Understanding Venice, the City Built on Water – By Boat
Venice is an island city, built upon water, crisscrossed by canals, and surrounded by seawater, so if we wanted to get beneath the skin of the place, it made sense to get on a boat. What better way to learn about Venice and her lagoon than aboard a bragazzo, a traditional Venetian skiff, with marine scientist Luca Zaggia, who leads Context’s Science and Secrets of Venice’s Lagoon tour.
We meet Luca, a coastal oceanographer working for Venice’s Institute of Marine Science (read more about Luca here), and our skipper, Italo, at the Riva San Biagio, where we hop aboard our blue and white wooden bragazzo, with two travellers from Australia. Minutes later we’re gliding along the Rio della Tana around the fortress-like walls of the Arsenale, and Luca is pointing out damage to buildings and walls caused by the seawater, evident by the crumbling bricks and whole sections of collapsed walls.
“We lost 25cm to the sea in 100 years,” Luca says, as he points out the layers of protective white marble at the base of buildings, originally inserted to protect the bricks, vunerable to seawater, which causes them to crumble, but now mostly underwater and covered in algae. The ‘regalo’, or big ruler, as the white layer is called was also effective in keeping floors flat. I make a note to check if our palazzo has such a layer as our floors are as crooked as they must come in Venice.
We cruise into the Darsena Grande, Venice’s medieval shipyards, and by its red-brick warehouses which host the city’s Art Biennale, and, as part of the area’s revitalization, will soon host research centres (including Luca’s), restaurants, and the hi-tech computer rooms that will operate the mobile gates of the MOSE (Modulo Sperimentale Elettromeccanico) project, an controversial initiative aimed at protecting Venice from floods.
“Unfortunately the City is spending more on restoring the building damage caused by water than solving the water problems,” Luca says, pointing to new reinforced walls and paving, and shaking his head.
As we cruise out between the Arsenale’s robust walls and tower once used for building masts, passing Isola San Pietro, Luca tells us that the towers were intended to give Venice a more powerful appearance. “The Venetians were scared of a Turkish invasion,” he explains, spreading out a reproduction of an old map painted by a Turkish sailor, featuring a row of colossal defence walls in the sea, no doubt painted from his imagination, as there were never any such things. “The irony,” Luca says, “is that Venice’s greatest enemy has been the sea.”
It’s almost impossible for a sailor who doesn’t know the lagoon, its channels and the tides to sail through safely without guidance. The deep-water channels are narrow, there are many marshes and mud-flats, and in parts the shallow waters are only one-metre deep. Luca has serious concerns for the cruise ships that sail through the port on a daily basis, not only because of the environmental damage they incur, but because it would be so easy for a ship to become stranded, particularly in a strong northeasterly wind, and disaster to strike. But Venice has always made money from its port, since the time of the Crusades when ships stopped here on their way to the East. If anything, Luca tells us, the City plans to expand its port business, rather than reduce it – an idea repugnant to some Venetians who’d like to see cruise ships halted.
While it’s common to see melodromatic “Venice sinking!” stories from time to time in the media, generally after an acqua alta (high water), which mostly occurs in winter, autumn and spring, but can also occur (with less frequency) in summer, what’s of greatest concern is the pace that the water is rising and the environmental damage to the lagoon. As we learn from Luca over the course of the four hour excursion, the city’s water problems are significant and complex.
Italo takes us through a peaceful canal that slices lovely Isola le Vignole in half, where Luca tell us there is a good restaurant that only Venetians go to that we must try. (“Tell the owner that I sent you!” Italo suggests.) Once at the Lido inlet, we can see dredging and other works where a system of 78 gates is being installed as part of the MOSE project, aimed at protecting the lagoon from storm surges and high water from the Adriatic Sea. When the tide reaches more than 110 cm and up to a maximum of 3m, the mobile gates will be closed isolating the Venetian Lagoon from the Adriatic Sea. Similar work is also underway at the other two lagoon inlets of Malamocco and Chioggia, through which the tide ebbs and flows.
