The starchy smell of bread. The savory and electrifying sensation of a cannoli. The steadfast hum of the canal.  Venice sings, dances and combines the scent of sweet desserts and mouth – watering meals. It is an experiential city, where the food, archaic buildings, distinct city buzz and interactions with locals provide a medium for the senses, ultimately creating a sound noticeably distinct from many cities I’ve encountered. I’ve gotten to immerse myself with the Venetian sound by talking to the people in Venice. These conversations have led to the incidental exploration of what it means for the English language to have pervaded global culture. What does it mean to have the ability to live in Venice without having the need to speak a slick of Italian? How can such an ability affect my cultural experiences abroad?

The Venetian Sound

Growing up in New York has allowed to me befriend New York City, where I’ve learned that the city is home to humans, dogs and cars. The humans seem rushed, the dogs are friendly and good. The cars are desperate, rushed, ironically stagnant. They yell at each other in the language of horns, and work together to mold the roads into battle scenes. The aggressive, gladiatorial behavior on the roads are such an irrevocable aspect of New York City. The long roads break the continuity of the sidewalks, and the cars unceasingly emit sound. The roads become an inevitable factor of experiencing New York, especially for pedestrians. Minneapolis sounds less distressed, but the noise of cars and trains continue to be an inextricable experiential compound. Northfield City in Rice county is much milder: the cars pretend they are cats and try to get away with the mildest of noise and perturbation. The city’s sound is characterized by slight street chatter and the hushed gargle of motorized vehicles. I won’t begin to describe New Dehli.

I’ve visited and hung around many other cities, and I have found that they all have very distinct sounds unique to the culture, speed, environment of the city. Though distinct, many share a commonality in their noise. Cars, buses, trains echo through out the cities, blending together in the background with the rest of the City’s chatter. The sound of Venice, even if there had been anticipation, is wildly surprising. Hardly any buzz, honk, gargle of a car, train or bus. Of course, if you are at one of the few bus stops in the outskirts of venice or at the Santa Lucia train station, you’ll encounter the shared city noise. But for the large majority, you’ll hear silence from motorized land vehicles. You’ll catch the occasional fart of a vaporetto, but not much more than that. Venice for sure sings in its own unique key, and it is often captivating.

On the island of Giudecca, it can be clearly heard. The incessant hum of waves as they move back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, colliding with the edge of the walkway every time the waves moves forth, and the farts. Waves splashing. I wake up to the sound of waves as opposed to the usual urbanity. I feel as if I have a very interesting, unique canvass  on which to paint my day.

The main transportation is via boat, vaporetto, which takes you on a journey to your destination. You ride on a wave, and if you are near the entrance of the vaporetto you’ll get to experience my favorite part of the ride: wind! Some vaporettos have seats in the front, which are also exposed to the elements. When I’ve sat in this front section, I am often seduced by the wind’s kisses.

On much hotter days, riding the vaporetto becomes significantly less romantic than I’ve described, but heck, even then, the proximity to the canal water provides an undeniable tranquility. The city feels relaxed yet lively. Eventually, you’ll reach your destination, whether it is San Marco, Zattere, or Giardini station, and begin making your way to where you want to head.  Often you’ll find that the city planning is simultaneously fun, adventurously inviting, and appalling as you encounter dead ends and the fact there are only two bridges across the main canal. However, as you make your way towards your destination, you’ll likely encounter many surprises. One of my personal little surprises is how many languages, Italian, French, English, Spanish, Romanian, all blend in the background. Another harmony that composes the Venetian sound.

Grab Your Favorite Stranger with Your Metaphorical English Hands

The background blend of languages is such a soothing buzz. It is something vastly different from my experience in the United States, and the monotony of a single language. I quickly realized that although the background hum was composed of multiple languages, I could often use English to communicate with any person that was speaking any language. It was easy to talk to shopkeepers and locals since many could understand English. It was also easy to talk up random people. Romanian tourists, Italian locals, Slovenian visitors. Even the random guy I approached for having the same backpack as I. Even the Croatian guy that works at the Venice Biennale was receptive of my english request of filming him while he ate his green apple. Even his Argentinian girlfriend, to whom I was introduced a week later, easily talked to me in English, until, to her great delight, she found out that I spoke Spanish.

The ease of talking to anyone encouraged my affinity for using the English language as my primary method of communication. But every moment I talked to a shopkeeper or a tourist or a local, an underlying feeling of disgust became stronger and stronger. While I was in India, my friend Aadarsh from Ashoka University, a liberal arts college in India, was telling me about the importance of English as a communal language. It provides Ashoka students with a communal language, which is an important for a diverse student body that covers all of India. The diverse student body means that the student body is composed of students that speak different languages– the languages of their native state. Aadarsh was telling me that Ashoka, and many other colleges and universities, face a language barrier that english helps break down. But knowing this did not ease the growing sense of disgust. The pervasiveness of English in the world has made it easy for me to resort to english for communication in foreign countries. The pervasiveness of english and its utility makes it easy to avoid Italian. I didn’t have to embarrass myself trying to speak the language.  Or get lost because I misinterpreted the Italian directions I was using. Or accidentally say something I didn’t mean to say. Resorting to english has prevented theoretical headaches. But what does this do to me? What does it mean to use English, as opposed to the native tongue to communicate?

For one, I am the ultimate tourist. Venice feels much less immersive, and much more like a fly by visit. At least that is what I believe after retrospectively reflecting on the days I used English and the days I tried using Italian. By primarily relying on english, I would be refusing to immerse myself in a significant aspect of Italian culture, and I would be perpetuating the linguistic monotony that exists in many areas in the US.

Too many words for a single blog post, so thoughts will continue elsewhere!