THE LIDO

The eastern horizon, as seen from San Servolo is bounded by the island of the Lido. Eleven kilometers long and about a mile wide, the Lido is the barrier between the Venetian Lagoon and the Adriatic Sea and keeps the chaos of the open sea out of the (usually) peaceful waters of Venice. Along with with the of rest of the "landscape" pf islands, ships, Venice, and water, the camponiles and domes of the Lido seems to be the embodiment of a Renaissance background, an idealized horizon of palaces, water, and foilage. This is especially so because of a giant dome on the Lido, present in the picture at right. I have not found out what it is, and so it still exists in the realm of myth and mystery for me.

Last Thursday, the weather was warm enough that we decided to go to the Lido beach, apparently a famed locale. Unfortunately for us, the weather turned cold during the hour or so we used to get to the island, but it would remain an interesting experience.

The trip from San Servolo to the Lido is ridiculously long when one eyeballs the distance between the two islands. If the distance were filled with land, I could have easily walked between the two places three times in the time in took to arrive. Of course, this is a necessity of public transportation to islands and it is unjust to complain about speed when access is something of a marvel.

The ride to the Lido from the main island was crowded. As soon as we embarked, we were nearly run over by a strange metal contraption that had little regard for pedestrian right-of-way, in other words, a bus. A mere week in Venice had totally transformed my perception of cars and roads. I was now genuinely anxious, almost afraid, of the zooming vehicles. Some of us joked that Venetians were constantly walking into traffic and getting hit because they were so unprepared for dealing with automobiles. Another striking thing about the roads on the Lido is how much space is devoted to them. Roads are huge! The sidewalks, parking spots, and traffic paraphernalia take up vast tracts of space, stupifying a mind grown accustomed to cramped medieval calli.

The Lido is to Venice as Disneyland is to Los Angeles; it is a simulacra so outrageous that it makes the simulacra of Venice appear real. Of course, I saw only a small part of the island, but that small part was revealing. Nearly every other store sold gelato. The other stores sold postcards, models, swimsuits, glasses, snowglobes, and other tourist fare. By the time we got to the beach, the signs had stopped bothering to be written in Italian -they were all in English!

A large white wall blocked off the public beach from the rest of the island. To get to it, we had to cross a wide street. There were hardly any cares, but I still felt like Frogger. It is amazing how much more stressed a pedestrian is in a city with cars. The entrance to the beach was really cool. There was a giant spiral staircase tower (unfortunately closed) and some walkways overlooking the beach. On the other side, most facilities (including bathrooms) were closed, but there were still plenty of people chatting at the cafe and milling about. Almost no one was in the water.

We staked a spot near the Adriatic Sea, and I waded out into it after changing behind a fence. It was cold! Well, actually it was pleasantly cool, but the cool weather made it seem frigid. The only other people besides us who braved the water were two Russian women laughing and splashing each other in the cold water and an Italian man doing some intense swimming. The water was very, very shallow, and we kept hitting sandbars that would take us back up almost to the surface. We got beyond yelling distance of the shore and could still easily walk. This illustrates how shallow the Lagoon must actually be despite its appearance of depth. There were also many pretty seashells, and my toes were pinched by a crab I accidentally stepped on.

The trip back was uneventful. The beach would have been wonderful had it been a little warmer; I am sure it is nightmarish crowded during the warm season though. It is also a fascinating illustration of the need of a modern city to construct an absurd simulacra in order to make itself seem real.