Action Man!

The prettily wrapped gift sat on my pillow when I walked into the bedroom. I called out, “What’s this on my pillow?!” so my partner RJ would hear me from the other room. He came in to watch me unwrap his gift–his competition–a Casanova Action Figure!

He wears a blue plastic coat and green plastic waistcoat over white breeches, white stockings, white shoes. Where are his heels? Where is his plumed hat? Yet he does hold in front of his face a volto mask, though it’s black instead of the typical white of his day. Though his hair is long in back, I wouldn’t say it’s styled to deserve excommunication, as the Abate Tosello admonished him. His little plastic cage fits atop a sexy red and black rendition of the Rialto Bridge over the Grand Canal.

The best part is the text on the packaging. “More than just a lover,” it reads, “Casanova was also a secretary, soldier, preacher, alchemist, gambler, violinist, spy, journalist, fugitive, author, traveler, diplomat, entrepreneur, librarian.” An impressive–and accurate–list! They got it right! And they didn’t merely capitalize on his reputation as a seducer. (The funny thing is, shortly before RJ gave my Action Man to me, I had been preparing a presentation on Casanova and made a list similar to this one on my first slide, before seeing that Casanova’s makers had had the same idea.)

The back of the package is even better. Boxes of text outline his exploits, from his seductions and adventures to his writings, including his obscure sci-fi novel titled the Icosameron, “about a brother and sister who spend 81 years dwelling among the Megamicres of Protocosmos in the interior of the planet.” One sidebar labeled “Legend” defines a “casanova” but then points out that “However, many scholars maintain that Casanova was not a casanova, but rather, a caring and thoughtful lover who had honest feelings for many of the women he had relations with.” An accurate depiction based on his memoirs and biographies! Whoever created this little gem did his (or her) homework.

One big problem, though: his name. It gives his name as Giovanni Giacomo Casanova, which does appear in some sources, but is, in fact, erroneous.

My favorite line: “Weapon of Choice: Seduction.”

The packaging does warn me that this Action Man could be a choking hazard. I blame that line.

The Music Swells

I had email today from my friend Summer, who is in Venice right now. She had the risotto at Da Romano on Burano. She had a spritz con Aperol. She’s staying at the Hotal Ca’ Bragadin Carabba, next to Casanova’s house. She’s making me simultaneously very happy for her and also quite jealous.

So what did I do? I watched Summertime.

It’s not only my favorite Venice movie, but it’s also a sort of bitter cure for whenever I’m missing Venice. I pine and sigh–and am always happily annoyed at the crazy montages that have Katherine Hepburn’s pensione near both the Accademia and the Rialto at the same time. Or she’s standing in the Piazza San Marco taking a picture of the Goldoni statue in Campo San Bartolomeo. I’ve finally learned to shut my mouth about these inconsistencies and just enjoy the scenery.

As Hepburn enters the Piazza San Marco for the first time, the music swells. Shouldn’t the Piazza come with a soundtrack? At the moment each person enters it, a sensor should notice and cue the music to swell. Or, in keeping with the idea of Venice becoming a theme park, each person should be issued headphones with a soundtrack. (Yikes! What am I saying!) What song do you think would be perfect for the moment you enter the Piazza? Please write in with your suggestions! Or create your own soundtrack and put on your headphones as you enter the Piazza–for the first or the fifteenth–time.

Here’s the scene when Hepburn first sees Rossano Brazzi in the PIazza:

Pour a spritz or a glass of wine and enjoy–and send me your Venice soundtrack ideas!

Kiss the Forehead and Grab the Butt

I can’t believe it took me so long to post this link! Long time readers will remember that I mentioned Cat Bauer’s blog post about helping to line up a gondolier for a Singapore TV show called Jobs Around the World. The same Singapore company had contacted me, but my gondolier friend Bebo wasn’t able to help them out. I had been looking for this link forever, and Cat Bauer sent it, but I got distracted with work and forgot about it! Silly me!

