At the boathouse in New York’s Central Park, this gondola was moored and sadly only half covered. Maybe it’s been a long winter, but she was a bit beat up along her side and her forcola was well-worn. Still, I always sigh when I see a gondola–a sigh of nostalgia for Venice, a sigh for the beauty of Tramontin’s asymmetrical lines, a sigh for that glossy black hull and silver ferro.
As I sat inside the boathouse sipping at my spritz, away from the blustery wind, I asked the barman about the gondolier. “Is he Venetian?”
“I’m supposed to tell you yes,” he replied.
When the weather warms a bit more, the gondolier will return and the gondola will get to do what it’s meant to do. Until then, we can enjoy the blustery wind, the daffodils and tulips.
“I’m supposed to tell you yes.” Now that’s an ambiguous answer if I ever heard one.
Yeah, I even worried about writing this down since it seems to concern his job security…. Good thing I leave out names to protect people’s identities!