I travel to settle down the pandemonium’s of life raging inside me. These new places, the new people, new tastes greeting my tongue; they intrigue me to a whole new level. I am indeed fascinated and moved by this therapy. And obviously, I am so indefinitely attached to traveling that my heart does not stop hammering against my chest until I put down my story on a piece of paper. So here I have an unprecedented experience of mine in the city which has a strong affinity for intricate romance–Venice.
The beauty of Venice mainly lies in its exiguity. The overweening rows of boats brightly splashed with colours bobbing gently on the lulled waters tug a grin on my face. The cobblestoned streets and three-storied buildings dipped in the lightest shade of ochre, push its spectators back into the flourishing and forward period of Renaissance.
Rediscovering hidden stories is another pursuit for pleasure– a personal favorite, might I add. With the convoluted history of Italia, what could be better than touring the essence of this place, the Renaissance?
Flip the pages of the records of people whose will to change the perspective of art was ablaze, and its heat was tangible enough for the entire Europe to smell during the era of the Renaissance. Pay a visit to the museum of the famous Leonardo Da Vinci, from whose mind had generated absolutely ingenious models of flying machines, whose deft hands gave us the well-known face–the veiled countenance of Mona Lisa. Her ethereal features and sweet smile has won kudos from great artists of today and will continue to do so henceforth.
Birds fly in different directions!
On one pleasant morning, when our day became lazier and hungrier, we set off for St. Marks Square, also known as the Piazza San Marco. The place was exhilarating and a perfect delight for kids and all the bird lovers of this world. The friendliest pigeons in the world flock to this place. These are no ordinary pigeons, let me remind you. Stretch out your arm in front of you. Wait for a moment or two and behold the fascinating sight of a beautiful pigeon landing while digging its little claws in your skin. Don’t wince, for it might intimidate the little bird. If you think pigeons aren’t very fond of you, stretch your arm again, but this time, put some food crumbles on your arm. The light pecks you feel on your skin are very enjoyable – and indeed if they do not come to you, don’t be jealous. You just weren’t the pigeons’ type!
City of glass
Murano is highly peremptory, but a tiny part of Italy. It is the womb of, probably, the best glass structures on the entire planet. The beauty of glass and colours are well comprehended by even the most placid of demeanors. Their beauty opens the artist’s eye in every human. The art of casting glass into ingenious and intricate charm seems to be pure legerdemain sometimes.
We watched raptly as an old man with white hair assiduously took out a brightly glowing ball of molten glass from the blazing furnace onto a long pipe. He had command over the orb. It was hypnotized in his hands, moving the way he wanted. He blew into the pipe and the orb swelled up. He blew into it again and all of a sudden the orb was splashed with a bright, swirling crimson. In a few minutes, a bonny glass vase sat before us.
An even more impressive and laudable display was on the streets of Murano. It left all its spectators speechless. Glass can be molded into almost anything– from huge balls and tremendous structures with tentacles to teeny-tiny cats no bigger than the size of a baby’s finger. We satisfied our frissons that had bubbled up in all the glass watching by buying a family of blue cats. Today, they sit in my collection from around the world; a perfect reminiscent of terrific artists who befriended a substance whose man-made curves are known better by its sharpness–glass.
City of many colours
After spending the first half of the day with glass and its wonders, it was time for us to treat our eyes with something a bit more soft and enthralling. Our next destination was a half an hour boat ride from Murano. As we bid goodbye to the sharp edges of glass, what came next was something soft, restful and a sight for sore eyes.
Burano is a freshly-bought unused colour palette. At first sight, one might think the city to be a victim of the outrage of goddess Iris, who hurled all the pretty colours of her rainbow at the city.
Petit three-storied buildings were neatly lined in a row and coloured with the loveliest shades of green, yellow, red, blue and other pretty tones. Well-trimmed potted plants bedecked the balconies; I almost envisaged lovely women from the 80s waving at us, their laughter soft like tinkling bells. The boats there jibe beautifully. They were splashed with the same style of colours.
The streets were lively as ever. Open restaurants and cafes were found every now and then. Fish is somewhat a specialty of Venice and is relished by all Venetians. And fresh fish is flown out of Venice daily, reaching the neighbouring countries. Locals here will give you a beautiful description of the taste of fish. They sympathize with all vegetarians on earth as they do not have the pleasure to eat fish. If you have a fable for seafood, this is the kind of place that serves quality with love.
Venice is purely quintessential. If you think it’s just another cliché, well, there’s only one way to find out and break this stereotype!