Lavinia in Venice by Alexandrine Orff

9th November 2022

Lavinia had just lost her husband. Yet here she was, sitting at a bar by the edge of one of the smaller canals in Venice, absorbed by the comings and goings. The sun was slanting across the cobbled pavement and she was enjoying a chilled glass of local Soave wine.

“Signora” the waiter had said with a warm smile, “you need some tiny plates of food, cicchetti – we pronounce them chick-etty”. She had delighted in rolling that new word around her mouth.

The plates were delivered to her with great care, set down on the rickety table, a napkin hurriedly stuffed under the shorter leg to keep the table level. Tomatoes, courgettes and something fishy. Was that a fish head on toast, inviting her to eat it? Would she be British about this or do as the locals do? She popped the little morsel into her mouth and shut her eyes, thinking that doing so might banish the reality of the dish. It didn’t and it was delicious.

She looked up, and there, beyond two small bridges, at the end of the canal, was one of those big cruise ships that dwarfed the surrounding buildings. Momentarily she was mesmerised by the huge, alien intrusion, she couldn’t think where she was. It was gliding past in a stately but oh so chilling fashion. What a contrast, all that iron and glass, and all these dainty Venetian buildings, gently rocking on their wooden foundations.

The journey to Venice had taken a full day, flying from London to Milan and then on by train. The arrival at Santa Lucia Station had felt like a gentle immersion into this beautiful city and a fitting way to enter. She was glad that she had vetoed arriving by teetering ship with 3000 other passengers, it would have felt too much, too overwhelming.

It was early Summer and the crowds hadn’t yet arrived. The waiter came and sat with her briefly, asking where she was from, smiling at her attempts to speak Italian. Her recently acquired phrase of Grazie mille – thank you so much – made his eyes twinkle. Just a few words went a long way. “Your eyes light up when you smile” said the waiter. Oh, these Italians, they are charming, she thought; dropping compliments seemed to come so naturally. She could tell that it was just his way. She thanked him, paid, and set off at a leisurely pace, away from the massive ship.

She turned left, not that she knew where she was going. Part of the pleasure of being in Venice was to just wander. You could never really get lost, you would always pop up at a recognisable landmark.

She took a right and found a sun trap in a tiny square. A small dog was trotting from tree to tree and then disappeared up a set of stones steps and through a small archway. She sat on a bench and watched a man speaking earnestly into his phone. He could be the Venetian detective – Guido Brunetti – who featured in a novel she had read just before coming to the Lagoon City. She wished she could write a book and capture all the sounds and sights that were assailing her, she had such a desire to transpose the wonderful feeling of utter contentment into a beautiful narrative.

She looked up and the birds were wheeling and dipping against a dark blue sky, dodging telephone lines suspended at arbitrary angles. Her dress was beginning to cling, so she got up. She roughly knew the direction of the rental apartment and was looking for the emerald green wooden door, set back, tucked down an alley. A sheet of newspaper rose in the slipstream of warm air and pirouetted across the canal before finally settling and gently turning on the surface of the water. Two small children ran past her and she had a momentary vision of a red coat – she had after all seen the film ‘Don’t Look Now’, which had brought the darker, seamier side of the city to life. That was the polar opposite of her experience.

She found the steps to the apartment and climbed them, savouring their individual unevenness. She opened the front door. Framed in the window, against the dropping sun, was James.

“Lavinia! Have you had a lovely few hours? I got lost in the fish market, there are so many fish I have never seen before. Look at what I am preparing”. He pointed with the tip of his knife to a selection of small bites.

“I know what they are” said Lavinia enthusiastically, “they are cicchetti, pronounced chick-etty and they look delicious, my darling”. They smiled at one another and he poured out 2 glasses of Garganega wine. Cheers. Saluti.

Join TripFiction on Social Media

Twitter (@TripFiction), Facebook (@TripFiction.Literarywanderlust), YouTube (TripFiction #Literarywanderlust), Instagram (@TripFiction) and Pinterest (@TripFiction)

Subscribe to future blog posts