A City on Pretty Waters by Parishka Gupta


I travel to settle down the pandemoniums of life raging inside me. These new places, the new people there, new tastes greeting my tongue; they intrigue me to a crazy level. I am so very fascinated by this therapy. And obviously, I am so indefinitely attached to travelling that my heart does not stop hammering against my chest until I put down my story on a piece of paper. So here I have an unprecedented experience of mine in the city which has a strong affinity for intricate romance--Venice.

The beauty of Venice mainly lies in its exiguity. The overweening rows of boats brightly splashed with colours bob gently on the lulled waters of Venice tugs a grin on my face. The cobblestoned streets and three-storeyed buildings dipped in the lightest shade of ochre push its spectators back into the flourishing and froward period of Renaissance.
Rediscovering hidden stories is an activity which I perform for the pleasure. With the convoluted history of Italia, what could be better than touring the essence of this place, the Renaissance?
 
Flip the pages of the record of people whose will to change the perspective of art was ablaze, and its heat was tangible enough for entire Europe during the era of the Renaissance. Pay a visit to the museum of the famous Leonardo Da Vinci, from whose mind had flown absolutely ingenious models of flying machines; whose deft hands gave us the well-known face; the veiled countenance of Mona Lisa. Her ethereal features and the sweet smile has won kudos from great artists of today and will continue to do so henceforth.

We were not fortunate enough to lay our eyes upon his greatest of works, but, standing on the porch of the house of Vinci's innovative collection, we could still feel the fire of his fabrications and his heart’s greatest desire to make them a reality.

On one pleasant morning, when the day got a bit lazier, we set off for the St. Mark Square, or the Piazza San Marco.
This place is exhilarating. The friendliest pigeons of the world flock this place. These are no ordinary pigeons, let me remind you. Stretch out your arm in front of you. Wait for a moment or two and behold the fascinating sight of a beautiful pigeon land on your arm and dig its little claws in your skin. Don't wince, for it might intimidate the little bird. If you think pigeons aren't very fond of you, stretch out your arm again, but this time, put some food spread on your arm. The light pecks you feel on your skin are very enjoyable indeed. If they do not come to you, don't be jealous. You just weren't the pigeons' type!

 
CITY OF GLASS

Murano is highly peremptory but is a midget part of Italy. It is the womb of, probably, the best glass structures in this whole wide world. The beauty of glass and colours are well comprehended by the most placid demeanours. It opens the artist's eye in every human. The art of casting glass into ingenious and intricate charm seems to be pure legerdemain sometimes.
 
We watched raptly as an old man with white hair assiduously took out a brightly glowing ball of molten glass from the blazing furnace onto a long pipe. It was almost as though he had command over the orb. He blew into the pipe and the orb swelled up. He blew into it again and all of a sudden the orb was splashed with a bright, swirling crimson. In a few minutes, a bonny glass vase sat before us.
 
An even more impressive and laudable display was on the streets of Murano. It leaves all its spectators speechless. Glass can be made into seriously anything. From huge balls and tremendous structures with tentacles to teeny-tiny cats which can be no bigger than the size of a baby's finger. We satisfied our frissons that had bubbled up in all the glass watching by buying a family of blue cats. Today, they sit in my collection from around the world; a perfect reminiscent of terrific artists who befriended a substance whose man-made curves are known better by its sharpness--glass.

 
CITY OF MANY COLOURS

After spending the first half of the day with glass and its wonders, it was time for us to treat our eyes with something a bit more awe-inspiring and enthralling. Our next destination was a half an hour boat ride from Murano. As we bid goodbye to the sharp edges of the glass, what was coming next was something soft, restful and a sight for sore eyes.
 
Burano is a freshly bought unused colour palette. On first sight, one might think the city to be a victim of the outrage of the goddess Iris, who in a fit of rage, hurled all the pretty colours of her rainbow at the city. Petit three-storeyed buildings are neatly lined in a row and coloured with the loveliest shades of green, yellow, red, blue and other pretty colours. Well-trimmed potted plants bedecked the balconies; I almost envisaged lovely women waving at us, their laughter as soft as tinkling bells. The boats there jibe beautifully. As if not wanting to be left out, they were also splashed with the same style of colours.

The street life is as lively as ever. The open restaurants are found every now and then. Fish is a speciality of Venice and is relished by all Venetians, and this preference has gone out of Venice with the flow of the water and reached its neighbours. Locals here will give a beautiful description of the taste of fish; they sympathize all the vegetarians on earth as they do not have the pleasure to eat fish. If you have a fable for seafood, this is probably one of the places on earth that serve quality with love.

Remember, drink in all of Venice’s quintessence, and you will never complain about not experiencing quality. Ever again.