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Notturno Veneziano

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In the old Teatro del Ridotto there is a great commotion. Stage-hands, technicians, electricians, everyone is busy fixing things. The architect shows me the drawings for the temporary scenery. They will only erect the set here that will be used for the scenes in which I shall be immediately involved. This studio theatre has just the right dimensions, this will be my little kingdom. My other scenes, which will involve dances with many other performers, will be set up in the theatre at the Fondamenta Nuove, which has a large stage and an immense auditorium, but it is bare and is not used for such shows. Still, it will only be different from this in that the parts set up here will have to be adjusted to allow sufficient space for the corps de ballet, as will actually be the case in the final staging.

The Teatro del Ridotto is ancient, it dates back to before 1700, has been altered several times, and was abandoned in the middle of the last century when a law was introduced that required the closure of houses of ill repute. The Ridotto was in fact a casino where people gambled, but customers could meet young women, it was a 'maison close' (upmarket brothel). The stage was used to put on licentious shows to entertain the gamblers and those of the 'maison'. The famous Giacomo Casanova visited here, too, and immense fortunes changed hands - you could enter poor and come out rich, but most of the time those who entered rich came out desperate, not a few were suicides. A place believed by many to be cursed, even today one can imagine shadowy spectres, cruel and vindictive. But for now it is just a cold place, not very cheerful, full of débris. The ‘dressing rooms’ will actually be just a single room behind the present stage, because the rest of the building, structurally separate from the theatre, was acquired by a new luxury hotel built not so many years ago to restore a prestigious, historic art gallery - many of the paintings that were exhibited there are now part of the décor of the grand hotel.

To keep costs down, the architect is thinking of demolishing the stage, the wings, the proscenium, and all the rows of seats, and, since there is no space for the orchestra, the music, recorded at La Fenice, will be played back on a system of high-quality speakers, legendary Klipsch ‘corner-horns’. The lighting will be mounted on a gantry that will reproduce the exact final position of the stage lights, as well as allowing experimentation with possible variations. The heating of the room, to remove all traces of damp from the environment, will be achieved by using at least two air heaters and dehumidifiers, as the young architect explains to me.

On my entrance, many of the workers have stopped, following with their eyes my agile movements as I carry out my inspection in the company of the set designer. I hear someone whispering to his neighbor that I am the prima ballerina, my fame is already taking off! Within a few days this little theatre will be ready for rehearsals.

So, la prima ballerina is here, the theatre with its scenery will soon be ready, but the choreographer and the lead male dancer are missing. I hope that he is a real male, with muscles of steel and unmissable assets, not some fag pumped up with pride and anabolics, with a penis as soft as a bletted fig.

Time flies. As the young architect and I leave the theatre to make our way to La Fenice, we look in each other’s eyes, we're accomplices - today is Mardi Gras, let's go to St. Mark's Square. We turn left towards the Riva degli Schiavoni, turn off at the Ospedale della Pietà. At a stand displaying masks, I choose one of red lace, very sexy, the architect picks a 'medico della peste' (plague doctor) with a long beak like a toucan. To speak to me he has to keep turned sideways, otherwise he risks hitting me with his beak. Tourists are flocking to the embankment in front of the Palazzo Ducale, it will be difficult to cross the square, I keep myself close to him with my arm round his shoulders, so as not to get lost in the crowd.
 
'You’re a strange doctor, a doctor with plans rolled up under your arm! Now the doctors want to be architects?’

'But you’re beautiful with that red lace mask.' He squeezes my shoulders more tightly. I laugh at the strange voice that seems to come out of a shoebox, echoing down the long beak.

‘Let's eat something here, it's too late for us to get to the cafe in time .'

'What will you have? I’d like two sweet apple fritters.’

'Stay close while I buy them, otherwise you’re so beautiful someone will take you away !'

He’s nice and thoughtful, this young architect, we shall have to work in harmony for a while in these coming days. I lean on a column of the arcade near the bell tower munching my pancakes while he fiddles with his beak.

I am reminded of our mischief on Sunday when, Baba and me, we walked halfway across the Piazza with our mantles open in front, naked down below. If he knew, who knows what he would think of me? He seems to me a very respectable boy. And Vio? He’d have burst with jealousy! Who knows where he is now? He could be here, a few steps away...