Anyway, here it is, the 11th episode of Jobs Around the World, featuring Lorenzo the gondolier teaching Bryan the host how to row. Lorenzo works out of Traghetto Santa Sofia, a place I’ve spent a lot of time and wrote about in my first book Free Gondola Ride. The show is really great and includes a visit to a shop where they make gondolas. Watch it (24 minutes) and discover why you should kiss the forehead and grab the butt when greeting people. Must be a Singapore tradition?

http://video.xin.msn.com/watch/video/jobs-around-the-world-episode-11/1dlipqrlx?src=v5%253ashare%253atwitter%253a&from=sharepermalink-twitter

Little Old Man Club

Old Italian men like to hang out. Drink wine. Buy wine for others. Play the accordion. Both in both Italy and California, apparently.

Last Friday night, the Italian American Heritage Foundation (IAHF) invited me back again to one of their events. It was a night of pasta, salad, and nonna-made pizzelle, followed by arias sung by members of the San Jose Opera. People bought me pinot grigio and nero d’avola. I donated a couple books to the raffle and got to meet and shmooze all evening. But the place also evoked for me some strong memories of Venice.

One wandering guy playing accordion brought my mind back to a summer dinner at Da Romano on Burano. We had heard about the go risotto and booked an early dinner reservation. While the tourists all petered out of the square, the local men wandered in.

As we sipped prosecco and figured out what else to have with the risotto, one guy brought out his accordion and began playing for his friends. This wasn’t someone working for tips going from trattoria to trattoria. He was hanging out with his buddies on a gorgeous evening. He’s the guy in the blue shirt on the far right.

Those who say that Venice is overrun by tourists apparently don’t know where to look for locals.

The IAHF hall last Friday held about 150 people, of whom about six were under 50 (me, the two teenage girls getting community hours to serve dinner, someone’s 7-year-old, and a brother and sister who are helping to re-vamp the organization). It reminded me of the Little Old Man Club I got to visit in Venice once.

I often stay in the Santi Apostoli neighborhood, and there are a couple guys there that I see every time I visit. Giorgio is often pretty tipsy at all times of day and treats me to a prosecco now and then. One day, we ran into each other in the street, and he said it was time to visit his club. I had seen its sign countless times because it was at the end of the street where my apartment was. But this time I got to go in! About 30 men, all over 60, were hanging out, having an afternoon drink, arguing politics, discussing arthritis, or football, or women, who knows. They were hanging out and I got to visit this most exclusive club and drink wine from a small water glass. I’ve never again seen the place with its door open. But the IAHF reminded me of that day.

Back from my musings, I focused again on the IAHF hall when the singers began their arias. Of course I have a couple aria memories. On my first solo trip to Venice, I had a dinky apartment across from Ai Promessi Sposi, an ancient trattoria on a little alley. As I lay awake in a daze of jet lag, older neighborhood men stood in the restaurant doorway with wine in hand and sang arias. Thank god I couldn’t sleep. It was a dreamy introduction to a city I would fall more and more in love with, one whose little old men serenaded me from under my window. Here’s the restaurant, where I’m having dinner with my friend Jan.

On a later trip, with friends who joined me to celebrate Carnevale, we were befriended by Giulianno, the chef at Ai Promessi Sposi, and Emiliano, the manager (who looked like a young George Michael and sang like him too!)

Here he is:

We were there almost every night, and so were the little old men. They linked their arms through ours and sang us songs and raised their glasses. They kissed us on both cheeks. We fell in love with them. These men know not only how to live but also how to grow old.

From Opera to Kisses

More events coming up!

This Friday, May 3, I’ll be at the Opera San Jose night in order to donate a copy of my book to help support the opera. Come by our Italian heritage table if you’re there!

On Sunday, May 5, I’ll be talking about self-publishing with my friend Bob Tower at the Santa Clara Public Library from 2:00 to 4:00. We’ll answer lots of questions and share our experiences with self-publishing and e-book publishing.

http://events.mercurynews.com/santa_clara_ca/events/show/321778623-self-publishing-in-the-21st-century

Then next Thursday, May 9, I’ll present Seductive Venice as part of the Woodside Priory’s Insight series from 7:00 to 8:30. Have some pizza and a glass of wine and see if you can answer enough quiz questions to win a chocolate kiss!

