Venice seems to have more tourists than locals, and many of
those who are not tourists work in the city but do not live there. However,
this imbalance does result in a mixing of the cultures brought in by the
tourists. We stayed at a particular hotel with a German-speaking group as well
as a French-speaking group, in addition to the Italian employees, members of
each group would occasionally be present in the lobby simultaneously, and the
room would fill with the words and differing tones of four languages.
The
hotel itself stands as part of the continuous curving line of buildings on a
street. Like many such buildings, its narrow front belies its size. Its
architectural layout reflects the layout of Venice in its lack of central
hallways and symmetry. The route to our rooms required taking a zigzag path
through the building; to reach the first floor, one must first go to the
second.
The
windows open outward to let in voices and sounds, not only from the street
below, but from other windows on the same level and above. Likewise, in walking
along the quieter streets — those further away from the canal, we passed below
conversations between those leaning out of windows and those gazing up from the
street. Many windows boast the only green in sight, as grass appears to be
contained to miniature courtyards and to parks at the edges of the city. The
window boxes brighten the grey ''piazze,'' as do the Venetian children running
across the open squares.
