travelingidahogirl

Carnevale

I’ve got a few other visits to write about that happened before our Venice trip last Sunday, but I feel the urge to talk about this one now, so the others will continue to wait.

Carnevale is the Italian festival right before Lent (I think it means “farewell to meat”). I guess it is kind of like Mardi Gras (without the flashing). Various towns celebrate it in different ways, but it usually involves dressing in costume. In fact, I never saw costumes in the stores before Halloween—they don’t really celebrate it (although at T’s asilo, they had a few pumpkin and bat decorations; and we did get some Italian teenagers who sort of trick-or-treated at our house—not in costume—but I think it was only because they knew we were Americans). But this month, the kid stores have all sorts of masks, costumes, and confetti for sale. At T’s asilo, they are getting three days off for Carnevale/start of Lent and today, the last day before their break, all the kids wore their costumes to school (T went with Spiderman over the ninja--which he wore to Venice--but he didn’t like wearing the mask over his face. I guess his teachers thought his costume needed more, because when we went to his party today, he had a spider painted on his face and a bit of mini-mohawk in his hair—using sparkling gel, no less).

Although the towns have their own traditions, Carnevale in Venice is THE party. Regardless of what time of year you go there, you will always find masks on sale (though people aren’t wearing them). I’ve walked by more than a couple stores that claim they made the masks and costumes for the movie Eyes Wide Shut. I guess the anonymity of mask/costume-wearing can encourage some extreme behavior (but again, no flashing—first of all, these costumes are much too bulky and elaborate; second of all, they have some class).

Now, I can’t say I’ve gotten the full experience of Carnevale, and don’t know that I will. Most events are elaborate balls (at anywhere from €190-€500 tickets). I do want to experience Venice at night, but I’ll save that night for a less-crowded time. Still, I did want to see the place in party-mode, so we went on Sunday. The festival kicked off Saturday night, but the first Sunday at noon is when they have il volo dell’angelo, or the flight of the angel, on San Marco Square. They string cables from the top of the bell tower down to the piazza, and some surprise celebrity (at least for them, although in 2008 it was Coolio, of all people, a serious break from tradition, which is for the angel to be a beautiful woman), dressed as an angel “flies” to the ground (yea, click the link because you won’t see pictures of it here! And what's up with all that open space!!!!). I wanted to see this.

I really did plan to get there by 10 (remember, noon flight time). I knew it would be crowded and crazy. For various reasons, we were walking into the little square attached off to the side of the main square as the clock was striking 12. And I was foolish enough to think we could still wiggle our way far enough forward to see the angel (oh, by the way, by “we,” I mean me, Hubby, T (on my shoulders), and Louisiana gal—you haven’t met her yet, but she will be my travel companion on many a day-trip, I’m sure). [Picture shows where we were roughly at noon, during the playing of the "Hallelujah" chorus.]

As we worked our way into the mass of people, a few were squeezing out. When I say squeeze, I mean it: squish, mush, press, push. This was body on body, can’t see your feet, hold onto the belt loops of your pals or risk separation. We never did get far enough forward in time to see the angel, but we did see the cables. After it was clear we wouldn’t get anywhere close enough to see anything other than heads and shoulders, all we wanted was to get out. We weren’t but maybe 30-40 feet from a couple of exits, but it probably took us 45 minutes to get out.

We were in a sea of people. We tried to somewhat control our direction of travel, but really we just had to move with the flow. Although I never felt in danger, I can totally understand how people are trampled to death. Fortunately no trampling was going on here. But there were many shouts of “Permesso!” This is the Italian version of “excuse me” when trying to get by someone, basically “permit me to pass, please.” Honestly, I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or give them the “are-you-shitting-me?” look when I heard it. Like we were going to part the human sea for the gentleman asking to pass by? We were a horde of people all trying to get out. Still, they were polite. They said permesso as they attempted to shove the entire mob forward. [Picture below: I had no idea we'd gotten this far forward until I saw this picture--of course, this was long after we'd been trying to get OUT.]

The main problem with the many, many of us trying to exit through one of the few streets off the square was that a constant river flow of others were still emptying onto the piazzeta. (When we finally did make it into that alley [see picture], Hubby was yelling to those pushing by "Don't go! Turn around! You'll never get out alive!!") I don’t know how it was next to canal, but if it was as tightly packed on that end, people got wet.

Luckily, we were all in good spirits throughout the ordeal. It was definitely an adventure. Maybe the press of unknown human flesh is a familiar feeling for the mosh-pit crowd, but it was totally new to me. T was a great trooper. I had had the brilliant split-second decision to stop and buy a pear for him about two blocks from the absolute craziness, so he wasn’t starving and cranky. Plus, it probably helped that he could actually see something, riding high as he was. Still, by the end of it, he was asking to get down, but unless I was willing to send him body-surfing, that really wasn’t an option. Hell, half the time I couldn’t have even raised my arms.

We didn’t get to see the angel’s flight, but we did get out before the majority of people. This meant we were drinking wine and eating pasta while they kept walking looking for another restaurant. It usually works out in the end.

Traveling to and from San Marco was a lot of fun. We walked the entire way from the train station rather than take the vaporetto (one of the several reasons we arrived too late to see anything). I think it is typically a 50-60 minute walk, but it took us around 80 minutes. But it was fun. So many people were there, in costume, being merry. We’d stop at little squares along the way and T would run around, throwing confetti with other kids. Both T and Hubby bought silly joker hats.

After our lunch, we meandered along Riva degli Schiavoni, the waterfront promenade past San Marco, snapping pictures and eating gelato. Many of the elaborate costumed just stood on platforms posing with you for some coins. At this point, I donned a simple eye-covering mask and put on Hubby’s silly hat, thereby making myself look completely ridiculous. Like I said, lots of fun.

We rode the vaporetto back to the train station. Craziness went on without us.

posted by travelingidahogirl @ 8:54 PM