Finding God in a Floating City - New Years in Venice
Updated: Jan 27
Wandering through Venice is like stepping into a living painting - Unknown -
The first stop on our family trip was Venice. It had long been on my dad’s bucket list, and he had always wanted to ride in a gondola. To be honest, the extent of my knowledge of this unique place came from watching The Tourist, so I was looking forward to learning more about it.
After a long journey and a delayed plane - which resulted in some frantic powerwalking through the Istanbul airport to catch our connecting flight - we finally landed at Venice Airport. We were all looking forward to a shower and clean clothes, expecting our ride to be waiting to take us to the water taxi, which would drop us at the hotel. However, after finally finding the pickup point, we waited for over an hour before our lift arrived, slowly adding layers of clothing as the cold set in. Michael was asked if he was military as he walked around in his shorts and T-shirt, which of course grew his head about two sizes. The water taxi provided a great introduction to Venice, as we all stood outside the relative warmth of the cabin, not wanting to miss a thing - our first real taste of the cold we would experience on the trip.
After a shower at the Ruzzini Palace, our hotel, we went exploring. We walked around in wide-eyed awe, trying to comprehend how this entire city could be built on water, with a foundation of wood. We nibbled on the best pizza of my life from a streetside pizzeria and washed it down with gelato, refusing to let the cold weather keep us from that creamy delight. Along the way, we came across what we initially thought was a street performance but soon realized was an animal rights protest. Within seconds, I was bombarded with questions and accusations from one of the protesters and was even called a murderer for eating meat. I walked away calmly, knowing there was no point in engaging and not wanting to ruin my day with conflict - though, as is often the case, all the best responses flooded my brain afterward. That evening, we had dinner at a lovely little restaurant on the corner near our hotel, all enjoying pasta dishes in the country renowned for them.
The following day was spent exploring as much of Venice as possible. Standing in St. Mark’s Square, I admired the unreal infrastructure around me, amazed by the time and care that went into every statue, pillar, and intricate fringe. We soon met our tour guide and the rest of the group and were handed small receivers and earphones that allowed us to hear him clearly as we moved through crowded hallways and narrow streets. Our guide was an older man with a great sense of humor and a genuine passion for Venice and its history. He led us through narrow Venetian streets, past historic shops as well as modern tourist stores, unpacking layers of history along the way.
We broke for lunch, and my family and I headed straight to a restaurant recommended by our guide, where we enjoyed fried, toasted cheese sandwiches washed down with beer. We regrouped afterward for gondola rides, ticking a major bucket-list item off my dad’s list, followed by a tour of St. Mark’s Basilica and the prison. That afternoon, we all went our separate ways. I made a beeline for a bookshop called Acqua Alta - a place I could have spent hours in if not for the crowds. I bought myself a beautiful copy of The Little Prince and then called it a day.
That evening, we visited a charming restaurant called Trattoria da Gigi, where I had possibly the best pasta dish of my life, followed by a performance by the Three Tenors at the playhouse. The show was highly impressive, although most of us spent the evening fighting to stay awake.
We had nothing booked for the following day, but it was the 31st of December, and we knew we wanted to watch the fireworks at midnight. After breakfast, Michael (my brother), Nicole (my sister), and I walked through what I consider the prettiest part of Venice on our way to the Gallerie dell’Accademia. We spent the morning admiring the hundreds of artworks - both sculptures and paintings on display. After meeting our parents for refreshments, Mike and I were tasked with securing a dinner reservation close to the fireworks. We thought we had chosen well, given its proximity, but the restaurant ended up being a major disappointment.
The fireworks, however, were breathtaking. It was clear that watching them was the thing to do in Venice on New Year’s Eve, as thousands of others had the same idea. My favorites were the ones that exploded into a massive golden circle, followed two seconds later by a second bouquet of smaller fireworks. As the show came to an end, we tried to make our way out, but the 2km walk back to the hotel still took us an hour. At one point, a group of guys decided to start the year with violence, getting into a scuffle on a bridge and nearly knocking us over in the process.
Venice was a fascinating city, brimming with life and history, and I feel incredibly blessed to have experienced it. I love seeing how lifestyles differ across countries and cultures, and while it was wonderful to witness, it also made me grateful for my home and the way I grew up. Every evening, a group of local kids would meet in the courtyard outside our hotel to play soccer. I know that’s all they know, but I couldn’t help feeling sad that they didn’t have more open space. We grew up climbing trees, making mud pies, and coming home covered in cuts and scrapes before supper. These kids don’t even have proximity to a park - only this concrete jungle. Even the dogs, of which I saw many, seemed to live most of their lives between four walls, with only occasional walks through the streets. I doubt they even know what it feels like to run at full speed through grass. I know these kids and animals know no different, but as someone who can’t imagine life without wild spaces, it left me with a heavy heart.
While wandering through the Basilica, I was once again struck by the immense effort that went into building such a place—without modern machinery, and often by people who never lived to see the fruit of their labor. I also couldn’t help but think about Jesus, and how in His 33 short years on earth, He shook the world and changed history. Born to a lowly family from Nazareth, He altered the calendar forever and inspired art like the pieces before me. I am no Catholic, but those churches left me more in love with my Jesus and deeply grateful that I am known and loved by such a God.
Comments