Hope to see some friendly faces! Please tell your friends, too.

Last week’s event at the San Jose Italian Heritage Foundation was a great success. So many friendly people shared their love for Venice, and I think we created a whole slew of new Casanova fans. Thanks to all for their enthusiasm and support.

Blue Lives On

“And thus the die was cast, the stage was set. There would be no turning back.”

Those of you who have been following this blog for a while know that last April I started a new tradition. Each April, I will reread a book by Norma Howe, young adult book author and my friend, who passed away two years ago this month.

I just finished Blue Avenger Cracks the Code, the second book in the Blue Avenger trilogy, where Blue goes to Venice. Here’s the passage that made me know I had to meet Norma. Blue and his friends arrive in Venice and take the vaporetto to the Rialto, near their hotel. They notice the way the vaporetto worker ties the rope around the piling, and a “short, gray-haired woman with a round, pleasant face” says to Blue’s friend Drusie:

“This is your first trip to Venice?”

Drusie smiled. “Yes, how did you know?”

The woman gestured over to the young man who handled the rope. “You’ll never forget that, as long as you live–the way he tossed that rope.”

Anyone who would notice that rope, which I had noticed myself, had to be a good person and a person I wanted to know. Now when I see someone toss the rope, I think of Norma. Is she the short, gray-haired woman?

It’s funny–Norma always questioned coincidences and scoffed at fate. So I guess it’s a  coincidence that I read that line, that I had noticed the rope toss, and that it moved me enough to make me want to meet her. I’m glad for coincidences. The stage was set for us to meet.

(I finished this post and looked at last year’s post about Norma–and found I had mentioned the ropes then, too. Ropes are important. Details are important. I could have changed this post to be more original, but hey, if that kind of detail led to a friendship, then it’s worth mentioning twice. Hope you don’t mind.)

Don’t Let Go of the Oar

“It could be said that the marvelous city, falling from the sky and splintering apart, had scattered about itself these shard of beauty.” Sean Wilsey, in his April 22 New Yorker article, here quotes 19th century poet Luigi Carrer when describing Venice’s surrounding island. Wilsey rowed from one to the next in a sort of mini mid-life crisis, trying to find some solace in aloneness and also reliving his early 20s, when he lived in Venice for a time, determined to become a gondolier. He writes about visiting the abandoned “infectious diseases” hospital and also drug dealers island (which is also described as a former dump until it caught fire).

But my favorite parts of the article are Wilsey’s descriptions of trying to row a gondola, which he likens to a giant skateboard. Except it’s not. On his very first gondola ride, he swapped places with the gondolier and said it felt like skateboarding on ice. Later, he takes rowing lessons from a blond in a bikini and is thrilled when she says he is good enough to row behind her.

Remember that forcola I bought in Venice in January? Wilsey’s names the parts of it–the morso, meaning bite, because it looks like a bite has been taken out of it; or the naselo, meaning little nose.

And I’m curious (and maybe some of you readers can help out here.) Wilsey translates the topo, a small Venetian boat, as a “rat.” I always thought topo meant mouse; in fact, Topolino is the affectionate term for Mickey Mouse. Is there another another slang usage?

But I don’t want to give away too much. The article is a good read. Online you can only see a portion of it, so you’ll have to buy a copy. It’s the April 22 issue, so you’ll have to rush to the store because I think the next issue is already out. Or check out this link, which shows some of the accompanying photos, and you can also see the first page or so of the piece on the website.

http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/photobooth/2013/04/slide-show-stefano-de-luigis-photographs-of-venice.html#slide_ss_0=1

(The photo from the top of the page is from this link.)

Grazie mille to Karen, the most dedicated of New Yorker readers, for sending this to me. I can’t believe I saw it before Gondola Greg (www.gondolagreg.com). Marco Zecchin will certainly appreciate the photos of abandoned islands, reminiscent of his photo series of Fort Ord (www.marcozecchin.com).