Amidst all the buildings, there were spires rising from churches, and occasional domes punctuating the horizon. This was a city of magnificent architecture, of a grand, ornate style, and it all seemed designed to face the water. It did not merely co-exist with the water—it embraced it.
And all along it, connecting one side of the city to the other, were small, arched footbridges, steps rising up each side and a wide plateau in the middle. These were crowded with people walking up and down or just sitting on the edge, watching all the ships as they passed by.
And everywhere— everywhere —there were ships. The canals were absolutely crammed with traffic, with ships of every shape and size—so much so, that she could hardly see the water. The famous gondolas were everywhere, too, their oarsmen standing on the edge, steering them in the water. She was surprised by how long they were, some seeming to stretch nearly 30 feet. In between these were smaller ships and boats of all sorts, some for delivering food, some for taking out waste. This place was alive, bustling. She had never seen anything like it in her life.
As she surveyed the crowds, the masses of humanity, she felt a chill in her spine, as she wondered if Caleb could be among them. Could she be looking at him right now? She knew was being foolish, especially from so far away, but still, she tried to look, to scan their faces, to see if maybe, just maybe, she could spot him.
As Caitlin took in the magnitude, the immensity of the city, the thousands of people swarming in every direction, a part of her, the intellectual part, felt hopeless. She realized that this was a futile mission, that there was no possible way she could ever find Caleb among all these people. But another part of her, the part of her that believed in destiny, felt excited, felt optimistic, just knew that somehow, deep down, if Caleb were here, they would find each other.
And either way, she could not help but feel the thrill of adventure and excitement. She was traveling. Journeying around the world. About to experience a new city.
And maybe, just maybe, Caleb would be on its shores.
* * *
Caitlin filed off the boat with the hundreds of other passengers, squeezed between them as she worked her way, Rose beside her, down the steep rope ramp. It was utter chaos. By now, most, if not all, of the passengers were rowdy and drunk, and it was a free-for-all getting to the dock.
Caitlin was relieved when her feet touched the ground, and she quickly guided Rose with her away from the thick crowd, off the dock, and onto the streets of Venice.
It was overwhelming. Caitlin had hoped that once she got away from the boat, that the crowds would ease up—but that was hardly the case. There were crowds everywhere. She was getting jostled left and right.
She found herself in an enormous open square, around which were built immense buildings, all facing it. She read the sign: Piazza San Marco. St. Mark’s Square. Dominating the square was an enormous church, the Basilica di San Marco, and across from it was an immense, skinny tower, reaching hundreds of feet into the sky, The Campanile. As if on cue, the huge church bell tolled, and the sound filled the square like a bomb.
Thousands of people milled about, engaging in a dizzying array of activity. As she ventured tentatively out into the square, strangers approached her from every direction, all trying to sell their wares. They held out small, wooden dolls, brightly colored glass, flasks of wine, and most of all, masks. Everywhere she looked, there were masks. Even stranger, everywhere she looked, she was shocked to see people wearing them. The predominant mask was white, with a long, beaked nose, but there were masks of all shapes and sizes. Even stranger, many people walked about in full costume, some fully cloaked. It was as if she’d arrived in one huge Halloween party. She had no idea what the occasion was. Did people here always dress like this?
As if that were not enough, everyone seemed to be drunk, or quickly getting drunk. People laughed too loud, sang songs to themselves, jostled each other, and openly drank from jugs of wine.
There was music everywhere, every few feet another guitarist, or violinist, sitting on a crate or stool, playing away with an open hat and asking for tips.
Completing the scene were jugglers, comics, clowns, and performers of all sorts. Before her, one man juggled brightly colored balls, while another man juggled torches of fire. Caitlin stopped, in awe, watching.
She was soon jostled roughly, and turned to see a large man, dressed in a cloak and mask, drunk, stumbling, his arm around an elaborately dressed courtesan. As Caitlin watched, he reached down and grabbed her rear roughly, and she screamed with laughter.
This city was like a circus. It was the rowdiest, most chaotic place she had ever seen. She marveled that all this licentiousness could be taking place right here, in front of these churches. It was the strangest dichotomy she had ever seen. Was the city just one, endless party? Or had she arrived at some special time?
Caitlin spotted a small group of finely dressed woman cutting their way through the crowd. They were each dressed in elaborate gowns, ruffling their way, and held a small pouch to their noses as they went.
Caitlin wondered what they were holding, and at just that moment, it hit her. The stench. She had been too stunned to notice it at first, but now, as she walked, she was overwhelmed by the horrible smell of everyone and everything around her. It smelled like no one here had bathed. Ever.
And then she remembered: of course, no one had. It was 1790, after all. Plumbing hadn’t been invented yet. As the sun grew higher, and the temperature grew warmer, the stench grew even worse. Caitlin held her nose, but no matter which way she turned, she couldn’t get away from it.
That’s why those women were holding those pouches to their noses: to block out the smell.
Caitlin suddenly felt claustrophobic, and spotted what looked like a side street; she cut her way through a group of jugglers and guitar players, and as she crossed the square, she saw that there were many side streets leading in and out of the square. They were more like narrow alleyways, underneath arched buildings, and she ducked into the nearest one.
Finally, she could breathe; Rose looked relieved, too. They headed down the narrow side street, and it weaved its way left and right. The streets were so narrow, and the buildings blocked out most of the light, and she began to feel confined in this city. She stood there, debating which way to go.
She had barely ventured a few blocks, and already she felt disoriented, turned around. She had no idea where she was going, or where to look for Caleb—if he was even here. She wished she had a map—but then again, she had no money—or, at least, no real money—to pay for one.