emily84:

Trieste, Italy. Piazza Unità d’Italia, by day and by night.

Simply breathtaking.

Venetian Carnival
Not so long ago the chief celebrants of the legendary Venetian  carnival were the children of Venice, who bought their funny faces and  moustaches from the chain stores and emerged to saunter self-consciously  through the city in fancy dress.

Venetian Carnival

Not so long ago the chief celebrants of the legendary Venetian carnival were the children of Venice, who bought their funny faces and moustaches from the chain stores and emerged to saunter self-consciously through the city in fancy dress.

friendofaudreys:

Oh Italy, I hope to see you again. 

friendofaudreys:

Oh Italy, I hope to see you again. 

"Mamma mia!"
A veteran fisherman took me out into the Venetian lagoon to find an island house I had read about, but when we reached the spot we found nothing remained of it but a pile of rubble. The old man was astonished, but even more affronted. “Now why should a thing like that happen?” he asked me indignantly. “Mamma mia! That house was there when I was a child, a fine big house of stone — and now it’s gone! Now why should that have happened, eh? Tell me that!”
He was an urbane man, though, beneath his stubble, and as we moved away from that desolate place, and turned our prow towards San Pietro, I heard a rasping chuckle from the stern of the boat. “Mamma mia!" the old man said again, shaking his head from side to side: and so we chugged home laughing and drinking wine until, paying insufficient attention to his task, that fisherman ran us aground and broke our forward gear, and we completed the voyage pottering shamefacedly backwards. "Like a couple of crabs," he said, unabashed, "though even crabs go sideways."

"Mamma mia!"

A veteran fisherman took me out into the Venetian lagoon to find an island house I had read about, but when we reached the spot we found nothing remained of it but a pile of rubble. The old man was astonished, but even more affronted. “Now why should a thing like that happen?” he asked me indignantly. “Mamma mia! That house was there when I was a child, a fine big house of stone — and now it’s gone! Now why should that have happened, eh? Tell me that!”

He was an urbane man, though, beneath his stubble, and as we moved away from that desolate place, and turned our prow towards San Pietro, I heard a rasping chuckle from the stern of the boat. “Mamma mia!" the old man said again, shaking his head from side to side: and so we chugged home laughing and drinking wine until, paying insufficient attention to his task, that fisherman ran us aground and broke our forward gear, and we completed the voyage pottering shamefacedly backwards. "Like a couple of crabs," he said, unabashed, "though even crabs go sideways."

"Ai, ai, ai"
Several times during my stay in Rome I came across a couple of countrymen who seemed, in their quaint fustian clothes and peculiar shoes, to have stepped more or less out of the Middle Ages. They were like substantial fauns, haunting the city out of its remote rural past. The medieval figures seemed to me wonderfully exotic, until late one night I encountered the pair of them anxiously consulting a bus timetable beneath a streetlight in the Corso. Then I realized that in fact they piquantly illustrated the matter-of-factness of the city. Nobody took the slightest notice of them, as they huddled there; they looked up and asked me for advice about the best way to get home, but when I told them I was a foreigner, “Ai, ai, ai,” they said theatrically, like Italians in old movies.

"Ai, ai, ai"

Several times during my stay in Rome I came across a couple of countrymen who seemed, in their quaint fustian clothes and peculiar shoes, to have stepped more or less out of the Middle Ages. They were like substantial fauns, haunting the city out of its remote rural past. The medieval figures seemed to me wonderfully exotic, until late one night I encountered the pair of them anxiously consulting a bus timetable beneath a streetlight in the Corso. Then I realized that in fact they piquantly illustrated the matter-of-factness of the city. Nobody took the slightest notice of them, as they huddled there; they looked up and asked me for advice about the best way to get home, but when I told them I was a foreigner, “Ai, ai, ai,” they said theatrically, like Italians in old movies.