MOSE is just one of a number of interventions that are part of a larger integrated defence system intended to protect Venice and its lagoon environment by slowing down degradation caused by subsidence and erosion from wave motion and wash. Quays are being raised, walls around island shores are being rebuilt, marshes and mudflats are being reinforced and reconstructed, and lagoon canals and channels are being dredged. In the Porto Marghera industrial area, contaminated canals are being sealed, islands formerly used as industrial waste dumps are being revitalized, and polluted sediments are being removed.
We slow down in front of the imposing fortifications of Sant’Andrea on the island of Certosa at the Lido inlet to see the low level openings where an impressive 46 cannons once scared off any enemies, including Napoleon. Fired only twice, the result was said to sound and feel like an earthquake and look like a volcano erupting. Luca points out how much higher the water must be now, lapping into the lower part of the openings.
On our way back into the lagoon we pass some fresh wooden pilings being installed to replace old pilings being eaten by shipworms. According to Luca, (if it wasn’t for the worms) the pilings could last forever as long as the wood was beneath the mud and had no contact with oxygen, and therefore remained strong, almost petrified. Turbulence from boats compounds the problem by removing sediment and exposing the pilings. A potent bacteria had protected the wood from the pilings, the same bacteria that breaks down the untreated effluence that is discharged from Venetian buildings straight into the canals.
“Ooh!” I think as we cruise into shallow waters and come across a dozen or so people seemingly walking upon water – that’s how low the water level is here – while their friends sunbathe and snooze on their boats and dinghies nearby. Luca reveals that they’re searching for clams and razor clams, but this is nothing, he tells us – tomorrow (Sunday) there’ll be hundreds of boats here, as there are few things more typically Venetian to do on a weekend. And now it’s our turn to do as the locals do. Italo pulls out bread rolls, prosciutto and cheeses, while Luca pops open a bottle of prosecco and pours us all some sparkling wine.
Over lunch in the boat, we learn that while Venice might be sinking, it’s population is shrinking, and one of the city’s many problems as far as its water quality is concerned is a reluctance on the part of its older population to spend money on introducing septic tanks to treat water before it enters the canal.
We also learn that a high tide is expected at midnight that very night when St Marco’s is due to flood. Luca has a website he checks but locals can subscribe to a text message service that advises of tide levels. “But Venetians can smell a flood coming,” Luca tells us, “We can smell the algae in the wind and we know to take our rainboots!”
As the sky is quickly darkening to a slate grey as a storm begins to move in, we push on, passing the agricultural island of Sant’Erasmo, the former monastery island of San Francesco del Deserto, and Burano, famous for its lace, toward the tranquil island of Torcello for a bathroom stop – and to watch a local wedding as it turns out.
On our way back to Venice, Italo and Luca bring out a bottle of sweet wine and some buranelli, typical Venetian biscuits, to dip in the wine, as is the local custom. As we pass some lush marshes Luca points out the ‘sausages’ created from rolls of oyster shells that have been placed around their perimeter to protect them from the tides and the short but damaging waves of the small boats. He’s pleased to see a lot of regeneration on the marshes that form one of Europe’s largest wetland areas.
Also following old customs, our traditional boat makes a short cut straight across the shallow waters, because it’s motor is smaller and it does less damage to the lagoon – whereas the speedboats and ferries have to take a longer route between the deeper waters marked by pilings. As I watch the boats bump across the water, I now cringe, imagining the damage being done to the fragile environment.
As we cruise by the Arsenale into the canals of the Castello, one of Venice’s most authentic old neighbourhoods, Luca says, “Sometimes, I think, this is what the Venetians have always done ,since the beginning…” – since 421, to be precise, when mainland farmers fled to the lagoon’s marshy islands to escape invaders, and first began building a new home on water – “… so maybe we shouldn’t be messing with nature. Maybe we should just let nature take care of itself.”