The city of Venice

This city is one of the most iconic places on our planet. For many reasons, not least because, in relation to it, all people on Earth are divided into two types.

For the "first generation," Venice is a magnet. Once they've been here, they want to return for the rest of their lives. If they can, they always return, and some even become regular visitors. Those who can afford it even buy a place to live here. It's not necessarily a permanent residence, but a place to stay upon arrival.

These "firsts" happily communicate with each other, form groups, and share their joy in discovering this fabulous city. They truly enjoy giving a greenhorn (one of them, of course!) a tour of Venice for the first time or answering questions from these "greenhorns" online.

The second type includes everyone else. For them, Venice is nothing more than a small, amusing, oddball city, easily explored and understood in a day, or two at most, where it can be extremely hot, sanitary standards are questionable, there are fogs and floods in the winter , and a foul smell in the summer. "This city needs to be immediately closed for repairs and reconstruction; in its current state, it's dangerous; tourists shouldn't be allowed there," is what the "second type" often write after visiting Venice. God be their judge!

The second type treats the first with bewilderment and mistrust, while the first treats the second with pity, irony, and mild contempt. It's like people with perfect pitch treat those who have "an elephant on their ear." Arguments between them are futile and inappropriate. The only reasonable option is to peacefully separate and not interfere with each other's lives. It's difficult to say which of these types predominates; I suspect the second. But even these second types consider it their duty to visit Venice at least once, since it's such an iconic place. And these unfortunates don't realize they are the second type until they visit Venice in person and understand their relationship with it. This is the paradox, and the reason for the huge crowds of tourists that prevent the "first" types from enjoying their beloved city.

Walking tours of Venice

Walking through Venice is a unique experience. This city is better suited to travel by water than by land. Its water "streets" (that is, canals) tend to "stay straight" for much longer. This is obvious on a map. The natural thought that immediately comes to mind is: why not walk along the embankments of these canals, since they are so conveniently located? But no such luck: the canals almost never have full embankments, only isolated fragments. Each fragment ends, and you must turn onto a small street, which soon leads to another canal. The angles of these forced turns are not necessarily right angles; they can be anything. Clearly, even those with excellent orientation have virtually no chance of not getting lost in Venice. The situation is exacerbated by the fantastic curvature of the wide (main) Grand Canal, which traces a huge S-shape, also lacking a continuous embankment, only isolated small sections. After all, a tourist's "inner gyroscope" naturally tries to take the Grand Canal as its primary landmark, not expecting it to treacherously change direction twice by as much as 180 degrees. In short, if a labyrinthine city were to be purposefully built, it would look very much like Venice. And this is another important element of the city's romance.
Venice is fractal. If you take a small piece of Venice and enlarge it, you get Venice. Okay, don't worry—it's almost Venice.

Getting lost in Venice

But getting lost here is not at all a problem. The city is not very large, and you'll soon find yourself at a familiar landmark: a large embankment or square, a church, a bridge, or a vaporetto stop . Venice's size is ideal for strolling. This is another important feature of the city. You can always leisurely walk from one end to the other in no more than an hour or an hour and a half. But there are so many different ways to take these routes! A lifetime wouldn't be enough to try them all, and a memory wouldn't be enough to remember them all!

There are many ways to wander Venice. You can simply wander wherever your eyes take you, noticing interesting and beautiful sights along the way. You can also try to follow the paths of the great and famous, for example, following the paths of Brodsky, Casanova, or Marco Polo . You can also try following a map, reading recommendations for attractions from a guidebook. Each option has its advantages, so choose according to your taste. A good result (in terms of enjoyment, of course!) can be achieved by alternating between various methods.

Venice as a fish

Looking at a map, you'll immediately see that Venice looks a lot like a fish. A large fish on a small plate. The fish's digestive tract is the Grand Canal . The other streets and canals form the skeleton and blood vessels. It looks strange and symbolic. A fish-city, lost in the dead end of the Adriatic, hidden under the buttock of a foot clad in an "Italian boot."

The inhabitants of the empire sought refuge from the barbarians on the islands of the lagoon. This is how this settlement arose, and how this unique culture of the relationship between man and water emerged. People had no other chance to survive—only to adapt to the sea. A living sea, with storms, tides, and floods. And they not only learned to build houses on stilts and survived, but also created a powerful democratic state that maintained its independence for nearly fifteen hundred years. Yes, Venice is not a monarchy, and the Doge is not a king. Few things were feared in Venice as much as the cult of personality. They didn't even erect monuments to anyone , and Doges were elected and, in essence, deprived of personal freedom for the good of the republic.

Life in Venice and the Romance of the Water

Living among water changes our understanding of beauty. On dry land, peeling walls, half-rotted logs, mud-covered steps, and long, dark tunnel-like passages in houses seem ugly. But surrounded by water, all this becomes harmonious and surprisingly beautiful. So, for some reason, in Italy, everything natural and uncontrived becomes beautiful. Even the Ponte Vecchio in Florence, any dry description of which inevitably conjures up a wretched, ugly picture of a bridge. And yet, despite all the meticulous descriptions, despite all the hypotheses about the connection between beauty and symmetry, it is devilishly beautiful!

For some time now, I think I've figured out how to predict someone's attitude toward Venice a priori, before visiting. Were you drawn to forest streams as a child? The water murmuring through the forest thicket, turning unpredictably, unexpectedly dammed by logs, concealing unknown fish and other mysterious aquatic life? It's all about the water, its own romanticism. That's why Brodsky (who visited Venice every winter for many years) said, "In this city, I'm not a tourist, I'm a mollusk." This site is for those who appreciate the romance and allure of water. The rest can leave peacefully, comforted by the thought that those who remain will feel sorry for them.

And, by God, there is a reason for it!