In his famous essay about the Balinese cockfight, “Deep
Play,” Geertz commences with the observation that “everyone ignored us in a way
only a Balinese can do.” The exact opposite can be said about the Venetian waiter,
vender, and bartender. Of course, it helps if you attempt to order in Italian.
Your attempt can be using the single Italian phrase you learned that morning
(prendo…), adapting what you already know into Italian (if you know Spanish go
ahead and give that Spanitalian a shot), or even bits and pieces of French
mixed with body gestures will do. In general, switch to English only as a last
resort, and it’s more fun to put a foreign accent on that American dialect.
However, even with English, waiters, venders, and bartenders
love to engage in small talk and entertain tourists:
THE WAITER
On my last night in Venice I went out with a group of four friends
to Ostaria Ae Botti for dinner. We were seated in the back room of the
restaurant next to a giant space heater. The waiter comes by after a few
minutes and we ask him if it’s okay to order some drinks. After the drinks come
back, we order our dishes: two plates of lobster, lasagna, pasta with mixed
seafood, and the plate of the day (linguini with white clam sauce). The waiter
soon comes back with lobster bibs for two of the girls, and he installs them on
their necks as we sit in silence eating bread. Later on in the evening, our
waiter will offer to turn on some music, comment that I am a lucky man with
four young ladies at my table, and eventually grant me the exclusive pleasure
of paying the check for my table, all in good fun. I really appreciate that he
engaged with us and wanted us have a fun time at his restaurant.
THE GELATO VENDERS
Also on my last night in the city, my four friends and I
went on a gelato hunt before returning to our residence on San Servolo. We came
across an average looking gelato shop, and the vender smiled at us as we stared
at his product, pondering if we should hold out for something better or just
order a flavor from his limited selection. We spotted another gelato shop right
across the alleyway and walked in, thinking we’d glance over the flavors to
find our favorite. The vender of this other shop was standing outside his shop
talking with some other Venetians, so once he saw us enter his shop, he quickly
threw down his cigarette and got behind the counter. We told our first vender
we were sorry because we decided to buy from his friend across the way instead.
He encouraged us to have another look at his selection with a smile on his face,
but we walked away anyway. Next thing we know, the first vender comes behind
the counter of the other shop and pretends he’s the owner of the gelato, all
still with a smile on his face. We all laugh as it is now apparent that these
two vendors are, although competitors, friends at heart. The true owner of the
shop with the greater selection goes on to discuss his gelato with us,
explaining that he made all of it himself, offering us to taste any flavor we
want, and showing us the giant Nutella jar he uses to make his Nutella gelato.
These two vendors were clearly more interested in entertaining us then actually
making a sale. It was neat to see that competition didn’t get in the way of
friendship for these two Venetians.
THE BARTENDER
Venetian bartenders tended to be the friendliest of venders
I encountered. One such bartender sensed my friend’s indecision when ordering his
first Spritz, and decided to tease him. Lesson learned: if you are a guy and
you want to order a Spritz, which is a must try in Venice, be sure to ask for Spritz
con Select (the red one). If you decide to order the one with Aperol (the
orange one), you may be the subject of a good laugh. Aperol Spritz is what young
ladies drink.
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