When Venetians graduate

I don’t understand it myself but this is how it goes.

When Venetians graduate – they make a fool of themselves. A fabulous dirty fool.

Campo Santa Margarita is the students’ hangout. Most of Venice closes at 8 but this is where one can find most places open till much later. When one goes to Campo in the day time in the months or March-April – expect a strange sight. You might see a boy dressed in a ballerina and a cowboy hat singing a song, or a girl in her inners with an octopus on her head (real octopus, seriously).

Who did this to them? Mostly, they do it to themselves. With a little help from their dear friends, of course.

When Venetians graduate, they throw a party at the Campo and everyone is welcome. And then friends do silly things. Sometimes throw food and miscellaneous items on them. Encourage them to wear silly outfits – it’s all planned – don’t be surprised if one of students removes a baton, harmonica or an embarrassing piece of underwear from his bag. This kind of embarrassment and humiliation is expected and justified 🙂

Then, as per ritual, the student begins his story. From day one, when he went to University what did he do, whom did he meet etc. etc. Now, to remember every detail is impossible and everytime he makes a mistake, the crowd of dear friends shout ‘Bevi, bevi!” which means “Drink, drink!” And the student drinks a glass of alcohol.

Then he starts again, makes a mistake again and he drinks again and then he starts again, makes a mistake again and he drinks again. Now he is too drunk to be coherent anyway and makes too many mistakes and the ritual goes on.

All of this happens in the Campo. These events generally have a lot of audience. But they are so common, its only tourists who are generally watching.

You watch a while and you think – what if university life were like this in Bombay. What if?

I see love everywhere…

Venice is a very romantic city.

Hena had forwarded me a couple of links about solo women travelers and one of the blogs duly noted that Venice is the top most city that one must NOT visit when she is a woman and is traveling alone.

Now, I am not against the idea of romantic love. I mean I grew up on it, sickeningly so. But all the kissing, hugging and intense displays of affection drove me to depths of loneliness and insanity in the first few weeks.

It was very ‘aww’ and cute in the beginning. It made one smile to see a couple blocking the traffic on a ponti (bridge) because they were so busy kissing. So much so that you could hardly see their faces.

But Venice has about hundreds of pontis and every single time, it is not so cute anymore. Some of them are just annoying. Get a room, please.

I have nothing against such celebration of love. I don’t. I understand the intense emotion of young people on honeymoons. I do. But you see, I am single and I need to cross this ponti to go home to myself.

But now, I am used to it. It doesn’t bother me anymore. Not one bit. Because everyone is in love. Everyone I know is either newly falling in love or re-falling in love or in love or almost in love. And I am listening to their stories and feeling their smiles. And all this love seems justified. Kiss away. Snuggle outside churches. Dance in parks. Celebrate.

Venice is a very romantic city. Did I say that already?

3 months

Its been three months since I left Bombay. Also, in a month or so, I will out of Venice, heading somewhere else.

3 months is a suitably long time. I miss my sister to bits. I wish some of my friends were here. I miss Bollywood and I miss the food.

But otherwise, on all other counts, I am deliriously happy.

And I am glad there were some who pushed me to take this up. Thank you guys.

Back home.

In a strange way, Venice has become home now. Not that I feel entirely settled here in any which way, but just the familiarity and the my comfort in the city makes me feel that I came home in the morning when the flight landed.

I wrote this when I got back from my trip to Paris and London. It was lying in my drafts all this while but still sticks true.

All the drama about missing home is slowing fading away and as much as I hate the lack of mobility in Venice (the boat timings still drive me mad) I like it. My university in an island in the Venetian sea, my balcony overlooking Lido and its warm summery houses and beaches, small daisies decorate every road I walk, magnolias bloom and daffodils wither. This island is sort of a black hole of loneliness or a condensed joy machine. Either way, it is becoming home. At least for now.