THE PHOTO ESSAY

VENICE – THE RAIN, THE CANAL, AND AN UNPLANNED TRIP

By Michael Doherty

Michael Doherty is a film and television editor based in Toronto. He is also an avid traveller. The photos and commentary are from his visit to Venice in 2019.

It was a half-hour walk from the western part of Venice’s San Marco sestiere (district), where I was staying, to Cannaregio – another of the Italian city’s historic districts. The sun was setting after a rainstorm. The city was still wet from the deluge, with lights refl ecting beautifully off the tiny Venetian walkways.

The rain had stopped a couple of hours earlier, and I decided to walk to a pub owned by Sonja and Alberto, two people I’d met 10 years earlier during a visit to the Venice fi lm festival.

FULL IMMERSION

On my way to the pub, I took pictures of the always beautiful Venetian canals, bridges and buildings. Arriving at the Grand Canal, I walked down a tiny passageway to the water’s edge. The sun had now set and the sky was an exquisite violet and orange. Just as I took a picture, I slipped on the damp, mossy stone and fell into the canal, camera and all. If this was a French class, it would have been full immersion. I hit my back on the way down and scraped my elbow. Completely alone, I was lucky to pull myself out.

Then my camera started clicking loudly – a rather incessant, “badly damaged” kind of sound. I took the battery out, but I was too late. It died. The card wouldn’t read in my other camera, and I realized all my latest images were lost. Sitting on the stone, I tried to clean myself up as best I could, then headed for Alberto’s pub.

THE KINDNESS OF OTHERS

I went to a café and asked to use the washroom. Noticing the blood on my arm, the concerned woman at the door asked if I was OK. I said no. She let me in, and I managed to clean up reasonably well before continuing on to the pub. Still soaking wet and bleeding, I must have looked a sorry sight asking for directions.

I finally found the pub and told Alberto my story. He smiled. The “tourist in the canal” story is not new. We sat alone at a wooden picnic table outside in the back. My pants, shirt, and shoes were still drenched. Alberto brought something for my wound, and we shared a couple of beers and a few stories before I decided to walk back to the hotel.

Once there, I used a hair dryer on the camera and the card. The camera never returned to life, but I got the card to work. These are some of the pictures I saved.