A Venetian interlude, Part 4

Murano

Sorry for the delayed post, my Internet access has been somewhat fickle as of late. The final Venetian Interlude concerns our trip to the nearby island of Murano, which is world-famous for its high-quality and beautiful glassware. While awaiting the ferry to take us over the water Mike and I encountered a fellow American traveler. I don’t recall learning her name, although this should be taken with a grain of salt given that I also don’t remember if I had breakfast today. Regardless, she turned out to be an opera singer living in Florence for a time. This was her last day in Venice and she had decided to see the glass factories before leaving for an audition elsewhere in Italy. A life of traveling and performing seems like a wonderful way to see the world (although she said it wasn’t a particularly easy one). Eight years of voice school, and barely enough money to get by and slowly pay off loans. Still, if one is happy, that is enough.

After arriving in Murano we parted ways, with Mike and I going to a glass factory while she found breakfast. Calling the place a factory seems a bit of a misnomer, as in reality the building held nothing but a furnace and an elderly glassblower. (To me at least, ‘factory’ evokes images of assembly lines and towering smokestacks.) Somewhat surprised but curious, we sat down to watch him work. In only a couple minutes the artisan had produced a beautiful clear glass vase. Despite having scalloped edges, an ornate handle, and a tapered form this work of art paled before his next creation. To this day I have no idea how the artist did what he did, and watching it felt like being in the audience of a stage magician. From a reddish-orange lump of molten glass he pulled three projections with a crude pair of pliers. Next, he poked a little at the piece with a metal rod. All of a sudden, a horse happened. It didn’t form, or take shape. It happened. Without going through any intermediate stages I could see, the amorphous lump of molten silica became an exquisitely detailed glass hose. After this the show ended, and I walked baffled and impressed back into the streets of Murano.

The shops here are filled with glassware, from utilitarian cups, glasses and prisms to chandeliers, fine china, and multi-colored sculptures that belong in a museum. The price tags are similarly distributed, from affordable and cheap souvenirs to shops catering to collectors of beautiful glassware. Since I’m rather attracted to shiny, colorful objects, my wallet was a great deal thinner by the time we left than it was at the start of the day.

We concluded the day with a night trip to Lido, another of Venice’s notable islands and home apparently to a world-famous resort. I can now technically say that I’ve walked the beaches of Lido, although the night was overcast and I only knew we had reached the sea when my feet were suddenly underwater. The view is probably wonderful when everything isn’t inky black. One surprising feature of this island was the presence of cars. After spending two days in Venice I had forgotten about these loud, polluting beasts that race up and down city streets at top speed. Considering that this place catered to the wealthy bourgeoisie I had expected that cars would be even less welcome here than on the mainland. Lacking canals, however, I suppose that automobiles are an unfortunate necessity.