trip in a gondola, I read that they cost around £40k to buy and guessed that it would almost be that much for a ride. Clearly if I was there with a romantic interest then we’d have been cruising around all over Venice, money seems to take on a different value when I’m with a woman. The gondolier would be deathly silent, they don’t sing, me sat there with a pained expression worrying about how much I’d spent and the love interest glued to her iPhone or constantly taking selfies. Well, that’s what I witnessed watching the majority of “lovers” drifting around the canals. Who said romance was dead? Not me. Lesson: ‘I smiled each time I saw a happy couple, I watched another couple in their eighties dance at a bar and cried. I realised that I still love love’.
I really enjoyed the 24 hours in Venice spent on my own. Admittedly I do get on my nerves sometimes, but ultimately I’m very comfortable with my own company. I’m an independent person, the absolute anthesis of needy. Wandering those narrow streets, stopping for a beer, watching the world go by, perfect. On my first morning I walked up to the Piazza San Marco, by the way, not that impressed. It’s just a larger version of the Bath Abbey area. I went because it seemed that I should visit and may be interested in the Basilica and Doges Palace. As we often discover the world is far too easily accessible nowadays. There were long lines, an hour or so waiting time and that seemed to be for those that had already pre-booked, this at 10:30am. Quickly realising that I may not be quite so interested as first thought I moved on. Besides, Venice has more Basilicas or churches than days in a year and if you want to see a fresco ceiling just walk into a local mini market.
Walking out of the Piazza I was confronted by far better. Gondola Central and a view over to the Island of San Giorgio Maggiore. I found a park, the Royal Park. I just read some reviews and I think people totally missed the point believing it to be instagram worthy. It’s just a small park, albeit beautifully laid out, peaceful and most importantly has benches to sit for a while to rest those aching feet. You might remember me waxing lyrical about Byant Park in New York a couple of blogs ago. Well this is an oasis of sorts too, though no bar and so only receives four stars from the ‘John Harper Parks of the World Guide’. Lesson: ‘Didn’t realise how much I like parks. Don’t buy that guide, there’s only two entries’.
In the end I found somewhere for lunch and sat there for almost two hours. That tells you how relaxed I felt, often when you’re with others everything is so rushed. Nothing is savoured. I observed and enjoyed every second. About a mile away was the Guggenheim Museum. That was somewhere I could get into, without any queuing, it was surprisingly quiet. Littered with work from Pablo Picasso. Interesting that he painted a portrait of his wife, totally traditional and a standard painting, she looked really nice. Man! Once he got into cubism and developed modern art, he painted her again ten years later. Let’s just say it wasn’t very flattering, what with penises growing out of her head and so forth. Either it was his art developing or he grew to detest her, hard to tell. Also difficult to get my head around the Jackson Pollock work on display. I stood looking at one, there was a couple next to me, he turned to his wife and said “Simply exquisite”. Really? It was that that kind of crowd, if you can call three people a crowd which you can if you’re the third wheel. I didn’t get it, then again I take photos of rubbish collectors, mini markets or copious amounts of men in striped shirts and their poles.
Time for a shower. In the evening a couple of beers sat by the canal at my hotel, then I walked back up to Piazza San Marco, mainly to see the sun setting and get a shot. You need to be up there in the morning if that’s your plan, I couldn’t see one worth taking. I took a slow stroll back towards the hotel and found a restaurant in a very small square. This is where I began hitting the Valpolicella and potentially on the waitress. She liked to explain to everyone the menu and her recommendations, I had already listened to her sales spiel from my table as prospective customers stood by the display menu deciding whether they might give the restaurant a go. She was talking nonsense, she knew it and so did I. I’m perfectly capable of reading a menu without your input I told her. Of course then she wouldn’t leave me alone and we were in hysterics as I dismissed every suggestion, including the other customers. She couldn’t stop giggling or keep a straight face each time a new potential wandered up. I corrected her Italian pronunciation of Grazie at one stage. She told me in impeccable English “I’m bloody Italian, don’t tell me how to pronounce Grazie”. “Prego” I replied. She also threatened to set me up with one of the customers “and if not, I’m going home for my killer heels darling”. Not sure if I was going to get a different kind of Italian lesson or should have considered wearing a Stab Vest. I turned my attention (whether they wanted it or not) to a couple of Canadian ladies at the next table, we had a laugh about it all, discussed my affection for Canada and how Niagara Falls is much better on the Canadian side than the American. In fact Canada was far better than the U.S., don’t tell them I whispered. “We heard” said the American couple at the table behind me, I hadn’t noticed them. It was all very good humoured, we began chatting. After a while they told me about their daughter who was a military psychiatrist and travelled all over the world. As they left adding “We wish she was here, she’d have loved profiling you”. That was the point where I decided not to order yet another glass of wine, say “ciao” and head back to my hotel. It was great evening. Lesson: ‘When you’re in another country don’t try to teach native speakers their own language, they find it annoying, though it might have “benefits”.’
