As with most things, the vibe and mood of a hostel has a certain ebb and flow to it. At some stages the hostel can be full of Asians with a stream of absurd requests and fickle complaints as well as a constant aroma of burning noodles. At other times the hostel will brim with fun-loving travellers united in the single goal of experiencing a city and travelling at its glorious best. A month ago the hostel was going through a purple patch and experiencing the latter. There were two Aussie guys who were outrageously popular,a ditzy illustrator from Cornwall, a travel agent from Vancouver, three English teachers from Ireland living in Berlin and small clumps of like-minded Americans studying abroad who made up the nucleus of the hostel. After a series of nights out in the bars we decided to experience a spectacle unique to Venice first hand, the Acqua Alta. This from the ever-reliable Wikipedia;
Acqua Alta (high water in Italian) is the term used in Veneto for the exceptional tide peaks that occur periodically in the northern Adriatic Sea. The phenomenon occurs mainly between autumn and spring, when the astronomical tides are reinforced by the prevailing seasonal winds which hamper the usual reflux. To allow pedestrian circulation during floods, the city installs a network of gangways (wide wood planks on iron supports) reproducing the main urban paths.
Yeah, so basically at certain times like in winter and at a full moon, Venice floods. Not all of it but only certain areas that are closer to the water or at a lower level. The high tide was scheduled for 11:46pm so after dinner we got everyone together and set off to meet up with the other hostel. We arrived at the other hostel to find them doing flaming Sambuca shots. We joined in and then got prepared by handing out plastic bags for the guests to use to cover their feet. Our total of 7 bags was good for 3 and a half people, so everyone decided to just man up and go bare foot. Everyone besides me and Beard, the other hostel worker, who had good old Wellingtons. The water was freezing so I wasn't willing to go barefoot. Beard, another friend from the Amsterdam pub crawl, decided to lead us on his special route.
His special route ignored all pedestrian signs and inspired by the flaming Sambuca's got us impressively lost. Once we realised we were going in the opposite of the desired direction, the group took over and we reached our destination St. Mark's square at the perfect time.
St. Mark's square is surrounded by the St. Mark's Basilica and Doge's Palace on one side and other official buildings make up the piazza. At day it seethes with tourists but at night it is empty and was on this occassion apart from the knee deep flash lagoon taking up all of it.
We shrieked and ran and jumped and wallowed around in it and then found some chairs and tables from a closed restaurant on the square and took them to the middle of this shimmering lake to chill out and drink and smoke and soak up this semi-phenomona. We spent a few hours there chatting about how cool we were but it was cut short when a guy from Texas drank too much whisky from a 2l Coke bottle and puked in the water we were standing in. We fled from the scene, the floating puke and the policemen calling us to put the tables and chairs back where they belong.
No comments:
Post a Comment