On a trip to Venice I discovered the magic of the city, but also the tragedy it faces

Between Christmas and New Year in 2017, although it was cold and wet, the small gelato shop in the heart of Venice’s San Marco was packed. I was there to research my book, The Venice Hotel. As our gelati was being scooped into paper cups, I remarked to the middle-aged man behind the counter that I was fascinated by the way the water from the canal splashed right up against the building, almost as high as the ground floor windows.

“Water and stone is the magic and the tragedy of our city all at once.” Credit: Ivan Bastien Photographe / Stock

“You don’t see that anywhere else in the world,” I said, captivated. “That combination of water and stone, it’s magic.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “Water and stone is the magic and the tragedy of our city all at once.”

As he rang up the till, and we tasted our gelato with tiny wooden spoons, he explained that the large passenger ships sailing into the canal every day created waves that eroded the sand and clay foundations of the buildings.

“There were five steps to enter this apartment when I was young.” He indicated with his chin at the building across the canal. Now, there remained only one step leading to the front door, which itself was also partially submerged under the water.

“Soon that step will also be gone. Not long after, the building will not be safe to live in and one day it will crumble.”

When I’d spent time in Venice previously, it was with nothing more than the abstract idea that the city was sinking. I had seen footage on TV of the floodwaters closing down the main piazzas and of tourists wandering about with raincoats on wooden planks erected across the main streets. I had heard of the MOSE project, the underwater system of gates designed to hold off the acqua alta, and knew that it had been besieged by red tape and corruption since the 1980s.

I originally decided to set my story in Venice because it was a city I adored. I wanted to write about the messy, chaotic, wonderful Libreria Acqua Alta, the bookshop with life-size gondolas acting as shelves and cats asleep on the counter. I wanted to include the stunning gothic architecture of the Basilica di San Marco, the hidden Palazzo Contarini del Bovolo with the winding staircase that looked just like a snail shell, the hole-in-the-wall bacari where you could sneak a late-night spritz and the early-morning Rialto markets where the freshest seafood awaited those brave enough to withstand the icy winds coming off the water. I hoped to bring to life the history of the Jewish Ghetto that was now a tourist hotspot, the colourful buildings lining the canals of the small island of Murano, and the beauty of the Lido, where the annual Venice Film Festival was held.

How rapidly the water levels were rising and how much Venice was on the brink of disappearing forever didn’t become apparent to me until I spoke with the locals, who amazed me with their stoicism in the face of such imminent disaster. I realised my novel needed to be about so much more than Venice through a dazzled tourist’s eyes.

I had to share the story of the taxi driver who had been priced out of town as Airbnb took the city by the throat, and who was taxed for his daily commute into Venice. “They punish us for working here,” he said.

How rapidly the water levels were rising and how much Venice was on the brink of disappearing forever didn’t become apparent to me until I spoke with the locals.

TESS WOODS

I took inspiration from a boutique hotel owner, who compared running his business in competition with Airbnb to a child operating a lemonade stand fighting for customers against Coca-Cola.

I wrote about the artisans who spent weeks labouring over traditional Venetian masks or creating intricate jewellery from Murano glass, who sat in their empty shops and explained to me that the tourists instead piled into the pop-up stores and stocked up on cheap knock-off products.

The dwindling number of Venetians watched in despair as big cruise ships kept docking, day after day, each creating serious pollution as well as undermining the city’s foundations, and as the ancient stone pavers were worn away by over 100,000 tourists a week, many of them day-trippers doing little to boost the local economy.

Since my research trip seven years ago, the Italian government has implemented changes to try to save the city. In 2020, it declared the lagoon a national monument and banned the big cruise ships from entering the canal. The MOSE project finally became operational and has been used to contain the floods more than 50 times, although this is largely viewed as a temporary fix rather than a long-term solution. The vaporetti that ferry tourists around are switching from being fuel-based to electric.

In 2023, a tourist tax of €5 was introduced for day trippers to Venice. The effectiveness of this tax remains in dispute, however, as more tourists descended on Venice in 2023 than ever before. And the rise of the FairBnb Co-op is providing a way for tourists to use 50 per cent of their dollars to go towards local sustainability projects. Some argue that these measures have been too little, too late. And despite it all, the future of Venice remains grim.

A more global response is needed. A lowering of emissions on a grand scale is the only thing that would see the rising levels of the Adriatic Sea surrounding Venice halted or at least slowed down. But the cries of the Venetians appear to be falling on deaf ears. Steadily rising water levels have scientists predicting that San Marco will be permanently underwater and uninhabitable by as early as 2100.

How to write about all of this without depressing my readers? Through art. I used the famous Venetian art exhibition, La Biennale, as inspiration for my fictional Venice Rising exhibition, where artists from around the world showcased their art to highlight the environmental issues plaguing the city.

Into the pages of The Venice Hotel, with the Venice Rising art exhibition as a backdrop, I gave voice to the gelato shop owner, the hotelier and the taxi driver, among the other vibrant stories that I was told with warmth, candour and an underlying urgency.

I hope that I did justice to the Venetians who I stopped on the streets and on the water, and that readers will not only fall in love with romance and beauty, indeed the magic of Venice, but will come away with a desire to do something to help save the city from its tragic fate.

The Venice Hotel (Penguin) by Tess Woods is out now.

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