STALKER

Chapter 73 - Sunrise - 25th Feb 1721 Venice Part 1

Sunrise 25th February, San Marco Square - Doges Palace colonnade -  Republic of Venice

Bauta mask, Mantel,  three-cornered hat, and cape.   One of the 7 traditional masks of the  Venecia Carnivale -  bauta, moretta, gnaga, medico della pesta, pantalone, arlechino, colombina

Where and when to arrive is problematic with this jump. I don't know how the world works in 1721. The only time I've seen Saint Marks Square is in documentaries when it's packed with tourists snapping photographs.

I am arriving in the months of the Carnivale and during its most hedonistic period. The indulgent parties and balls held by the nobility and merchants were notoriously decadent and lavish. They would go on into the early hours, sometimes they would last for days. Their guest's anonymity hidden behind masks was the main attraction of these events. The social norms regarding rank, gender, and sexual preference, were set aside. The rigid rules that controlled every aspect of life in Venice, La Serenissima, of noble and commoner alike became mute once they donned their masks. No one could be arrested while wearing a mask, they were not acknowledged as a person. They were their mask, the role they played.

I decided arriving at Sunrise would be best, even though I wasn't sure if I'd find myself in the middle of a crowd of drunken party-goers, or codega on their way home after a long night traversing the narrow alleyways of the city. I could be lucky, the square could be deserted. It will be cold which will work in my favour.

The target area is along the colonnade at the back of The Doges Palace. It faces out onto the Grand Canal. What an amazing vista to meet my eyes when I arrive. The main Square is directly behind me. I plan to do some reconnaissance of the Café Florian and the Vezzi Porcelain Shop, both in the Square proper, and where I will be going on later jumps. As I am arriving early I'm hoping the streets will be quiet and will allow me a little time to explore at my leisure. I look forward to a chance to walk along the Grand Canal or perhaps meander through the narrow lanes to find the Rialto Bridge and compare the original to the new.  

A little exploration is allowed, who wouldn't want to in a city as beautiful and mysterious as Venice especially while the Carnivale was on and during a time when it was one of the most influential cities in the world?    After that I will curb the urge to play timetourist and concentrate on the main reason I am there,  which is to find an item that I can read, to learn the language. For my plans to work I need to speak as eloquently as a nobleman; and also speak the courser street language of a Venetian commoner.

.....

Leaving was delayed because Weirdo arrived to deliver another parcel.  Once he got over the shock of me in my  Batua costume he wanted to know the When, Where, Why, What and Who, of the whole shebang.  But I didn't have the time.  I promised him a detailed update when I got back.  He kept frowning, no matter what I said.  I had to point out this was my, I had to think about it, 12th jump.  That seemed to make him frown more.  I ushered him out the door and he finally got the message, it was not "question time".   Instead, he asked.

"Can I see your face?"  To which I said no.  I wasn't going through the process of getting everything right for a second time.  "I want to kiss you," Weirdo said quietly.

As nice as that would have been it was a nay to that too.  "I'll be back after I finish work."  He gave me one last look, his face expressionless and put on his helmet.

"Fine." and I pushed him a little further out the door. "Until then...."  I waved him off and closed the door.  It was exactly the way I would have liked for us to meet after last night, but I was on a roll and I didn't want to stop for anyone or anything.

I went back to my room, and checked my phone was fully charged it went into one back pocket, cigarettes in another, a tote bag over my shoulder, and tazer in a holster attached to my belt, and a small pencil flashlight.  

I went out and stood in the middle of the area at the bottom of the stairs and took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves; and shook off any last doubts.   This was always the part that gave me butterflies.  I tugged on my gloves.  I was ready.

......

I arrived.

As I stood trembling from the jump, my heart thumping against my chest I tried to breathe and steady myself.   As my eyesight cleared, I focused on my new surroundings. Along the colonnade on either side of me only the odd lantern, hanging high from the vaulted ceiling, glowed feebly. I stood halfway along a row of arches and slim columns. The main square was in darkness. There was no one around. I was relieved I had arrived unseen. As I turned towards the Canal, I stared in absolute wonder at the sight before me. Had I fallen into a painting by Canaletto?

Through the archway I beheld the sleeping city of Venice, in an age of nobility, merchants, and fine art; of sailing ships, gondolas, and bateilons; a far cry from cruise liners churning up the canal, and snap-happy tourists. This version of the city was waking to a different sort of chaos, it pulsed with a different sort of life. 

It was still gloomy, a faint smoky haze hanging low over the buildings. It was a new moon and the sun was only a faint glow along the dark silhouette of builds on the far side of the Canal. Lanterns blazed on the bows of fishing boats coming into the Grand Canal with their night's catch. They moved silently, occasionally a portion of a conversation floated towards me.

The only other sound was the gentle tide lapping at the edge of the promenade only a few meters in front of me. Unlike present-day Venice, there were no pristine gondolas neatly moored in a row and decorated with plastic roses in front of the Doges Palace. Here there were long lagoon boats piled high with cargo; Bragagna fishing boats, their masts askew and sails furled; and black shimmering gondolas, all crammed together. No pretty view for the tourist to take a selfie in front of. All working boats, the men who worked on them living hard lives.

The sun rose quickly and before I knew it life was going on around me, the working day had started. Peddlers appeared and settled into their spots along the colonnade to sell their vegetables, bread, and flowers. Artisans prepared their tents and tables, selling their wares to travelers happy to purchase a souvenir, a small treasure on their Grand Tour.

None of that mattered to me at that moment, I stared at San Giorgio Maggiore Basilica as it appeared to float on the canal; its white façade glowing in colours you only find in Turner paintings. I was lost. I had never seen anything more magical. 

A morning work bell from a distant tower tolled,  the sound rolling out across the city.  It announced the start of the working day for the residents of Venice.  It woke me from my daze and I became aware of the stream of people coming into the square.  The enormous doors of San Marco Basilica were being dragged open for the faithful's morning mass.  While others moved along the promenade heading toward the boats.  The thoroughfare was getting busy, fishing nets were being pulled and untangled,  baskets of fish were hauled off to market; shop owners swept the doorways of their businesses.  

It was only when I saw two figures coming along the colonnade in my direction, both dressed in their Batua masks, their black capes rustling, I remembered what I looked like.   As they passed they nodded, so I nodded.  Comrades in anonymity.  It reminded me what I was there for, to  learn the language as soon as possible.  I'd wasted time enthralled by the view.  I had to get my finger out and go and check out Cafe Florian and The Vezzi shop immediately.