I found a back way to St. Mark's square, but, in spite of circumventing a portion of the mob, I was not entirely surprised to find that the line to enter the church was already reminiscent of Comic-Con. So I'm sitting inside and writing random thoughts again, this time at the Caffe Florian. In spite of being an historical landmark in its own right, it is, to my relief, much less crowded than the outdoors at this place and time. For a few golden minutes, I had an entire room to myself.Dating to 1720, the Florian is relatively new in Venice, but is still full of wonder and beauty for me because of both its story and its style. Luckily, the founder was progressive enough to allow women inside. The drinking chocolate with mint was impossible to resist, though it gave me a chuckle to see that they named it for Casanova. Gullible tourist that I am, I paused to wonder for a moment if this was really how he took it.
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Another 2 hours, another restaurant, this time with a plate of gnocchi and cheese. This is probably a kids' dish that everyone's laughing at me about because it's so plain, but I own having the palate of a kindergartner, and I'm savoring every bite. I've still used very little Italian, because I remain uncertain about it and have enough trouble deciding what to say to strangers in my native tongue as it is.
I finally found a moment when the line for St. Mark's was thin, and went inside, completely unprepared for what I was about to experience. It is sacred, yes, but at least as much a monument to the potential of man. Sadly, no photos are allowed(though I admit sneaking a quick one of the central dome for my mother, who may never get to see it and would appreciate it more than most of the visitors inside. More on that later.), but it is breathtaking. The beauty lies not in the gold sheen of the ceilings, but all of the fine, painstaking work on the numerous paintings, statues, mosaic floors, reliefs, metal hanging lanterns, columns and woodwork, each little piece crafted lovingly by one of who knows how many artists and tradespeople over the course of hundreds of years. All done by hand, each a personal contribution to the designer's grand overall vision. That alone, even without mention of the religious significance, should be enough to inspire the silence that is requested in the sanctuary.
It would seem, though, that, for most visitors, the wonders inside are not enough to inspire any reverence of any kind. I felt justified, though slightly guilty, about capturing a single image to send home, because people all around me were not only taking selfies and photos at multiple angles, but were actually taking videos inside. They were also jabbering on and on and laughing like fools, creating a dull roar throughout the building. A whole row of seats in the area designated for prayer were occupied by a group of girls playing with their phones. All of these things are specifically forbidden, and signs all over the church, inside and out, make this clear in multiple languages and through very plain pictographs as well. Even tour guides aren't supposed to talk, and they set a bad example from the first by doing it anyway. It's not so much that these actions are sins in general--everyone ought to laugh as much as possible, certainly--but, in this specific situation, they definitely detract from the experience for people who are actually there for inspiration. A single attempt was made by the staff to shush the crowd over the loudspeaker, but the affects were only partial and transient. No one appears to care, no one steps aside and stops to take it in or understand. They just seem to shuffle through, take a few unsanctioned pictures so they can check it off a list, and go get a gelato. It's just another old building. Maybe I'm wrong, because I can't read their minds, of course, but I saw no hint of recognition in any face as I looked around. Many of the visitors were school kids who very obviously didn't want to be there anyway. My suggestion to tour guides and teachers alike is this: Don't require anyone to visit a sacred space of any type, whether it's a temple, cathedral, mosque or witches' circle. If they really know what they're looking for and/or want to go, let them. If they don't want to be there, let them run along to the souvenir shops and pick them up later. The worshippers and the bored selfie-collectors are likely to be equally relieved by this arrangement.
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My walk around the city was about half as long as it would need to be to burn off what I've eaten today, but was refreshing nonetheless. My only defense is that, on the island of Venice, you pretty much have to buy something at a restaurant any time you want to sit down or use a clean toilet that has a seat. Benches are around here and there, but the city is so crowded that the chances of finding one free are almost nil, and plenty of folks need them more than I do. I've enjoyed my time here, and it was completely worth the effort, but a visit about 2 hours shorter would have been ideal. I wish I could be more tolerant of large groups of humans. Most places worth visiting will usually be full of people. They're fascinating, and watching from a distance can be a pleasurable pastime, but moving among the masses induces anxiety, claustrophobia, and even paranoia in me. They all seem excited to be together and be part of the goings-on, and I've probably spent 50 € today in restaurants and cafes, with the primary goal of buying a few hours of separateness. I have to confess (Bless me Father, for I have sinned...), it was worth every cent.
