Ciao, ragazzi, from an internet cafe in Campo San Stefano (pronounced STEF-a-no, and not Ste-FAN-o, as this correspondant just learned).
Venice is more spectacular than I remembered, although my view of it has no doubt been enhaced by the extreme amount of reading and research carried out prior to this trip, and my impressions, every one, are being recorded in a little orange Claire Fontaine notebook specifically labelled "Venice September 2006." My everyday Moleskine is on congé. Why such attentiveness on this trip? For that matter, why this trip at all? I'll leave you to puzzle that over, until the day when I receive such good news that the whole cloak and dagger routine is no longer necessary.
Soon after I got into town yesterday, I went to Santa Maria della Salute, where, following Philippe Sollers, I was planning to light a candle to guide the hand that writes (or the fingers that type). I made it as far as the nave when a clean-shaven young Venetian approached me and shook his head disapprovingly.
"Troppo corto," he said, gesturing at my denim mini-skirt. I had had the presence of mind to wear a cardigan over my tanktop (it is molto caldo in Venice right now), but hadn't given a second thought to the skirt. It would seem, dear friends, that the display of legs is unholy. Maybe my legs glow harlot red to him, maybe this pious young man could tell that the night before, they were wrapped around my boyfriend's waist.
I was a little surprised at the enforcement of this particular rule, as I was surrounded by tank-top wearing tourists in the church, but I didn't feel too resentful once I applied the Kantian imperative to the situation. I mean, if all women wore short skirts to church, when they knelt they'd be putting on a more interesting exhibit than the transformation of the host, and would no doubt distract the choir from their singing.
"Can I just light a candle and then I'll go?" I pleaded. He frowned, but nodded, grudgingly. Sin is permitted to light a candle, as long as it drops a euro for the privilege.
To the hand that writes, and the heart that loves, I thought as I lit my tea candle, and then I got the you-know-what out of there. And today, my white pleated skirt covers my knees.
But the sins this skirt has seen...
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About Me
- maitresse
- Lauren Elkin is a PhD candidate in English literature at the Université de Paris VII and the Graduate Center, City University of New York. Originally from New York, she has lived in Paris on and off since 1999 and continuously since 2004. She is a member of the National Book Critics Circle, and her work has appeared in Gridskipper, the Huffington Post, Nextbook, The Forward, Parisist, the Jewish Telegraphic Agency, and the Paris Voice. She is the author of the novel IN DORSODURO, which is currently under representation by Diana Finch, and is at work on novel number two, set in present-day Paris.
7 comments:
The jealousy, I am feeling it. I might have de la chance and be in Verona for Toussaint, but until then I'll have to content myself with my rentree on Tuesday, the return of le copain after 4 long months on Wednesday and the fact that I've almost finished all of the boring administrative errands I have. But still, you're in Italy, I'm jealous.
I'm interested in getting your impressions of Venice. I've always loved it, especially getting lost.
Unfortunately, the last time I visited I felt as though the city was a corpse being propped up and shaken for tourist dollars.
You must have been giving off such an aura that there was a direct call from the Vatican warning the church about you.
"For that matter, why this trip at all? I'll leave you to puzzle that over, until the day when I receive such good news that the whole cloak and dagger routine is no longer necessary."
The cloak and dagger routine, huh? Can I hazard a guess (in Spanish?) and say that "Usted se va a estar prometida con Nicolas?"
Hey, I know that internet cafe! I go to Venice a lot. The keyboards are always really dirty in that one.... I like to eat ice cream at the cafe across from it, after visiting the Accademia.
I was raised by ardent Catholics who were good people, and it's important to realize that they do still exist (and many young Venetians are quite religious under the urbanity; and even the secular ones all revere their churches for cultural reasons) and are not all weirdos and nut cases. They just feel that church is a place for reverence and respect, and that revealing clothes, loud chatter, camera flashes, tour groups, etc. are not respectful. If you feel reverent about any place, you may understand their point of view. I still don't think it was nice for the man to say anything to you individually, though. Any church in Venice is thronged by tourists and sees a lot worse than a pretty woman in a mini-skirt.
My favorite excursion in Venice is to Torcello. The mosaic of the Last Judgment there is amazing. We also always sit on "Attila's throne." I hope you have a wonderful time in Venice and that things go the way you hope.
Ah, me oh my. No, the trip has nothing to do with Nicolas. And he doesn't understand Spanish but, fashionista, if he read your comment I think he'd choke on his spritz. He's in Paris for the moment and will meet me in Napoli on Saturday.
Matt, what a great way of putting it. I'm still soaking it all in; this is my third or fourth time in Venice and so it's not a fresh perspective, but I am purposefully here to see the Venice of Venetians. Difficult but not impossible.
Sedulia, I didn't mean to sound disrespectful of the rules (I did go wearing a cardigan after all) and I had similar feelings of impatience in the synagogue. I was raised by and with decent Catholics (my mother, sister, cousins).
But I do have a problem with the concept of "reverence" and what kind of behavior is considered reverential and which is not. If I'm there in a long skirt and sleeves but am there only because it's in the guidebook, is that any more respectful than if I'm there to pray or admire the architecture? If I am educated enough to give a lecture on Bellini's portraits of Madonna con bambino, does it matter if I'm wearing a miniskirt or a burqua?
I am looking forward to going to Torcello though! Wearing suitably respectful clothing, of course.
Ha! the skirt thing happened to me at The Vatican except the swiss guards or whatever they're called sleazily made my friend and I twirl round so they could measure just exactly how too short our skirts were (just above the knee). Mine was deemed just long enough and when I went inside, the church was full of tourists sitting on the floor having picnics, shouting and weilding camcorders. Surely just as disrespectful as getting yer legs out?!
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