nI had a leisurely morning to myself. I went out the Fondamenta Nove in the morning to look at the fog. Caught a boat that took me to where I could access the Ghetto quarter.
History lesson – Venice had the first ghetto for Jews, long before WWII – before the Inquistion. In medieval times the restrictions began. Specifically, Jews were not even allowed to live in the city until 1385, and thereafter only with strict laws and special taxes placed upon them. There were many moneylenders and doctors in practice who were Jewish, and the aristocrats saw their worth in the form of practical application. In 1397, the welcome mat was revoked, under speculation of irregularities in banking practices, and the government limited them to staying for only two-week stretches. In 1509 when the mainland was overrun yet again, the Jewish merchants and bankers sought refuge once again in the city. The Catholic clergy took up complaint with the ruling families and the doge and tried to stir up anti-Jewish sentiment calling for their expulsion, not their protection. Venice’s rulers saw the advantage to keeping them around for practical reasons (read: economical!) and in 1516 the doge made the compromise to corral them into one location, rather than expel them entirely from the city. They were forced into a small area in the northwest corner of the Cannaregio District and kept under lock and key (by two gates) at night. Unless they were a doctor tending to a sick patient, they were not allowed out after sunset, until sunrise. There were however, many musicians who were allowed out at night as well, playing at the parties of the denizens of the city. They were made to wear badges on their clothing to identify them also.
The ghetto is quite small and the cramped inhabitants were forced to build tenements, some 6 stories high, much higher than palazzi in the rest of Venice. By the late 1500s there were almost 5000 people living in the space of 6 blocks. Since Jewish law states that no man can live above a house of worship – they built their synagogues on the top floors. Practical.
So where does the word ghetto come from? The Venetian word for foundry is “geto”, from the verb “gettare”, to forge. The ironworks foundry had been in the location the moved the Jews into, but had recently vacated to new digs on the southeast part of the city at the Arsenale, where the ships were built for Venice’s impressive naval fleet.
History lesson over. So when some young urban fellow tells you that you don’t know anything about the ghetto, drop some knowledge on them, courtesy of Venice.
Errands and mundane tasks with Marco all afternoon. It is incredibly humid here right now, which I am not used to and his insisting on walking me all over town got on my nerves, and my foot. I’m in a cast for Pete’s sake, it doesn't mean we’re okay to lollygag all over creation, idiot. By the time we stopped at a sandwich counter (a place I usually love!), I had reached my limits. There was no air circulation in the place, it was crowded, I was sweatier than all get out, and I had a meltdown. I told him I needed to go outside in the air. “NO no no stay here” he asked. I would be waiting for him outside, but he insisted that I eat something to make me feel better. We had one of those moments where you would have thought we were married if you saw us on the street, but I liken it more to a sibling spat. I sat down on a bench and refused what he handed me and he of course became exasperated with me.
It stems from a cultural difference that we have where people in the US think nothing of sitting down in public, whether eating or not. Italians tend not to lean on anything, because it might get on your clothes. Okay, whatever. It’s not like you have to take it down to the riverbanks and beat it on rocks to get the dust off, pal. Besides that, your mother does your laundry, quit being such a ninny.
He did the next best thing, to get me a bottle of water and some napkins to cool my face down, and to stop talking to me for a few minutes. He sat on the bench with me quietly eating his sandwich, which is another wonder of wonders – for he never eats outside unless it’s a pizza slice and he’s at a standing table. I’d like to see this guy at a drive-thru just off the interstate someday. After he finished, and I finished my water he quietly issued an apology, “I am sorry. I forgot you have the foot problem. We need to take the boat for you. I don’t want you to hurt when you are being on vacations.” And in my frustration with everything I burst into tears. Jeeeeez, Kris, way to go. He told me that when he is being “the pighead” I can thump him in the neck like his mother does. Alright, I’ve got carte blanche! I told him that I could also just sit down in the middle of the calle and wait for him to realize I’m not behind him. Okay, squabble over.
That evening I went in search of Tiziano, my friend who plays piano. He is currently booked to play at the Gran Caffe Quadri on Piazza San Marco. He’s not in the orchestra outside playing on the piazza itself, but in the restaurant/bar. It’s still a prestigious gig for certain, though. I found him and he gave me a shout out in song in a “doobie doo riff kind of way" (you had to be there, and those that were didn't catch it as they sipped their overpriced drinks.) He motioned me over during a quick break and told me I needed to sing with him before I left. I protested – this isn’t some hotel bar, Tizi, this place is famous and had been here since 1750-something. He told me nobody is paying attention, and even if they didn’t like it, they would be too afraid to ever say anything anyway. I relented and agreed. We’ve sung together before and there’s a certain number of songs that work really well for us. When he started back up he played Ray Charles’ “You Don’t Know Me” and we had our duet. I had my debut performance “on” Piazza San Marco. I left before I caused any more of a scene and ducked over to the “consulate” for my nightcap and then home to bed.
Tomorrow is another Mamma excursion; we’re going to Padova/Padua to the Basilica of St. Anthony’s to make a prayer pilgrimage.
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