Venice Imagined

“What we find exotic abroad may be what we hunger for in vain at home.” – Alain de Botton, The Art of Travel

I find this statement fascinating because it proposes reason for why we place value in foreign elements or take interest in them during our travels. Previously when abroad, I would not have thought to reflect on my homeland and my satisfaction with what it offers, but now I’m intrigued at the idea of connecting happiness while away with either a conscious or unacknowledged gloominess at home. My upcoming trip to Venice, my expectations of which I will articulate here, will provide me an opportunity to ponder over this concept.

I foresee Venice in a geographical sense being a conglomeration of several of my previous adventures overseas. I imagine the network of canals and bridges to be similar to that of Amsterdam and Zhujiajiao, pictured below. However, I expect the waters permeating Venice to be vibrant, pristine, and anything but the murky, polluted streams commonplace in China. Very little room will separate the edges of the canals from the sides of buildings, giving the disturbing impression that the sea is constantly deteriorating man’s efforts to stay afloat.

Amsterdam

Zhujiajiao, an ancient water town on the outskirts of Shanghai

 
Based off my viewing of Don’t Look Now, I imagine the maze of alleyways to be somewhat frightening after the sun goes down, with minimal lighting and a lack of late-night eateries and shops open in remote sections of the city, if those even exist. Overall, Venice primarily seems like a city that is most energetic during the day while the tourists overshadow the locals.

I anticipate the sounds to be that of enthused Italians, hungry pigeons and seabirds, church bells, and rushed tourists. Silence may be the hardest sound to enjoy in Venice due to the myriad of waves throughout the city gently colliding with walls, curious about life on the elevated land.

I expect the culture of the Venetian people to be comparable to that of Parisians: prideful in their cuisine and language and appreciative of attempts at communicating on their terms and of interest in their culture. Because Venice is known for its tourism, the Venetians will welcome outsiders more openly because they need it to survive. I also foresee a lesser emphasis placed on fashion and a greater emphasis on music and theatre, compared to Paris. String quartets at cafes and solo men playing harmonicas on benches are what I have in mind.

My “word-painting” articulating how I imagine Venice prior to arrival may be overly grandiose. However, Alain de Botton states this phenomenon is nothing unusual: “the anticipatory and artistic imaginations omit and compress; they cut away the periods of boredom and direct out attention to critical moments, and thus, without either lying or embellishing, they lend to life a vividness and a coherence that it may lack in the distracting woolliness of the present.” I hope to appreciate the reality as different from my expectation, and to consciously think about the philosophies on travel discussed by Alain de Botton to make the most of my week in Venice.