hellovenezia

A light-hearted tour looking for the curiosities in Venice’s layout associated with its physical nature.

A book at the end of the nineteenth century listed 178 bell towers in Venice. Some of these are Roman style, namely resting on the roof, others succeed in being called bell towers but are so small that they only contain a single and often tiny bell.
Many, however, are towers in the true sense of the word, going from the 99 metres of the campanile of St. Mark, the highest in Venice and the third highest in Italy after the Torrazzo in Cremona, 111 metres, and the Torre del Mangia at Siena, 102 metres, to the few dozen metres of Santa Fosca, along the Strada Nuova, probably the lowest, but sufficient and proportionate in size to its very small church, both in any event reconstructed at the end of the nineteenth century to make room for this new, spacious thoroughfare.
Apart from their devotional function, Venetian bell towers owe their fortune and their preservation to their utilisation for a twofold purpose. In some cases, if they were near the sea they were used as lighthouses to help ships pass through the mouths of the lagoon into the city, while in other cases they were used as fire alarm posts; again, if they were nearer the mainland, they served as watch towers and means whereby messages could be transmitted quickly to the nearby towns on the mainland.
In fact during the period between the 14th and 17th centuries, the time of its greatest expansion into the plain of the River Po, when the Venetian Republic’s territory extended as far as the borders with Lombardy and Romagna, the Government made provision for a system of signalling from bell towers, using torches or other luminous signs at night and often mirrors during the day to report the advance of enemy troops in occupied land or as conventional danger signals. We have to imagine a horizon clear of the deadly pall of polluting fumes that now make it substantially impossible to see the surrounding countryside beyond a certain distance. Perfect visibility is only achieved seldom nowadays, on especially windy days or after exceptional weather conditions. On days like this, we can see the Euganean Hills, the foothills of the Alps in Veneto and Trentino and the Alps themselves, looming over the city, and get an idea of how considerably different the Venetian landscape was some centuries ago and, consequently, how a luminous signal made from a tower could easily be seen many kilometres away.
Some of the bell towers listed at the end of the nineteenth century have been razed to the ground after development changes, some have fallen down, others, in danger of collapse, have been stabilised and halved in size. One of these is the tower of San Boldo in the district of Santa Croce, beautifully set in a small square with a well, the rio of the same name going round two sides and, finally, a bridge spanning the little canal.
The Tower of Pisa is famous for its Renaissance beauty but also because it leans; some Venetian bell towers also amaze the onlooker because their inclination is no less pronounced. Examples are the bell tower of the church at Burano, designed by architect Andrea Tirali towards the end of the 18th century, which is magnificent also because it is reflected in the water against the backdrop of the northern lagoon; the tower of the Greek Church and, above all, the tower of Santo Stefano, 65 metres high (near the Actv stops at Sant’Angelo and Accademia), which has a Romanesque plan with a three-arch cella and an octagonal dome, the construction of which started in 1544.

It is especially interesting to observe the technical methods used to keep the structure standing. It started leaning more heavily in the eighteenth century and has a number of reinforcing slabs and iron tie-rods at its base. After the Santo Stefano bell tower, we’ll have a short walk to the second curiosity of the day, in Campo San Luca very near St. Mark’s Square. This is one of the liveliest squares in Venice because there is a continuous stream of tourists and local inhabitants going about their business. This may be one of the ideal places for visitors, almost a Goldoni background for a chat and a good cup of coffee.
What we are searching for is the centre of the city. It’s hard to say how this “centre” was calculated: it is probably one of the long series of city legends, but this spot does exist, and it is even certified, as one might say, nobody knows at whose initiative, by a fine marble column with a Corinthian capital inside the former Tarantola bookshop. The column came to light some years ago during a thorough interior restoration after having been kept hidden for many years, probably because it had been the constant goal of a troublesome and intrusive pilgrimage on the part of persons curious to see the marvellous column.

Now what was a historic Venetian bookshop has become an interesting shop selling artistic craft products, or rather, more correctly, a centre for signed craft articles, AgoraT. What remains is round central shelving that enables all those who want to see the column close up to go round it in a circle. But remember also that AgoraT (the T stands for continuity with the former Tarantola bookshop) is an outstandingly sensitive shop in which, “… there are not many products on sale, but they are unique. A place where you can have articles designed and made to suit your wishes”.
The last curiosity of our quick visit to Venice is the narrowest lane in the city.
First, visitors should realise that Venetian street numbering is quite unique: the city is divided into six sestieri (sixths, representing districts), with house numbers rising according to the route followed by the streets, which are generally named calli, lanes, or squares, campi, of various geometrical shapes. Then, depending on whether these streets are on the waterside, whether they are broad or narrow, or whether they are the continuation of other main thoroughfares, they are called salizada, ramo, fondamenta, ruga, rio terà (this if they follow the course of canals - rio is the Venetian for canal - that have been paved over) and other names still. The only streets named via are those that were laid out in the late nineteenth or in the twentieth century. In fact there are only two of these, Via XXII Marzo near St. Mark’s and Via Garibaldi in the Castello district; the only street named strada is Strada Nova, which was opened at the end of the nineteenth century, a very long road that goes through the entire district of Cannaregio from Ponte delle Guglie to Campo Santi Apostoli.
Our curiosity impels us to see the narrowest calle in Venice. Those that suffer from claustrophobia should beware, because it is twenty metres long but only 53 cm wide breast high. It is called Calle Varisco and it is near Fondamenta Nove, Campo San Cancian to be precise: pushing by a Doric pillar at the entrance, it is really quite difficult to get in. It is a dead end but if we manage to go all along it we will come out onto the water of Rio dei Santi Apostoli.
Venetian street names are especially interesting, never casual but always with a very close connection to personages, places and situations associated with their neighbourhood.

A Venetian street may take its name from a noble palace, such as Calle di Cà Baglioni at San Cassiano or Calle della Regina, referring to Caterina Cornaro, Queen of Cyprus, near Rialto. Or Calle dei Boteri (there is more than one of these), because vintners’ barrels were made there, or Corte Cavallo at Cannaregio at the foot of the iron bridge in the Ghetto, because the equestrian monument to Bartolomeo Colleoni designed by Andrea del Verrocchio was constructed there.
Discovering the city reading the nizioleti, the street name signs painted on the walls, carefully and with a touch of curiosity may constitute a fascinating, alternative journey among the thousand and one stories that a really unique and special city like Venice can tell us.
We can get to any other point in the city rapidly on Actv circulars 41-42 and 51-52 from Fondamenta Nove.

Alessandro Rizzardini (riproduzione riservata ©)