Petaluma High School - Trojans Yearbook (Petaluma, CA)

Page 30 text:

THE ENTERPRISE, i 2 marble steps of our hotel and were helped out over a carpeted board by the dignified portier and several assistants; then we were ushered into the lovely Hotel de V Europe, formerly an old palace and still reminiscent of other days, with its carved woodwork, inlaid floors and beautiful hang¬ ings. Venice in the day time brought a realization of our dreams. The side door of the hotel opened on what seemed to be a tiny alley, but in reality it was quite a broad avenue for Venice. A walk of a few yards brought us suddenly and unexpectedly into the square nf San Marco . Our surprise and the blaze of color that met our eyes, made us gasp. There at the end of the square stands the great church so rich in colored mosaic, all its minarets and spires and oriental trimmings glistening in the morning sun. Alongside of St. Mark’s, forming part of the piazzetta stands the Doge’s palace and at the end, near the Grand Canal are the columns of St. Mark and St. Theodore and beyond these the gleaming water. Flanking the sides of the square are the arcades with their fascinating shops with gay wares—Venetian glass, illuminated parchment, beads, laces and pictures. Our next glimpse of the piazza is in the late afternoon; the square itself is in the shadow and the tops of the buildings are bathed in the sunset lights. Now tables and chairs have been set out in the square and the best band in Italy is playing as only Italian bands can. They are Bersaglieri with uniforms of dark green and patent leather hats with a bunch of feath- 28

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THE ENTERPRISE, ’l2 had passed the ticket punchers at the gates—when, presto! We were in another world. There before us were broad marble -steps—and close to the steps were moored the waiting gondolas. When we caught our breath, we were in a gondola, our bags piled around us, floating quietly out on the dark water. We knew we were going to the Hotel de Y Europe and that was all. We were alone in a black gondola with two shadowy gondoliers quietly work¬ ing at the oars; everything was dark, the only light was a feeble one com¬ ing from the tiny oil lamp on the prow. We could not even see the faces of our gondoliers. Through the black canals we floated, seeing nothing except occasionally the outlines of buildings faintly lit up by gas lamps, hearing nothing but the gentle lap of the water and the swish of the oars, or the sudden and startling shout of one of the gondoliers when we turned a corner. After what seemed an eternity to us, really not so very longrwe sudden¬ ly saw more lights and turned into what we instinctively knew was the Grand Canal. The gondola stopped and one of the men came to us and, doffing his hat with much ceremony, he said something in Italian which we did not understand. But the gesture accompanying it, we understood easily. It is the same in every language. As -soon as we found the num¬ ber of coppers, off we started and in a few moments more, we came to the 27

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' THE ENTERPRISE, 4 2 ers rakishly set on one side. Grouped around the bandstand are crowds or people—children feeding myriads of pigeons, venders selling cornucopias, filled with corn to feed to these birds; gay, laughing, black-eyed Venetian women, their coiffures arranged with great care and their black silk shawls draped over their shoulders toning down the riotous mass of color. At the tables is seated the population of Venice enjoying its afternoon refresh¬ ment; here is a group of beautiful and well-dressed Italian girls, chaperon¬ ed by mothers or aunts, perhaps,—gaily chatting with their friends; there sit a group of gay, young cavalry officers in uniforms of Alice blue and bright green, excitedly discussing the latest war news from Tripoli. An¬ other knot of older officers stands near by, more gravely exchanging views on the same subject, no doubt. Opposite is a merry table of American girls, sipping their afternoon tea and eating those delicious Italian phun cakes. Gradually, however, it grows darker and the life and color disap¬ pear in the longer shadows. We return to the hotel to the balcony overlooking the Grand Canal. It is evening and the red sun is disappearing behind the dome of Santa Maria della Salute. Slowly the orange fades to pink and little by little the color is gone and the buildings stand out darkly against the dusky background. Now lights appear one ny one, it is very quiet, no jangling street cars, no wagons grinding over pavements; the only sounds that break the stillness are the faint ringing of distant church bells and occasionally the discord- 29