My Gondola Filled with Love
The gondoliers were friendly, and easy to spot. Loitering near their boats, they were dressed in black-and-white-striped shirts, coordinating black pants, and straw hats that dangled with streaming red ribbons. They looked as if they had been waxed
with a fresh coat of machismo in order to match their highly veneered vessels. Big grins, projected chests, and open-hand gestures advertised their availability.
"Would you like to go for a tour?" a dark-haired Italian offered, as he stepped aside to reveal his prized possession.
I peered over the rails to inspect his slim glossy ride. It was much more impressive in person than literature or photos alone could have conveyed. "Maybe,?" I tried to sound reluctant, not wanting him to know that I simply had to cruise in a gondola before leaving the city.
I nudged my husband Chad to the side and tried to have a private conversation with
him, but there wasn't much I could do about the eavesdropping gondola man. I'm not usually a sucker for fairytale romance, but the experience really seemed magical. After agreeing to a price, the gondolier escorted us into his boat as if we were royalty, sitting us down upon a cushy miniature loveseat. Chad wrapped his arm around me, and I snuggled into his chest. I felt so happy, so loved. With a push against the stairway and a stroke of his oar, the gondolier sent us slowly floating down the canal. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of Venice. It was so peaceful here in the morning. The water splashed beneath the oar, trickling from the paddle into the canal before being submerged again with a plop. Plunge, drip, splish. The sounds were so calming. From side to side, the boat gently swayed with each row. I felt as though I were being rocked to sleep with a lullaby of pleasant rain. I listened drowsily, feeling my every muscle loosen. Peace caressed me. I relaxed for what seemed like hours, although I know that it was only minutes.
DONG, CLANG, BONG! I sat straight up and jolted to attention. The church bells were striking ten o'clock. Oh, how beautiful they were! Each tower emitted its own melody within the synchronized orchestra. Many of the tones were loud and deep, as they echoed through the city. A few were tinny, and others were eloquent. The repetitive chiming blended into a distinctive Venetian symphony. I felt like the music was calling me somewhere, drawing me into Venetian life. The sound gradually dissipated after each strike. Ding, clank, pinnggg. At last, the reverberations softly mingled and faded into the distance. The silence was haunting. Already, I missed the ringing bells.
Our gondola entered the main canal, and the hush was replaced with a conglomeration of sounds: the bustle of chatty tourists, the roar of speedboat engines, and the singing of gondola operators. How I loved to hear the booming Italian voices.
"Ti voglio bene . . . ," thrust its way into the air, over the lips of the Italian
serenaders, and into the souls of all who could hear. The romance was so thick that I couldn't help but breathe it in. At that moment, I had everything. I was young and in love, drifting through the canals of Venice with my best friend in celebration of our past decade together. This was exactly where I wanted to be. I inhaled deeply and tried to take a mental snapshot of the moment. This experience was MAGNIFICO!
All too soon, the storybook encounter came to an end. The Venetian clock struck midnight, so to speak, on this Cinderella story. We had returned to the starting point, and it was time to exit the boat. The gondolier helped us from our throne-like perch, and we returned to reality. Yet, I knew that I would never forget Venice and what she had given me. My gondola filled love still remains one of my dearest and most romantic memories.
--contributed by Laura Stone
Vanceburg, KY
Photo courtesy Laura Stone
Labels: Italy, romantic spots, Venice
posted by Grace Sydney @ 1:49 PM
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