We slept late, a joy. How was it already Wednesday — was it Wednesday?! Today was a casual day to go to the ghetto, Burano, and enjoy some vaporetto/water taxi time — poor woman’s cruise! It was a wonderful hour with sea breezes, sunshine, and the Venice Grand Canal to the lagoon. Burano was our destination — on Kelley’s list of favorite places. While I spent some downtime and they shopped, I had the exquisite pleasure of watching people — their dogs/clothes/family clumping and traits of DNA. Fascinating for me.
One beautiful couple: she topped out at nearly 4’10, I would guess, dressed all in black, limping in the curious walk of someone long accustomed to pain and handicap accommodation. One foot was in an orthopedic shoe that gave that one leg another 4 inches than nature allowed. Slow and unevenly she walked, holding onto the arm of a large man, shuffling and bent, and I could not tell which of them was directing the stroll, and which of them was being lead so tenderly were they leaning into each other.
The other fun observation was a man — dark, possibly Middle Eastern, who was with what must have been three grown sons. The father (I made/claimed him as such ) had the squarest jaw outside of a cartoon ever seen — is that called a lantern jaw? A giant square that follows from the ear bone on the right side around to the jaw by the other ear making each of the sons totally secure as a family unit.
Then the ghetto — there is the Ghetto Vecchio (old ghetto) and Ghetto Nuovo (new ghetto). I took a long, lovely hour watching children play while K and K did a tour. There are six guards there every day and night guarding the little island. The history is an amazing one of deep sadness and the resilience people have to endure. Over a thousand people were forcibly transported out during WW2, and if I remember accurately, 19 returned. Synagogues numbered at least 5. Now all are closed but two. People come back to honor the dead, and to proclaim that life goes on.
History is not only fascinating, but it is mostly unspeakably tragic too.
We ate nearby, then dropped in on a little guy — perhaps a rabbi — whose kippa kept falling askew, and without missing a beat he kept talking enthusiastically in English, Italian, and Hebrew. (maybe that was what he spoke — how would I know?).
He was dressed as a conservative with all the trimmings, and reading from the Torah — yet another Big Book type… Let’s just get clear — I spent some serious cash on a few gifts and mementos. And him. I’d probably have invited him home with me — he is an adorable guy with a rosy glow of the one touched with knowledge of the bitter as well as the sweet, great love and joy, along with deep word knowledge of his faith. Many of which I only nodded, as I had no idea what he said, to be honest, but he said it all so wonderfully. Fortunately, they were closing, so I had to go on my way clutching my bag of goodies.
Lew who knows me so well, knows I am a devotee of little old men and easily enthralled. I realized later — he was one of those — I wish I knew his name.
We had such lovely water bus rides all day. Spent a lot of time and fading energy walking down narrow alleyways, phone map app in Kiara’s hand — our guide back to someplace from somewhere else. Our feet swelled, our pockets emptier, and our bodies tired, it was time to go to bed. I really wanted to send this out, but Lew has been helping me — it’s great to have technical backup when the internet is so poor.
Hugs from institution Devan Giuseppe, Scuola.
The girls…