I drank a lot of coffee in the morning, pondered at some length what attracted me to certain women to no conclusion and generally wandered around beautiful Venice. That afternoon I was meeting my Australian friends, Ashley Sowter and Sharon Aldrick. Something I was hugely looking forward to. When I say friends of course they were virtual ones. I’d known Ash for at least ten years through social media and photography. Sharon not so long, but again through photography. I think you get a pretty good idea about someone after years of connection, you learn about them and 99% certain they’re not going be an axe murderer. I’ve met a few people in the same way and it’s always been an absolute pleasure. They include my very good French friend Jeff Chane-Mouye-Mouye, an unbelievably and annoyingly talented photographer, along with the equally talented and sincerely such a nice guy, he’s Canadian they all are, Kevin Haggith.
If you think it looks busy on the canals try walking through the narrow streets. Lord knows what it’s like in the summer. Anyway, I walked up to meet them. Actually this a good time for a Lesson: ‘Spend some time on your own’. Do something out of your normal routine. Be self reliant. Ditch the phone, you’ll be amazed how clear things become once you allow your mind to become slightly bored and begins thinking for itself again. You become more creative and a few of those demons get their marching orders. As we all know, distraction is just avoidance behaviour, for the most part it’s existential anxiety or a way to forget someone. I digress, of course I do, when don’t I. Here’s Ash…
and here’s Sharon aka Shaz…
They were fantastic. I enjoyed their company hugely. We met at Piazza San Marco and naturally the first thing we all wanted was a drink. They were late by the way, that suits me perfectly, I’m already liking someone who’s not obsessed with punctuality. Sharon and I did want/need a drink, Ash had decided to go alcohol free recently. St Mark’s is surrounded by restaurants/bars. Most have a band playing and it’s all very nice. I can’t remember who suggested a drink in one, though I do recall thinking that we were very unlikely to be drinking in one of these tourist cash cows. We chose a restaurant, sat down and looked at the drinks menu. Sharon said that there was no way she was paying $1.6 million Australian for a gin and tonic. I think they were around twenty euros. Either way I liked her already, that cemented it. I suppose we could have afforded to sit there all night had we chosen to, we didn’t. I suggested a couple of blocks/streets/canals/bridges we’d find somewhere equally as nice and at relatively normal prices.
There was only bad news in the Quadra Gazette (see above), in any case I was sure to end up in the Financial Obituary column. We did find somewhere far better and didn’t bankrupt ourselves. Next to dinner. Sharon thought she’d booked somewhere, it turned out to be the following evening and so we adapted. This is what I like, taking things as they come. For some reason I seem to be happier when there are no plans. Just to stay with the theme, one which I wish I hadn’t started if I’m being perfectly honest, that was another Lesson. At a certain point, one in which Sharon had begun smoking my cigarettes she decided that Ash and I should be left to our own devices and she’d head back. From memory she disappeared, said goodnight at least three times before reappearing five minutes later. Google maps was evidently having a problem, I couldn’t possibly suggest that it was Gin, Ash decided that she’d have one heel shorter than the other, all the going around in circles.
We met up in the morning for breakfast and coffee. We discussed photography. Sharon is an established photographer, exhibitions, documentary work along with her own unique artistic vision regarding portraiture. Ash is interested in all aspects of photography. I wish I’d been able to advise or offer something towards his fascination with Street Photography. He is a brilliant and talented landscape photographer and more recently successful with his portraiture. I struggle with landscapes, I appreciate them, everyday when I walk my dogs I soak it in though never with an inclination to photograph it. They’re committed, waking at 5:30 or whatever unearthly hour to get shots and they’re good. I’m so lazy from that aspect. Though in the past I’ve made some reasonably good photographs from rising early and suffering freezing cold temperatures. Lesson: ‘Make the effort. There’s always a photograph waiting’.
Sharon suggested that afternoon we should visit a Paolo Pellegrin exhibition. A Magnum photographer, exhibiting on the Island of San Giorgio Maggiore it would be fantastic. I arrived, so did Ash. Sharon was a no show and had decided to sleep instead, it’s public knowledge that I have that effect on women. We’d be seeing her later at the pre-booked restaurant that was presumed to be the night before. Anyway, I had Ash to myself and have to say he’s a fantastic guy. I felt relaxed in his company from the start. We got a ferry/water bus over to the island. This was a good move because I’d read that the best view of Venice was to found in the bell tower of the islands Basilica. We’ve already had that lesson about not believing reviews, especially it seemed a view review.
