Venice is a normal city BUT

You have to remember Venice sits on a series of Islands and the logistics of keeping it normal, functioning, and afloat (no pun intended) are tremendous. Goods (food, lumber, sheet rock, wine, EVERYTHING comes in by train, overland trucks, or cargo boat. Along the edges of the main island in the industrial area, workers break large loads into smaller sizes, smaller portions get moved to a break down point where they are sub divided into hand truck manageable bundles and then moved by a person to the last destination. THE PROCESS IS LABOR INTENSIVE AND CONTRIBUTES IN LARGE MEASURE THE COST OF EVERYTHING. The neighborhood supermarket, two blocks fron my B and B, the RESIDENZIA RIVERIA received its food by an 18-wheeler very early in the morning. A major difference, however. The truck was driven onto a specially designed liter, so that that the transport boat could back into the causeway in front of the supermarket, open the doors of the truck, and special forklifts in and outside the truck unloaded specially designed pallets and moved them into the store through a door. Of course, I left the camera in the room.

Not so with the garbage. My camera was ready early in the morning when a funny looking green lighter pulled into a canal outlet going to the sea. The workboat was low in the water with a familiar looking contraption riding in the boat. WALLA, IT WAS A GARBAGE TRUCK tucked into a garbage collection boat. But wait, something was different. The top of the truck had hatches in it and the boat driver was sitting in a small control cab for a crane. Garbage collection is the reverse of supplying the island. Householders put one day’s garbage into small supermarket bags and leave them out side the door. The Commune of Venice (city) collects them in medium kitchen sized trash bags, which they stuff all into clear lawn/leaf capacity plastic bags. Not to little, not too big but easily handled by one person. The neighborhood garbage collections wind up in rolling carts, pushed to the side of a canal to meet their fate with the garbage boat.

The boat arrives, a section of the top pops open, the crane swings over a rolling cart and picks it up. It swings back over the open truck section, drops the cart on to bars which open springs on the cart bottom, the bottom drops and you hear the sound of bottles and cans as it all CRASHES to the bottom of the garbage truck. The compactor does its WHIRR, CRONCH, CRUNCH and the process starts over again with another cart.

Garbage disposal isn’t supposed to be this complicated, but then again, most of us do not live on the Island of Venice.

Last Night, Lucky Night

The organizers told us the tour took us to St. Marks square, and then we would go to dinner. The hosts were masters of understatement. We spent 20 minutes hearing about the history of the Basilica of San Marco in St. Marks Square. Then the guides invited us in through a side door for a private organ concrete, tour, alter walk through, and a visit to St. Mark’s crypt. We entered in darkness and sat listening to the first sounds from a huge pipe organ. Gradually lights came on, one by one, bank by bank, revealing millions of golden glass mosaic particles covering the walls and ceiling. WOW, double WOW. The Basilica can seat 1000 but was the private chapel of the Doge (elected ruler of the City Republic of Venice.) The vast majority of the tourists never even get inside of the hugh edifice, let alone hear an organ concert, and take a guided tour of the inside. Best of all, I was able to take some no flash photographs. Then off to a leisurely Italian dinner in one of the cities finest restraints, at the foot of the famed Feniche Opera House. MORE WOW!!!!

Blogging from Venice

Being without a computer since last Sunday has been more of a pain than you can imagine. Our B and B, had line trouble and had no phone or internet for 4 days. Relying on internet cafes and hot spots was time consuming, very expensive and dangerous to my computer (picked up a piece of malware that junk mailed my address book.)

Venice is a city designed for photographers. Everywhere you look that are 5 photos that you must take. Each is rustic, quaint, and beautiful. Therefore, you keep photographing, knowing there is no way possible to print all or even show them to friends. Our host at the B and B welcomed us with an unexpected meal, on him,we learned later. The photo above is the 1st course. After we unpacked, washed our faces, and changed, it was hardcore tourist time. In Venice that means WALK, WALK, and continue to walk. It was 4 miles the first day. Photography was on my mind and I wanted to capture as much as I could. The bed felt good that night.

15 hours, 25 Minutes to Freedom

Where did the term Freedom Bird originate? For me it was Nam in 68, the flight back home, the end of which was a symbolic pass along the length of the Golden Gate Bridge, wings rocking and every man and woman screaming their lungs out. In 15 hours and 25 minutes I will board a UAL flight to Frankfurt and then on to Venice, for some gelato, coffee and pastries, and a week with my younger twin brother, bopping around and refusing to grow up. I have not packed a thing yet. I have two piles and some more in the bedroom. Mentally I am on vacation and making plans for the photography. I will play tourist for 3.5 days and then morph into the conference photographer. This is pure vacation for me, a little kid, plenty of expensive toys and plenty of photo ops. What more can a person do as they wait to grow up.

Predeparture E-mails

Two important last minute emails arrived in the last36 hours. One was from the Congress Co-chair. He asked me to be his official photographer, something I have done for him in the past. My immediate reply, it will be my pleasure.

The second was from our B and B. My radar alarm bells went off and my thinking was "Now what? and gingerly opened the email like you do a paper envelope when you don't want to read the contents. It was a shock!! A cordial welcome e-mail from the owner telling us we were in the Julia room and asking what time we would arrive. What a pleasant surprise.

My response was: "How nice to get a welcome email from our home away from home. My brother and I arrive separately in Venice at 0940 and 1015 AM. We have to process, get money, find the luggage, buy a Venizia pass etc. Then it is time for a gelato. After that we will water taxi, train, or bus to the island. Then it is time for coffee and pastry. We hope to arrive at your home ~ 1400-1500 hours. Is that good for you? By that time and after all that heavy lifting, we might need another gelato.

Cherry Blossoms, Wind, Cold, Snow, and Frost Bite for All

What do I know? I am only the photographer. The groom to be called the day before the shoot and asked if a 10' Celsius temperature was too cold for scheduled photo session. After converting to Fahrenheit, checking sunset time, I said "Nah," good to go. BUT, a 20-30 MPH wind knocked our socks off. The bride had a short sleeved blouse, light weight jacket and a borrowed mans coat. The groom had a long sleeved shirt and a suit jacket in the car. We did the first location with a small degree of pain as the bride slipped her strapless gown over her had for a quick photograph. The pain increased as we walked to the second location. When we got out of the car at the third, with all the cherry blossoms, their pain was real (so was mine). Sooo, when we arrived at Union Station, the last location, everyone was totally happy. The photographs were the best, as all of us thawed out. When will I learn to trust my gut?

Getting Ready –Part 3

Today’s series of emails gave us a final program, a welcome, as well a list of inexpensive accommodations in Venice in Italian of course. So much for my 16-hour expeditionary march across the web searching for our B and B. The most important gem my friends Gian Carlo Di Renzo and Giovanni B. La Sala,the co-chairpersons, sent was a link to the Conference Center on San Servolo Island, in Venice. Click on it and you will see 6 photographs of a stunning island devoted to the learning process. Sometime it pays to be the son of a famous physician, (te he te he).