quale uomo rosso?
it feels normal again here. i feel right at home.
it's a strange thing to say: venice is like no other city on earth. But the people are the thing. There was always this divide in the east. Even in Ljubljana, the most westerly point (before venice) of my trip, and a mere 4 hours on the train from here, there are certain things that divide they the people and me, the tourist.
crossing the road for a start.
Everywhere, from Estonia to Slovenia on my trip they obey the red man. It doesn't matter if the road is clear. It does not matter if the road has been clear for 10 minutes. It does not matter if the tumbleweed blows past. It probably doesn't even matter if the road is closed for maintenance. They will not cross the road when the man is red. I find this bewildering. It's not so much that the other side of the road is a promised land that must be reached as soon as possible, just that whilst you stand still waiting for an electronic circuit to give you permission to cross the empty tarmac, you are wasting your life. Why wouldn't you feel the urge to cross?
Also, I think it is the Londoner in me. A red light awakens the competitive spirit: when the lights go green it's GO! and the race begins. Got to get ahead of the other rats in this race. They might slow me down, and where I'm going is ever so important :)
The italians are like me; they would just cross. quale uomo rosso? I guess the comparison is a little unfair, after all in venice there are no roads (at least not here in the thick of the waterways).
The funny thing is, there's a side effect to this disconnect I never would have predicted in advance. Guilt. A lady waits patiently for the red man. Enter me, stage left. I assess the empty road. I cross, doing some left/right checks while I am crossing. My peripheral vision sees the lady I left behind. She doesn't know what to do. Does she cross too? But the man is red! No she cannot cross! But I have crossed, it must be ok!??!! My actions have left her so confused she might explode. And it is all my fault: I have made her explode, look stupid, be terminally confused, whatever. The red man stares at me with stern affrontage, and I feel guilty for crossing the empty road wilderness, with all it's tumbleweed.
it's a strange thing to say: venice is like no other city on earth. But the people are the thing. There was always this divide in the east. Even in Ljubljana, the most westerly point (before venice) of my trip, and a mere 4 hours on the train from here, there are certain things that divide they the people and me, the tourist.
crossing the road for a start.
Everywhere, from Estonia to Slovenia on my trip they obey the red man. It doesn't matter if the road is clear. It does not matter if the road has been clear for 10 minutes. It does not matter if the tumbleweed blows past. It probably doesn't even matter if the road is closed for maintenance. They will not cross the road when the man is red. I find this bewildering. It's not so much that the other side of the road is a promised land that must be reached as soon as possible, just that whilst you stand still waiting for an electronic circuit to give you permission to cross the empty tarmac, you are wasting your life. Why wouldn't you feel the urge to cross?
Also, I think it is the Londoner in me. A red light awakens the competitive spirit: when the lights go green it's GO! and the race begins. Got to get ahead of the other rats in this race. They might slow me down, and where I'm going is ever so important :)
The italians are like me; they would just cross. quale uomo rosso? I guess the comparison is a little unfair, after all in venice there are no roads (at least not here in the thick of the waterways).
The funny thing is, there's a side effect to this disconnect I never would have predicted in advance. Guilt. A lady waits patiently for the red man. Enter me, stage left. I assess the empty road. I cross, doing some left/right checks while I am crossing. My peripheral vision sees the lady I left behind. She doesn't know what to do. Does she cross too? But the man is red! No she cannot cross! But I have crossed, it must be ok!??!! My actions have left her so confused she might explode. And it is all my fault: I have made her explode, look stupid, be terminally confused, whatever. The red man stares at me with stern affrontage, and I feel guilty for crossing the empty road wilderness, with all it's tumbleweed.
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