Life is a struggle

Or so it seems in Venice where everything is an object of competition: the seats on the vaporetto, the free newspaper (2 pages of news, 8 pages of sport, 10 pages of advertising, chiefly of deeply discounted junk and pawnshops, who, for gold pay IN CASH), the lines in the supermarket. The struggle is constant and relentless. Hence the smoking; but also the premature aging: an average 40 year old Venetian looks 60. The ordinary life is hard.

My parents lived such a life. My father was under my mother’s constant verbal attack for being insufficiently “capable”, by which she meant nonsense like getting into the shorter line, or securing the better seat. I know I am not “capable” but, unlike my father, I can afford not to be. If I end up standing in line longer, well, while I do not love it, indeed find standing in lines quite stressful sometimes, I have the time to spare. And if the boat is too packed, I don’t need to take it: there are plenty of water taxis in town. A 70 euro charge may seem like a lot to some, but is much preferable to having to brave the crowds to those who can afford it.

Some people never quite figure this out. Susanna, who has had legal problems with her neighbors for years, was incensed when I suggested that she pay them off. Susanna’s rich – I’d guess they take in 20,000 a week – but could see no reason why she should pay 10 grand to make the problem go away. They take in 20 grand a week, but she cooks and does the dishes herself, the maid being, she says, too expensive. When I borrow her phone, she asks me to be brief since airtime is expensive. Susanna may be out of the ghetto, but her mind isn’t.