An anonymous wanderer

Whenever I step out of a train station, a busy, noisy street welcomes me. Expecting the same I drag my luggage out of Venezia station in a chilly December morning. To my utter surprise, there is no crowd, no car, and no busy street full of serious faced people.

Instead, there is water. Malachite-green, quiet, lazy waves whisper in my ears- “Welcome to Venice!”

I take a deep breath and the aroma of Italian coffee trickle my nostrils. Who can say no to that? Following the smell, I discover myself at the counter of a barista. While the young barista is busy making latte, I take a quick glimpse of his thin lips..gosh..Italian men are handsome indeed! As I sip my latte, I wonder what to do the whole day.

I was on my way to Geneva for a conference and my speech was still half baked. But who knew my mentor was coming to Venice from USA! So I decided to take a detour and meet him. In a rush I end up arriving in this city 8 hours before he arrives. My rational mind keeps saying, “Check in somewhere with a decent wi-fi and open Microsoft Powerpoint.” But a faint voice was pleading within me. Finally I decide to walk- along the canals of Venice.

While walking I watch everything with a childlike wonder. The souvenir sellers selling colorful Venetian mask s, gondolas carrying newly married couples, tourists feeding pigeons and taking selfies. I stop at a small restaurant and order a pizza Roma. There’s an old man sitting across the table, he smiles and says something in Italian. I smile back and say, “I speak only English”. Then the most amusing conversation begins- a combo of English, Italian, hand gestures and smartphone screens.

“I’m from Bangladesh. It’s beside India.”

“Yes India! I know India!”

“Venice is such a small city. There are 20 million people in my city, Dhaka.”

“No no…You lie! 20 million? I can check! I check now! (Brings out his phone)Yes you right! B-a-n-g-l-a-d-e-s-h- Many people small country. Italy- not many people.”

“I’m a student. What do you do?”

“Artist. I paint. Portraits. What? You no trust me? You have paper?”

“Haha..Take my notepad.”

His hand starts moving on my notepad like a pro. Then he holds it wide open, in front of my wider eyes. There’s a small portrait. 10 minutes of rough sketching and now I see myself, lying beside ugly presentation notes. I just got my first portrait from a stranger in Venice. I always dreamt of being a wanderer but never dared to do so. Looking at the portrait I realize-

I have to be a wanderer.