Good morning, my name is Laura, I live in the San Giuseppe area, in Castello (Venice). I write because I feel the need to reiterate to those who come to Venice that they must show respect to the city and to those who live there. We are not a land of conquest where those who arrive come to bully and this must be reiterated to those who have taken possession of our territory.
In particular, I am angry with the staff of the “Coldiretti Village” who have been settling in Riva dei Sette Martiri, the Gardens of Via Garibaldi, the Giardini della Biennale and San Giuseppe for a week.
In these days I (we) have seen and endured everything: the landing of an incredible army of men and vehicles at 3 in the morning with all the resulting noise and with the machinery passing under the windows with their “pi-pi-pi -pi-pi-pi” (i.e. the acoustic warnings) that woke everyone up on the night of the 16th; the arrogance with which from the first day all the spaces were occupied by the structures that arrived, forcing residents to circumnavigate the area; the prevarication with which the “security-surveillance” workers sent back all the people (including elderly people and mothers with children) who had to pass, making them take alternative routes.
“You have to!”? To who??
If anything: we ask you for courtesy, we are sorry for the inconvenience… in my house, or not?
But until now I hadn’t said anything, letting it go, except that this morning yet another insolence made me feel unbearable.
Riva dei Sette Martiri, around 9.30 am, passes in that very small margin where it is still possible to walk, a girl with a dog and a man, one of those with the white and red thread in his hand (but what are they doing, they close the only passable roads when they need it?), with the yellow bib, staring at her obsessively, starts singing to her: “It’s the only fruit of love, it’s the banana, it’s the banana, and the ba-na-na here it is…”. I look at him with disappointment and continue on my way like the girl in front of me did.
It’s not over. A few meters further on, as soon as I go down the Giardini bridge, I am overtaken by a young woman running. She is dressed in a sports top, which highlights a generous breast, and very short shorts. He runs towards Sant’Elena and unfortunately he doesn’t have headphones with music, so he could hear the man at the foot of the bridge, also with the red and white thread in his hand and the yellow bib, shouting: “Uououou… where are you going … it hurts in this heat… come here dame, you’re happy here with me…” staring at her obsessively in turn.
But who are these rude scoundrels? But where do they come from??
Do you want to tell them that they have arrived in a city of civilized people and that their behavior must be appropriate?
Ours is a city where girls and young women are and must be free to walk or run in youthful or sports clothing without being harassed in the street with vulgar and offensive provocations.
They are our daughters, our sisters, our girls, and they must not be harassed with rude ignorant jokes and double entendres.
Thanks for the attention.
Laura
