November 2005
The best travelling is the spontaneous travelling. The allure of Venice had always been an idyllic dream of beauty, history, and romance for me. We were two rooky 20-year olds, with ten days off from school, travelling on a whim and throwing ourselves into the abyss of unknowing. I must admit, it felt sexy. I yearned to be seduced by Italy’s culture and its famous canal glory, and sought satisfaction that couldn’t be soothed with only one bite. I was far from home and could choose my own direction with spontaneity.
We found ourselves caught up in a web of cobble-stone streets, lined with rising canals. The labyrinth of choices led to who knows where- perhaps a museum, a gondola ride, or a café. We dove in impulsively without a plan. There was a chill in the air, far foreign to my Florida girl blood, but that relished the succinctness of distant land away from home. We moved through the crowded Plaza San Marcos, and to the harbor, catching the sun set, dazzling the water and the misty lined horizon.
Darkness gradually overtook the city and the little streets transformed into dimly lit passageways. Each bridge importuned visions of gondolas navigating the dark waters. One could easily imagine being transported back in time, perhaps to the Golden Age, before electricity, where people moved around these streets and canals with nothing more than torches. We continued following the path that unfolded. A small, empty plaza appeared, and with it just one lit building and a single door visible. What sounded like string instruments loudened in the quiet night. As we neared, the small theater became visible, and we were drawn in as if beckoned by design. The music became more detectable and immediately my friend recognized it as the work of Antonio Vivaldi. We bought tickets and were escorted to the room with the concerto. Intricate, ornate golden styling showed off the Baroque adorned room full of locals, and once again I was transported back in time. We took 2 of the last 3 seats, opening ourselves up to the beautiful gift we’d stumbled upon.
The end of the second Act neared and the symphony prepared for their last number. The Four Seasonsbegan with Spring. The music loudened, peaked, and came at my face like a force of nature. So rich, I closed my eyes and the violins took me away. We all sat there . . . entranced witnessing a glimpse of Golden past. The satisfaction I sought was mine.
The best travelling is the spontaneous kind. Lewis Carroll said, “If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you there.”
No comments:
Post a Comment