Ash rightly pointed out that it was in fact a good view of Venice, just not a particularly a great view when compared with others around the world. We felt a little disappointed. Particularly as we’d paid €9 each to go up there, I briefly thought about asking for my money back. I’m not religious and as it turned out neither was Ash. We railed against that charge to begin with, it was a ‘house of god’ right and therefore should be free. They often promote these fees as a voluntary contribution. I’ve had this argument down in Bath at the Abbey. They charge £6 to enter. I just say that I’m either not prepared to pay or one time that I just wanted to pray. And I did, I thanked “god” for saving me £6. I walked out and gave it to a busker who was bringing far more joy to the world. I will add here that I’d defend to death the right for anyone to believe in whatever they want to. Anyway, Ash briefly became my muse.
We found a nearby cafe. I knocked back a couple of beers and Ash whatever zero alcohol drink that pretended to be beer they had. We chatted about all sorts. We covered just about everything, from politicians to ex-wives. Actually they’re pretty similar now I thing about it. You know sometimes in life you have those moments, where you’re totally relaxed and everything is great. Anyway, I proposed, he refused, but helped me up from my bended knee proposal position. We went next door to the exhibition. Okay, Pelligrin is a great photographer, but one of the photos was a blurry shot of some seagulls. We both agreed that we had thousands just like it and therefore should hold our own exhibition. I’d call it “Out of Focus Crap” by John Harper. Time was getting on and so we headed for the water bus stop and back to Pizza san Marco, our dinner date was getting close.
Incidentally there are photos of the exhibition, the Guggenheim visit and the water bus trip, but although in focus will be shown in my other forthcoming exhibition simply called “Crap” by John Harper. I took this getting off the bus, it’s one of the better shots.
Back again to one of the previous “lessons”. I’m happier when things aren’t regimented. Ash and I had an hour or so to kill before Sharon would arrive for the restaurant at 7:30pm. Some would go back for a nap and a shower, get spruced up. According to Sharon this was one of the top ten restaurants (possibly in the world, I can’t remember) according to Time Out or some such magazine. We sat, chatted and drank some more instead, essentially played it by ear. One of us consuming alcohol.
The restaurant was popular, again let’s say with a certain crowd, possibly the kind that thought throwing paint on to a canvas and rolling around in it was “exquisite”. The food was good, the service okay, the conversation for me was fascinating. I asked about the Outback. Ash admitted that he’d been to Uluru (Ayers Rock) and that was about it. Sharon on the other hand had been many times, documenting aboriginal settlements and teaching. She painted a vivid picture with her words of the Outback, the emptiness and searing red of the earth. Seriously, I could almost feel the heat and taste the dust (it wasn’t the food). They may have a different memory of this than me, I was captivated. Lesson: ‘Listen to others, it’s fascinating. You don’t know what they’re going to say whereas you already know everything you’re going to’. I did point out that it wasn’t all empty. There were those mining towns, with their hotels/bars? Ash said there were and frequented by a certain clientele, if he walked in and ordered an alcohol free beer he doubted he’d have any teeth left. We all laughed, but it stopped quickly when the waiter brought the bill.
Let’s wrap it up now. I’m off to Vegas in a couple of days with my friend Kev, there will be a blog on that. Now I think about it I’ve been to Venice sort of twice, the other was the Vegas Disney version on the Strip, “The Venetian”. I lost money in there for no reason and wasn’t overly impressed. The real Venice was way better and worth every penny. If you haven’t been then if you can you should go. I can even recommend a travel agent, namely Nick at Adsett Travel who arranged this trip for me. It’s a long time since I’ve used an agent, we all sort it out online nowadays. Nick offered me a tailored service and one that not only suited my specifications perfectly, but also saved me the tedious job of researching it all and reading/believing the reviews.
It might appear that I’m becoming one of those vacuous “bon viveur” types. I promise that I’m not, though arguably I could be described as vacuous at times. Reminds me of that Barbara Streisand song from Funny Lady and the wonderfully ironic “How Lucky Can You Get” (still not gay, it’s Sunday afternoon and just remembering as a child I would sit and watch films with my mum), …”every night’s a party where the fun never ends, you can circle the globe with my circle of friends”. Of course in reality for her it isn’t. I’ll leave you with a few more shots from Venice that are more from a Street Photography perspective. I liked the colour match in the third one. Until next time keep safe and be nice.
All images can be opened by clicking on the thumbnails and are made using a Leica M with Summicron 28mm Lens fitted.
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