Venice: Love Thy Neighbor
May 3rd, 2012I knew I had chosen the right place to live when I saw Elvis, or was it Liberace, at my corner grocery store–Billa. Cloaked in a black cape, a jeweled t-shirt glimmering underneath, he waited patiently in the checkout line. His jet-black hair, draped to his shoulders, hinted at youth; however, his aggressively receding hairline told a truer story of his age. Venetians in conservative wool suits greeted him warmly, inquiring about his day with little notice of his large rhinestone-studded sunglasses or dangling gold chains. He was one of them, a fellow member of my new hood—Caneregio.
There’s nothing I like more than eccentric individuals, people who move to the beat of a different drummer, or better yet, their own forty-piece orchestra. Venice is full of them, or so I have read, and I plan to befriend a few before the end of spring. Elverace is high on my list.
