Venice
In a dramatic example of human ingenuity, Venice, Italy, scored a major victory in its fight to survive rising waters that have threatened its very existence. Nearly five decades in the making, the city recently raised a system of barriers preventing a potentially devastating flood.
While in Venice, Italy, last summer, I came across a most unusual fountain in the Biennale Gardens near the city's historic Arsenale: It's a tall, slightly overgrown tribute to Giuseppe Garibaldi, the Italian general, politician and nationalist who is counted among the founding fathers of the modern Italy.
I almost put the word fountain in quotation marks in the first sentence above, because the structure's water flows in an unusual way: While I'm reasonably certain the imposing tower of volcanic stone, granite boulders and bronze statuary once had internal plumbing and flowed with the greater elegance befitting such a tribute, it now flows through bands of black tubing interrupted in places by dribbling spouts.
The odd effect is that the monument seems to be watered by an ordinary drip-irrigation system that keeps its plants green and aerates the turtle-filled basin at its base.
I know that resources for restoration of even relatively intact artworks are scarce in Italy in general and especially in Venice, where life is a constant struggle to keep everything operational in the face of a combination of rising seawater and subsiding ground. But it's sad and a bit dispiriting that funds apparently aren't available for more than a stop-gap fix for a monument of this prominence and grandeur.
But no matter: The fix works, and I still enjoyed seeing the monument, which was completed between 1885 and 1887 by Augusto Benvenuti, a local artist and sculptor.
My guess is that it stands nearly 30 feet tall, with Garibaldi, flamboyantly attired, standing at its peak. Beneath him is a lion - the most accessible and impressive figure in the composition - as befits its being in Venice, where these beasts are iconic fixtures almost everywhere. Behind and below Garibaldi is a soldier attired in a uniform of the sort worn by Garibaldi's troops.
I haven't been able to determine if there are any plans to repair the fountain and restore it to a more elegant form, but I'll hold onto that hope. In the meantime, the monument is worth a visit - if only to marvel at the beautiful turtles!
I had traveled through Italy before, but I'd never been to Venice - and arrived there late in June 2017 with all sorts of expectations and suppositions about what I'd find, especially when it came to water. The city is a collection of islands in a marshy
I've seen something of the future, and I'm afraid this part of it at least is going to be very, very sad. We've just returned from a glorious vacation that took me and Judy to Venice, Italy, to celebrate her retirement after a long career as a teacher. She'd been there before, more than 40 years ago, but I'd had to
One of my favorite places on earth is the Greek island of Crete. It's actually quite large by island standards, stretching for 160 miles east to west as a sort of southern rampart sheltering Greece's other islands in the Aegean Sea.
When I traveled the world back in 1978, this was one of my few mandatory destinations: A couple years earlier, some friends of mine had stayed in what was then a tiny fishing village called Myrtos on the island's south coast, and I knew when I landed in England in April that I would be spending the whole month of August there, taking a long break from what was otherwise an always-on-the-go itinerary.
The ship from Athens arrived at Crete's port of Heraklion early in the morning, and I had several hours to wait before a semi-direct bus would take me southward. I spent the best part of that morning in a café off what was formally known as Eleftheriou Venizlou Square - named after a Cretan statesman but much more widely known as Lions Square because of the wonderful fountain at its heart.
Crete was under the control of Venice, the commerce- and conquest-oriented Italian city-state, for more than 400 years starting around 1200 AD. Through Venetian influence, the entire island but particularly its main port moved past the Middle Ages and into the Renaissance. The Lions Fountain, which dates to a point late in the Venetian regime, is formally known as the Morosini Fountain to honor the city commander who headed a drive to bring water from a nearby spring into the heart of the city.
It's a beautiful example of Venetian civic architecture and sculpture of that period: powerful, stately and every bit an expression of strength and confidence radiated by one of the great powers of Mediterranean trade and politics for the best part of 800 years.
But Heraklion's history stretches back quite a bit farther: It was the principle city of the Minoan civilization, which thrived on Crete from 2700 to 1420 BC, and the city is dotted with inklings of that era - a stirring place to visit in more ways than one. These traces are essentially prehistoric, but it is thought that the Minoans and their culture were destroyed when a great volcano erupted at nearby Thera (now known as Santorini, another incredible place to visit).
But back to the fountain: It was sculpted in the early 17th Century by Venetian craftsmen and is among the finest examples of art from that period that survives on the island. I saw it on several occasions during my stay: I received letters through the American Express office in Heraklion and made the eight-hour excursion twice in hopes my correspondence would catch up with me there. (It did, thank goodness.)
Heraklion and Myrtos were sleepier places 40 years ago, but I understand that the fountain has recently been restored to a level of performance that far exceeds what I saw in 1978 and that the square itself is a happening place - right in line with its historic role as the city's largest open gathering space.
I'd love to go back to Crete, although this time I think I'd stick to Heraklion: I have unpleasant memories of the bus trip and some harrowing hairpin turns in the island's high mountain passes. But maybe they've widened the road by now, and perhaps even added a few well-placed guard rails?
Compiled and Written by Lenny Giteck Italian Politician Swims to Sicily to Win Over Voters
