I never thought I could be so grateful
for a volcanic eruption.
As I headed to the airport that
April morning in the back of a waterbus, I thought I was watching the Floating
City disappear from my sight for the last time. But when I walked into the
Venice Marco Polo Airport, the bright red words CANCELLED flashed across the
screen for every flight. The recent
eruption of a volcano in Iceland a
few days earlier had caused an enormous ash cloud that now shut down airports
throughout Europe.
Panic set in for almost everyone around me as they furiously typed
out S.O.S. messages on their cell phones. But a sense of tranquility and
peacefulness fell over me as I came to my own realization: I was stuck. And I
wasn’t just stuck anywhere. I was stuck in Venice, Italy of all places. So as I
headed back into the city, I vowed to make the most out of my unexpected second
chance and find out the true reasons why I was so entranced by the city.
It was like I was experiencing an
entirely different place the second time around. I stopped looking at the obvious, and started
noticing what truly made this city unique. It wasn’t the gelato shops on every
corner or the gondoliers in their black and white striped shirts. It wasn’t the
quaint hotels or birds flocking to the hands of excited travelers bearing
crumbs in St. Mark’s Square. It wasn’t
even the breathtaking architecture or the view standing on the famous Rialto
Bridge.
To me, Venice was now the bright
yellow house that demanded your attention as you walked down the narrow
cobblestone streets. It was the passion
in the gondolier’s eyes and words as he spoke about the history of his beloved
city. It was the mesmerizing music that
came from the man sitting on a broken wooden stool on an isolated street
playing his accordion for no one but himself.
Venice was
watching the sun hit St. Mark’s Church at the perfect moment, knowing that I
could capture the moment with nothing more than my memory. It was
the glassblower who was barely able to stand up from old age perfecting his
intricate vase with bold determination in his eyes. It was intentionally trying to get lost in the
maze of intertwining streets, only to realize that it was utterly impossible to
do so. Venice was listening to the silence of the night, with only the sound of
the waves brushing against the isolated gondolas.
That
volcano gave me something I hadn’t anticipated when I first arrived in Venice:
a second chance. A chance to find the true passion in Venice that is hidden from
view at first glance. As everyone scowled at the volcano and massive airport
shut down later that day, I just smiled and secretly thanked it for opening my
eyes to what I would have never known existed.
