A Letter to Venezia (aka Venice)

Dear Venezia,

Before I went to visit you the first time (which was yesterday), I thought you would be faking it. I presumed there would be a canal with gondoliers and boats just so people can take pictures of this one place and then you could make a fortune on stupid tourists visiting you. You were sure to try to sell me a thousand different t-shirts that capitalize on the cute little boats we see in the pictures.

I'm writing to say I am sorry. I prejudged you (though I was still very excited to see, in person, what you were all about). As I ambled through your many neighborhoods where everyday people live everyday lives, I realized you are really being you. You are a wondrous place to enjoy without the roar of cars, taxis, buses or even the whine of motor scooters.

Yours are the sounds of water lapping on the sides of docked boats,

the "buongiorno's" of locals greeting each other at the little markets,

voices echoing off the stone walls (who all have their own stories to tell)

 and the pitter-patter of the feet of visitors navigating your narrow cobblestone streets in yours,
 the most clever and beautiful labyrinth.

Yes, you have tourists, but for hundreds of years you have had tourists. Tourists are part of your fabric and they are here to breathe in your air that smells of the sea, attend your operas, fall in love again at sunset on a gondola ride and buy your lovely glass sculptures such that they may invite you into their homes.

You have inspired artists and countless others throughout the ages through your deep, lasting beauty. And I thank you for proving your genuine ability to be you and stay you such that I could get to know you.

My feet would like to express their opinion as they are in a very bad state today; but they are being bound and gagged so you will not have to be bothered with such trivial matters.

Sincerely,
Your New Friend