This late summer represents the last chunk of time my brother will have over the next two years as he finishes up his Marine ROTC program at the University of Washington, where upon completion his time will be property of the USMC and not his own. This brings us to an incredible family trip to Italy, and hence to Venice – a unique landscape whose history and now its international image revolves around the oar, and yes, even ocean rowing.
I am enchanted with Venice; it casts an aura of beauty over everyone and everything I see. Not a big surprise considering one of Venice’s hobbies over her 2000-year existence has been self-beautification by both legal and dubious means. The city is crowded, also expensive, but when in the past thousand years (roughly when it was recognized as the preeminent maritime trading power in the Mediterranean) has Venice been different? When it was not filled with today’s tourists it was filled with pilgrims, dignitaries, merchants, buyers, fishermen and the thousands of oarsmen/soldiers it took to run their galleys… as well as the tens of thousands of Venetians living in their archipelago city, a city that still, with the exception of the causeway to the mainland suffers no cars.
Walking through the streets, some less than two shoulders wide, the sound travels strangely off the water and the walls giving the impression of a deserted city – save the sound of your own footfalls – until you turn a corner to find yourself lost among the humanity in some crowded piazza. Alone, through the narrow maze of mostly unchanged city, it remains easy to imagine Shakespeare’s Othello proudly walking the streets to the Doge’s palace with Iago plotting and scurrying after him.
Sails and eventually steam and internal combustion engines replaced most of the oar power on the high seas, but by this time Venice was in her waning years as a world maritime power and would never quite have the fleet she maintained for her golden years between 1200-1750 (with innumerable ups and downs of which I don’t have time to describe here). Yet throughout all that time the best way to move about her hundreds of canals continued to be by oar. In the early part of 20th century small engines replaced most of the previously oar-powered workboats that kept her functioning (In my short stay I saw police, foot ferries, fire, garbage, and even a DHL boat). Now oar power is relegated to the gondolier, one of the many ubiquitous and romantic symbols of the place. Their stroke is peculiar compared with what most think of as rowing, yet this stroke has developed pragmatically to work specifically within the Venetian canals. One person stands on the stern and pushes the oar against the characteristic ‘forcola’ oarlock with a correctional ‘J’ to the stroke. This combined with the boats asymmetrical design keep the boat moving true. The ‘S’ shaped forcola looks more like a piece of modern art than a purely functional tool of locomotion. It is built of hardwood, seasoned for several years and endowed with enough nooks and crannies all over it to provide up to eight angles at which it can be used to ply the boat through the water while deftly controlling its course.
The gondoliers, of whom there are roughly 450 licensed in the city, move about with confidence and dexterity even using their feet off the walls they navigate. Licenses most often pass from father to son and it takes a ten-year apprenticeship to become eligible. It’s a club that few outsiders could claim the privilege of belonging to. Although gondolas are occasionally rowed with a bow and stern man, the only time the city sees crews of 4, 6, 8, or dozens is in the case of the ceremonial barges that are rowed with the characteristic standing push stroke during competition or for celebrations – of which there are a several throughout the year including the ‘Regata Storica’ (Historical Regatta) every fall (unfortunately I just missed this). On these occasions motor traffic is ordered to cease and for a few hours Venetians and their guests can enjoy a glimpse of their past through the sound of hundreds of oars passing through the water.