Venice at Carnivale [Extended]

The following is an expounded text from one of my former posts:


Shoving, pushing, tripping among a myriad of masked faces filling constricted streets and arched canal bridges. Antique buildings rise from cobblestones and hem in the traffic jam of vibrant clothes and merry voices. My body together with a million more stack and pile forming chokepoint damns in a city bursting at the seams, ready to implode from the inner pressure of so many people filling such little space. Such is Venice, Italy in March and such is Carnivale, the word’s most renowned masquerade party. I spent two days in this city turned circus drinking, eating, soaking up ‘La Dolce Vita’ in age old Italian fashion. For me it was impossible to separate the city from the festivity because they appeared to me as one. The costume adorning, street performing masses lived Carnivale aloud every moment I witnessed, and I lived with them.

Carnivale is the event and Venice the venue but the people are what bring the weekend to life. While I was there, I could feel their energy pulsated through the city. I felt the hum of the crowd from where I stood on the crest of the entry bridge to the city. I gazed down into the mobs of people rushing in and out of the center and thought of the body’s cardiovascular system. People united in their experience of Carnivale with their costumes, masks, and songs where the lifeblood of the party. Saint Mark’s Square was the heart through which all the people circulated, going in and out, to and fro. The intricate labyrinth of narrow streets and winding canals became the veins and arties through which the surging current flowed. Wherever the current went it brought vitality, even to the most quiet, numb regions. One moment I was watching safely from the bridge, the next I plunged head first into the swollen stream of people. Submerged in the rush, my body sparked, electric and alive. I laughed, cheered, and danced not because I felt like it but because I was infected. No one asked me nor did I inquire. With no choice in the matter, I simply let go and felt my blood grow hot and boil from the charge sprinting in my veins. Excitement shot through my limbs and exploded from my mouth in song and laughter because that was the only place it could escape.

I wore my mask black, white, and gold always pulled closely over my face. The disguise was not to be lifted. From behind it I could watch and take in Carnivale unfiltered. You see everyone wore a mask with the inner desire to live, if only for one weekend, uncensored. That is the secret of Carnivale. With inhibitions removed the world looks, tastes, and smells all the sweeter. My mask afforded me the richest experiences possible including the most genuine conversation with a stranger I have ever had. Stripped of pretence we simply reveled in our party relationship injected with mystery. Sure I was speaking in broken elementary Italian to a native speaker, but with my mask on I burst into a fountain of chatter unchecked and unruly. I did not think of my appearance so my experience was painted by the real energy and beauty around me rather than my diluted perception of it. When the focus is removed from your insecurities it is truly incredible how much brighter the world around becomes. My experience of Venice at Carnivale was so exciting and memorable solely because of the sheer mystery and energy that originates from thousands of people embracing this freedom reality all at one time. That is the source of the infection. Venice is unique and timeless in itself, but Venice at Carnivale transforms into something totally different. Contagiously, the very streets, buildings and canals brim with party delight and seem to wear the colorful people that cover them as their own festive costumes. I have never seen anything to compare it to. There is for me no urban occasion to match.