Yesterday - Sunday - I walked the streets of Venice's ghetto, way on the edge of Canareggio, and I thought about what it takes in the human mind to actually conceive of such an idea as "ghetto.". This ghetto has existed since the 1300's -- it is the oldest of all ghettos in the world, I believe. Today the Jewish population there isn't huge (in the low hundreds), and the place has this extraordinarily peaceful feel to it. This is not a primary tourist destination, after all, unless you are Jewish of course, and so you walk amongst the ebb and flow of Venetian daily life here, and sense the remoteness of this environment. Clean and sparse and safe feeling. From what I have read, it was not a horrific place for the Jews through much of its history, but instead a place where they might feel safe from the racism that pervaded European consciousness. There they were able to live normal lives as Jewish people in fact. And, it was that arch egomaniac Napoleon who opened up the gates, so to speak, and put an end finally to enforced ghetto existence! Where I'm going with this, I can't say for sure ... it is just such a strange experience to travel into what feels like a time warp, to sense that you have gone back in time, and the air that you breathe, the energy of the place that you feel is simply of a much older time...... There was a slightly off kilter feeling that I experienced, not being Jewish, as I walked through the Jewish museum and looked at all the ritualistic objects and documents; I had a distinct sense of being "other:" I wanted to know more but didn't seem to be able to ask for help or information. I was walking anonymously through the space, just witnessing what was before me and trying to fathom the enormity of the Jewish suffering. There was a huge festival going on in the main square that quiet Sunday, a thoroughly communal celebration, about what I never figured out, but I stood on the periphery and watched the joyousness and exhuberance that was present: dancing, singing, flute playing, more singing, eating, hugging, the raising of a grand silver standard held under a cloth canopy, more leaping for joy, and so on.... And over in one quieter part of the square a little girl with blue sequined sneakers was learning how to skateboard with her father. She was celebrating herself, in fact, and liked that I took her picture. I think I may return here, to take another look. There is TOO much that feels unknown to me, and that makes me feel unsatisfied.
Since then I have been to an operatic performance in a nearby palazzo complete with candlelight and an elegant quartet, have gazed up at the shimmering mysterious gold mosaics of San Marco, and then wandered off in search of a theme for my day. Turned out it was about churches. Stopped at San Zacaria, and then Santa Maria Formosa and bought a "pass" to visit some dozen other Venetian churches, and so decided I would weave that into my wanderings for the rest of my time here. Saw just two today, complete with dingy old paintings and the occasional stunning Byzantine icon... At Santa Maria della Formosa, I had the gift of hearing a lovely soprano voice singing some exquisite liturgical music accompanied by an organ. I had to sit down immediately on one of the hard benches and just BE, just be grateful for the refuge being offered!
So, you see there is so much, sometimes I feel too much, to take in. Part of me wants to throw myself on my bed in my hotel room and take an afternoon rest from the sensory overload. It is bitter cold outside, after all! Another part of me wants to keep going, with an occasional stop in a bar/cafe for a hot drink and a pause in this day's experience. One can really just keep on going, you know, even without a particular plan. That's the quirky part of Venice... this wandering through a remote landscape NOT KNOWING, and it being o.k. More will be revealed no doubt to those who are reading.
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