At the train station I bought a ticket to La Spezia, finally feeling I really was in Italy. I felt determined and sure of myself. The receptionist was right, ‘such a night...’
When I got to La Spezia, I didn’t have to think twice. The row of dusty bushes outside the station formed a tall fence below which the harbour heaved, occasionally letting out a geyser of smells, roars and rusty creaks like a giant whale. In that very moment, Corsica transformed itself into a grabby forgotten postcard. However, my goal was achieved or more or less revealed itself to me and I had no wish to wallow in self-pity. I opened the window of the stale fortress my body had become and let in all the fresh air; why stand in its way and continue to chase my own shadows over and over again?
I returned to the office window and asked about the next earliest train to any large city.
‘There’s a train to Venice in fifteen minutes and one to Rome in forty’, came the response from behind the window.
I set off for Venice.
I visited the city as a young child with my parents and my brother but had no memory of it; perhaps only the pigeons. I had exhilarating fantasies about the city, in which mist mixed with blazing sunshine, salty sea breeze and intricate secrets. The blurred silhouettes of Giacomo Casanova, Lorenzo Da Ponte and Antonio Vivaldi, and the even fuzzier figures of doge informers, agile gondoliers and carnival masks. The stench of fish and evening dusks in a damp city. As I found out, I wasn’t far from the truth, but I had no idea what a firm grasp this city would take on me. It would grip and hold.
I jumped off the train at the Santa Lucia station and after stepping outside of the building, let out a gentle groan. Without warning, the beautiful city exploded in front of me like fireworks. It was eleven o’clock at night. The city greeted me with the Canal Grande shaking its head as if to say ‘what took you so long’, and on the left the Ponte degli Scalzi was bidding me to enter, letting me know everything was ready. I had to sit down on the steps and wait for my heart to calm down and to catch my breath.
I stayed in the city for three days. Whether I was naked or whether Venice imprinted one of its enchanting masks onto my face was irrelevant. I was happy. I was in love.
I fell in love with a city. It don’t want to describe those three days, it would be pointless to even try. It was an intoxicating wedding night. I drunk from the sea at the San Marco square and allowed myself to be carried away...