A fiddler approaches, seeing us together he immediately starts up a grinding serenade, followed by another who appears out of nowhere and plays even more out of tune, and completely out of time.

'You two certainly haven’t studied at the Conservatorio Benedetto Marcello! And don’t you start 'O Sole Mio’, we aren’t Japanese tourists!'

They leave us, they’ve landed on the wrong target.

Municipal workers are setting up walkways, high water is expected again when the tide rises. It will spoil the party on the last day of Carnival, yet Venice is magical at night when there is high water and the square and the streets are flooded.

We spend just a couple of hours checking the drawings on a table in the foyer of La Fenice. Then I go to get my wellies out of my locker to go outside, Vio is already waiting for me.
 
With many many thanks to l'bogo and Eulalia, who make all this possible... :)

_____________________________________________________

Tuesday evening

Tonight we’ll stay in Venice, it's such a magical night. Vio has reserved a table at a well-known restaurant, he wants us to celebrate St. Valentine’s Day in this way a day early - he doesn’t want to celebrate it on Ash Wednesday, that would bring bad luck according to him. We shall spend the night in a small apartment that he owns, near the family home he has leased to the Chinese restaurant owner.

'Hello Vio, you’re already here!'

'Hi ... So, who’s the "plague doctor" who was with you today?'

'Hey Vio, were you spying on me? He was the set designer, we’d been at the Teatro del Ridotto, we’ll be doing the rehearsals for the ballet there.'

'But you stayed in the Piazza...'

'It's Carnival, Vio ... Oh come on, Vio, don’t be jealous - we didn’t do anything wrong, okay?'

'Well... but you ... but you ... I ... I love you ... I ... I ... I want to marry you ...'

'Vio! What are you saying? We aren’t even engaged !'

I’m knocked back, gobsmacked, this declaration has caught me unprepared - I really did not expect it. I thought we’d be good friends, but I wasn’t thinking about marriage, that’s not on my radar, I'm still too young...

'We are now – engaged!'

He pulls out from his pocket a small box: Oreficeria Antiquaria dei Dogi, Rialto.

I just stand holding the box, I’m winded, my hand is trembling...

'Open it.'

'Let's go to the restaurant first, it’s starting to rain.'

The waiter, in a white linen jacket and black silk bow tie, bends in an exaggerated bow, then takes us to our reserved table, the candle is alight on its candlestick, there’s a bunch of white roses.

I have a sensation of vertigo, I gladly accept the gesture of the waiter who moves the chair to accommodate me. The situation is absurd, I'm dressed like I’m going fishing in the lagoon, with rubber boots, pants rolled up, and here I am in one of the most prestigious restaurants in Venice - with a little box in my hand that, for sure, contains a precious ring. And I don’t know what to do!

Vio ... Vio ... Whatever’s got into your head? Without talking about it first... how can I accept?'

'As always. You always pull back, always find an excuse ...'

I can’t simply disappoint him. I'll open the box, I'll accept the ring, but we'll talk about marriage later - I can always give it back to him.

I open it. I’m dazzled as if blinded by a searchlight, an impossible brightness, a stone of a size never seen - for a girl like me! A beautiful diamond, surrounded by a crown of smaller diamonds, I cannot count them.

'Are you crazy, Vio? It’s worth a fortune (patrimonio)... '

'It’s worth a wedding (matrimonio)...'

He’s not wrong, any woman would surely surrender instantly... But I'm tormented, I know I don’t love him, I ought to refuse, I should say I cannot, or I do not want to. But Vio is alone, he’s got no-one else, for him I am his only hope, his future...

He approaches me, takes my trembling hand, and puts on my ring. I'm hooked now. He kisses me on my lips, I don’t resist.

The menu for this dinner is the most obvious anyone could think of: lobster, avocado salad, and ... I don’t swallow a single bite. On the other hand, the wine is delicious, I gulp it down to ‘lubricate’ the fix I’ve got myself into...

More stunned by the situation than by the wine, I let myself be led through the flooded streets, wandering through this magical Venice to the wedding bed. At least I'm not a virgin any more...
 
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