This morning I set off to the cemetery island of San Michele, more commonly known as Cimitero. The weather had changed overnight and it was a bit hazy, which I thought suited the mood. I have it on not so good authority that it’s probably on an island because everyone knows zombies can’t swim. There is a red brick wall running around the whole island and a big gate looking back over Venice. Here it is in the distance.
I got on the Vaporetto at Fte. Nova where there is a handy abundance of flower shops and tombstone carvers.
Cimitero is the only cemetery in Venice. Everyone who has died in Venice since 1797 is buried here, but only the rich and famous can rest in peace. The vast majority of mere mortals get a bit of a lye down, and are then dug up and stacked in filing cabinet style tombs to make way for the newly dead. Space is at a bit of a premium.
The thing that strikes you most as you enter, apart from all the lizards, is the colour. It’s not actually a miserable or spooky place at all. Almost all the graves are covered in colourful flowers. They also all have photos of their occupants so it’s a strange experience wandering around and getting to know the ‘islanders’. It’s a funny feeling to be in a place where the dead outnumber the living, but it’s very peaceful and tranquil, I even sat and read my book for a bit. The saddest part was the amount of children and baby’s graves. They keep them all together so it’s easy to see how many people never used to make it to adulthood.
There are a few smaller walled sections off the main cemetery, reserved for foreigners, for instance when someone died on a ship docked at Venice, and also for non-catholics. In this area the writer Ezra Pound is buried and also the composer Stravinsky. This part is much more neglected.
Taking photos of any part of the cemetery was banned but I did break the rules a little bit. I had to take this photo of one of the larger mausoleums on the right as you enter. These are big shrine-style huts owned by families that have gates on them and are like little chapels. You can see through the glass of most and some are smashed or only have railings on them. Lots are well kept and have fresh flowers in them but some are completely ruined. This one almost looks like a stage set of what a smashed shrine should look like, complete with fake dust and trinkets.
Here's another nice one in a bit of a better state. You can see the small photographs of the back wall of all the family members burried in it.
I left and headed back on a packed Vaporetto to the main island. I wandered home to get some lunch and on my way had a chat with a nice cat. He was very lethargic so didn’t show much gratitude, but I think he appreciated the stroke.
I also passed this small printing house.
My pictures are awful as they were just opening up after lunch and not all the lights were on for me to get a good shot but you can just about make out an old press, that they still use. Venice was at the forefront of printing technology and the earliest form of italic type was developed here (probably not in this actual shop). Apparently donkeys used to carry books back over the Alps to Germany. The first musical manuscripts were also printed here. In fact Venice is still an important city in terms of musical production. The string manufacturer Aquila Strings is based just outside Venice and is a pioneering manufacturer of ‘nylgut’ lute strings, as good as the original cat gut but without the missing pet posters. Vivaldi also hung out here and used children from the orphanages in his choirs.
Enough of my rambling facts. Check out this dog’s chilled out style. He hangs around with his owner, part of a team of delivery men, on their round. They told me they thought he was very photogenic.
The next photo is a bit of self-indulgence as it’s about the only tourist snap I think I’ve managed to take that is any good. It does show a bit of a change in the weather though. I put a long sleeve top on for the first time today and we’re forecast heavy rain for tomorrow.
After lunch I decided to head to the Iceland Pavillion to see Olafur Olafsson, not to be confused with the other Icelandic artist Olafur Eliasson, as I did.
I spotted Ronald Mc Donald a little worse for wear...
Then found an eager host who would have been grateful of a head donation.
The evening ended with cicchetti (spelt right this time!) at Gia Schiavi and a few vinos. It is the perfect stop off on the way home and fuel for blog writing. As we had a younger, more boisterous member of our group this evening who’s attention span didn’t accommodate standing around slowly sipping wine and eating, we also set up an impromptu paper gondola making workshop on the canal side. I say we, it was Sherrell and her bag of magic Kinder Surprise toys, but I joined in and we floated the gondolas off down the canal. Not very environmentally friendly I know, but fun if you’re a young kid and your mum just wants to stand around talking to adults, it was the least we could do.
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