Custom at Sea

Once, while delivering fish, Alessandro had gone to a luxurious hotel near the Rialto Bridge.

Its decor was extravagantly lavish, like the boudoir of a courtesan. The walls were covered in brocade, with heavy silk bed curtains and thick, luxurious carpets. From the terrace, one could admire the Rialto Bridge. Its splendor was enough to satisfy Louis XIV.

He was not particularly interested in such things. What made him envious was how the rich could loaf around all day, wandering everywhere with beautiful girls.

Italy's minimum legal drinking age was sixteen, but the rule had always been almost completely ignored.

Sometimes he went with the football team to a bar in Cannaregio to drink abbey ale. The decor there was very old-fashioned, and the beer was served from oak barrels. Tourists dressed in bizarre outfits came to the bar to "experience" local life.

The team mocked them while keeping an eye out for girls who had wandered off alone, looking for a chance to strike up a conversation.

He remembered Aunt Alicia. His mother, Juliata, was always compared to her. Juliata was not as beautiful as Alicia, nor did she have as many dreams. She had married Fernando, a very ordinary gondolier.

Alicia's first husband had been a photojournalist, but he was not well known and mainly made a living as a tour guide.

After cameras became common, everyone seemed able to become an artist. Every visitor wanted to capture Venice's perfect scenery through a lens.

A good guide could take tourists to little-known secret corners. Monica charged one hundred euros a day, which was considered cheap. If he met a good client, he could make six hundred euros in half a day. Supporting a family was absolutely no problem.

But one day, he vanished. Perhaps he had left on