August, 2013
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streets. You can try a map, you can scream at Siri, but it won’t help. There are streets in Venice less width than my arms stretched out. These said streets would appear on one map and then disappear to the next. The first hour of my being there I asked a young woman directions to the Rialto bridge, she looked at me and smiled in the kindest way, “Maps are useless here, getting lost is part of the charm.” I took her advice and got lost, over and over. My being lost brought me to an incredible but bizarre modern art museum, and a picturesque little bistro where I had squid ink pasta. The next day I happened upon locals having aperitifs and drinking Aperol spritzers on the edge of a canal. Their bright drinks blended in beautifully with the setting sun. I learned culture. I let go, noticed the details: the way the sun bounces off the water of the canals in tiny corners, the way the bottom of every door is decaying, the way locals spend their afternoons. Don’t want to stop and see the details? Venice is your helpful answer. It is sinking after all, at some point we have to let go. These moments, these details, make a place become something more than the inside of a travel brochure. If you do not believe me then open up a travel brochure for your town and tell me it doesn’t leave you dissatisfied. The sweeping generalizations don’t even begin to house the vast details of your day to day. If someone from across the world came to your town for two days, where would you take them? Probably not most of the must see suggestions in the brochure. Let me note, there are some great travel writers and their guides try to go beyond the traps. Use those as a spine to the body of your travel, or partial spine, but make your own footprints and don’t follow someone else’s. Like poetry, every interpretation is correct in that it is personal. Let go of expectations and look around, there is a god waiting for you in the details. www.thecitymagazineelp.com
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