John's place

We recently travelled to Venice in Italy. It is a truly magical city.

We travelled there from Florence and we travelled by train.

Here are a couple of things no-one told us about Venice:

First, even in late October, there are huge queues to get in to St Mark’s Basilica. In fact the queues were so long on the three times we tried to get in that we gave up. But if you get a Museum Pass you can see the Doge’s Palace and the Correr Museum, both of which are near the basilica, and both of which are mindblowing. The Doge’s Palace backs on to the basilica so you can see more of the outside of the basilica from the courtyard of the palace. The interior is totally overwhelming. The Correr Museum is in a building that has been used as a palace by royalty. It is well worth a visit but seems to be much less of a ‘must see’ for most people.

Second, yes it is easy to get lost in the city’s maze of small streets and alleyways, dead ends and canals. But that’s really no hassle. The city administration has put up a number of signs on houses and shops in the street maze with the directions of the major attractions: per S. Marco and per Rialto, for example. So you can find your way to the the major iconic places and if you know where you are going to in relation to that icon you are home. That was how we always managed to get back to out hotel, which was not far from the Rialto Bridge.

Third, everyone mentions the canals and their bridges but no-one makes it clear that the the bridges are all designed for foot traffic only and have numerous stairs.  It’s no fun dragging a suitcase, even one on wheels, up and over those bridges. At the railway station, and scattered about in the city, you will find porters with specially designed carts (two large wheels at the back, handles at the back, and two small protruding wheels at the front) that can manouever over the steps. We stuck to pulling our own, so crossing the bridges and steps is eminently possible (but we know for a fact that there were six bridges to cross between the railway station and the hotel; and forget about taking anything on wheels over the Rialto Bridge).

And last, there are lots of interesting places on the mainland outside Venice itself that are easily accessible by train. Because I’m an urban planner we travelled to see Palmanova, a planned town started in 1593, as a frontier fort and trading post by the Venetian Republic. We also went by train to the delightful, very pretty, and quite peaceful city of Treviso, northeast of Venice.

Hi,

This blog combines an interest in things to do with cities with an interest in creative writing.

In Australia, where I live, natural hazards have a huge affect on cities and towns. The recent news tells me that California and Greece also suffer from the spectacular disasters we call “bushfires” (“wildfires” in the US). But there are also storms, cyclones, floods, earthquakes and the like. My frustration as a retired urban planner is that people don’t seem to learn. This frustration is made worse by the way that people who can make money out of selling property, or who have the influence to sway local decision-makers, can take advantage of ignorance. For example, a “1 in 100 flood” does not mean if it flooded this year you can expect to be safe for the next 99 years. It means in every single year there is a 1 percent chance that there will be a serious flood. Some people falsely promise safety to line their pockets.

So I wrote a poem about “The Feasting Spirits of the Land”. Another version of the poem won third prize in the the Sutherland Shire Literary Competition earlier this year, something I’m very proud of. Enjoy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Feasting Spirits of the Land

When outflung arm extols the blue-grey haze

extending from house to far bush-clad slope;

when a grey-hearted townie trades his ways,

and ‘midst tumbled trees lays out his fresh hope;

when each avaricious tycoon surveys

bush patches seeking exploitable scope;

then the Spirit of Bushfires licks dry lips,

recalling the tang of charred dry gum tips,

reminded of fire-feasts, wind-gusted trips.

And waits!

A dishonest developer deceives

officials that her swampy land is dry,

or that small fixes, she truly believes,

will divert floodwaters to creeks nearby.

Or a clear past mistake duly receives

permit for a dead home rebuilt. Oh, why?

The River Flood Spirit flaunts its delight,

its shifting wet shape concealing its might.

Savouring swirling mud, dark as midnight,

It waits!

When unsightly mangroves are trimly shaped

to form elite special coastal havens;

when ancient front dunes are flattened and draped

with tawdry icons, flocked like ravens,

so mimicking myriad sweet places raped

by theatrical piles from design mavens.

Now the Storm Spirit licks its salty bones,

and tastes again the wave-washed wind-flecked foam.

Its bright eyes reflect dejected drowned homes.

And it waits!

When each catastrophe brings an inquest

with no lessons learned from pasts soon forgot;

when recov’ry means but shunning the best

and putting back only what they had got.

Victims forget, so new people are blessed

with ignorance of the pain that’s their lot.

While greed is praised, and riches build power,

the Spirits know all is theirs to devour;

their feasting is sure, for soon comes their hour.

So they wait!

4th August, 2018

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My city

(With apologies to the homesick Dorothea Mackellar, who in 1908, while living in the UK, published a heartfelt poem about her love of the the Australian outback, a poem now called “My Country”. She loved a ‘sunburnt country, a land of sweeping plains’. I love cities.)

An origin myth of bold settlers

Droving slowly ‘cross sun-burnt plains,

Fighting fires and floods and famine

Runs through our country’s veins.

Strong love of epic distance,

Dry rivers and bush-blued skies.

I know, but cannot share it,

My heart lies otherwise.

I love the urbane city,

Its buzz and power mains,

Inventive arts and civics;

Its history and good drains.

I love the clean city water,

I love free art galleries.

Our cities embrace and support us:

The city life for me!

The seduction of hidden laneways,

Mysteries behind iron lace;

The tales layered in buildings

Tell of heroes and common-place.

Lush green amongst the structures

With parks and squares and malls

Where friends will meet, and chatter,

And new prospects open for all.

Soul of my heart is the city!

But pity the poor and the stranger

When lost in the maze of new streets,

And shadows flicker with danger.

But then bystanders give direction,

And trust overwhelms growing fear.

Surroundings take on a new meaning

As familiar and novel are shared.

Soul of my heart is the city!

Green suburbs their families enfold.

For crush and cars and litter

It pays us back manyfold.

Grand places and quiet oases

Accessed by car, bus or train.

Our cities keep on giving succour

The longer we choose to remain.

Select shops and cute cafes,

Old books and new indie bands.

Rewards from many fresh cultures,

Joyous joining of hearts and of hands.

Though Earth holds many splendours

And even wide spaces may please,

I know that I love city offerings

For that’s where I’m truly at peace.

John Minnery

(Published in “Australian Planner”, 29 June, 2017 —

http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/07293682.2017.1345964 )

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