3 likes
0 comments
The Venetian Gem
27th March 2020 Venice, Italy
"We're late. Mum, you really need to hurry".
Here I am, a 42-year-old woman from Sydney, negotiating the wind and waves of a Venetian acqua alta, on my way to a meeting with the world’s foremost expert on aged wine, and then I need to jump on a flight to Sydney. All before the Australian borders are slammed shut due to the recent covid outbreak.
I do feel I am getting ahead of myself, so bear with me.
I am an heiress, a very broke heiress but an heiress, nonetheless. I am related by marriage to the only living relative of Marco Polo, Siro Polo Padaleccia. I should now remove the word “living” from that sentence.
I have inherited a formally magnificent three-story Palazzo in Venice, that I cannot afford to maintain, insure or pay the inheritance taxes on. The roof needs repairing, and the Italian government is baying for blood. However, I do have a plan.
It is family folklore that the dirty, grimy bottle of Murano glass on the mantelpiece was procured by Marco Polo himself. The tale, passed down the centuries, is that it contains date wine purchased on the Silk Road in or around 1290.
Unfortunately, I need to sell either the grimy, old bottle of Far Eastern date wine or the formally magnificent three story Venetian palazzo. It is a bit of a no-brainer really.
So back to the present.
My Mother, Pearl and I are wading through the streets of Venice in what I call gumboots, but my very English Mother refers to as Wellies. The radio has been warning us of an Acqua Alta for days. This results in the sea level rising to at least knee level, and sometimes a lot higher. The warning sirens are blaring all around us, the streets are full of mask-wearing people, the water is glacial, and the waves are crashing over the sea wall.
“Mum, I know you have hurt your ankle, but if we don’t get to the airport in one hour, the Sothebys expert will be on his way to London. There is not another fine wine auction for months, and that will be too late for the taxation deadline” I must admit she is not my ideal Dan-Brown-Esque trusty sidekick.
“Lead the way, Clara and I will keep up. By the way, not only did I pick up the date wine like you asked me to, but I also picked up that other old bottle that was in the hallway. The one with the pretty picture of Venice on the label. I have always liked that picture”
I swallow my frustration about her impulsiveness and follow the stream of people to the vaparetto stop. I turn the corner, and feel my stomach fall. People are queueing for at least 400 metres to get on the ferry. I had not considered the number of tourists that would be trying to leave Venice due to the pandemic. There are no glamorous water taxis, usually so prominent at the entrance to San Marco. We now have 50 minutes and it is a 30-minute boat trip to the airport. I must admit, I am starting to fret now. Why would any live on an island?
Over the wind, I yell to my mother “Can you call the water taxi office and I will see if there is another way of getting to the airport? Mum! Mum?” Why isn’t she responding? Because she is not there.
Panic did set in now. When did I last see her? Had she been washed into the canal? I madly ask everyone around me if they had seen a grey-haired lady in a yellow raincoat and green gumboots, no wellies, whatever they were called. I do not know the Italian name for them, which is probably best as it was already confusing enough.
I rush up and down the sea front like a woman possessed. I peer into the water and run up to the high point of the canal bridges. This cannot be happening. “I am so sorry I made you hurry” I say to her silently. She is so much more important than a formally magnificent three-story Venetian Palazzo.
I scramble up onto the barricade to try and see over the crowds. As I do, I hear a little voice say “Clara, what are you doing up there, I thought we were in a hurry”. As I jump down, she continues “I want you to meet Gianni and his son Luca, they have a lovely little fish store down at the Rialto markets. I do wish we spent more time down at the markets, did you see the size of the Abalone?”
“Oh yes” She warbles on “I was in the market the other day, and Luca hurt his knee. I think I told you about that. Well, the old nursing skills came rushing back and I put them to good…….”
“MUM! WE ARE LATE!”
“As I was saying Clara, before you interrupted, I helped bandage up Luca’s knee and Gianni was so grateful that he is going to take us to the airport in his fishing boat”.
I didn’t expect that!
The trip across the lagoon to the airport is hairy. The wind whips around us, and the waves are very high. The boat smells of fish, which was hardly surprising.
We wave off Gianni and Luca at the busy airport wharf, and I ask my mother to stay where she is, and I gather up the old Tesco shopping bag that contains my 800 year old inheritance and run for my life to the check in counter.
“Mr Harding” I scream. “I am Clara Taylor, and this is the wine for the auction. How lucky you are transiting via Venice. I really hoped it didn’t have to be this way, as I did intend to go to London before I returned to Sydney. I have now had to cancel my London flight and head straight home. The Australian government are taking the outbreak very seriously”. I do think the adrenaline and nerves in my system has made me a little over-talkative.
Mr Harding is a very proper, but kindly English gentleman, who looks a little askance at the crumpled re-usable shopping bag, shoved in his hand. “Thank you, Mrs Taylor, I am glad you made it in time. Once we have completed our testing, we will be in touch to advise if it is suitable for our upcoming auction. I do hope you have a pleasant flight back to Oz, and I hope you get there before your government shuts the borders”. And then he was gone.
Just as an aside, why do English people insist on calling Australia, Oz? It really gets my goat. I have noticed that people of all classes do it, very strange. However, if he does manage to sell my bottle of date wine for millions of pounds, I will forgive him.
I make my way back to Pearl, and then start our long journey back to Oz.
The flight back to Sydney is uneventful considering all the mayhem that was happening in the world. The thought of two weeks in hotel quarantine, recently implemented by the Australian Government with Pearl is not filling me with glee. I hope I will not be driven to matricide.
17th April 2020 – Willoughby, Sydney
I am nervous. An email has arrived from Sothebys and I am too scared to open it.
I keep opening my phone and closing it again without reading the email.
At 8.00pm, bolstered by a couple of cheeky chardonnays I peek at the rather lengthy email.
“Dear Mrs Taylor
After thorough and careful genetic testing, we have come to the conclusion that the wine provided in not a 13th century wine……”
I do not have the heart to read the rest of the email and decide that another glass of the chardonnay, a good cry and an early night would probably be the best course of action.
It looks like my next call is to a Venetian estate agent.
Who will buy a Palazzo in a pandemic?
21sh April 2020 – Willoughby, Sydney
Now, this is strange. I have just received another email from Sothebys. I was under the impression that our wine was not going under the hammer. (I was considering a hammer of a different kind!).
“Dear Mrs Taylor
We are delighted to advise your wine listed at the International Fine Wine Auction received top price on the night. We are pleased to advise we will be depositing STG480,000(lesss 20% commission) into your nominated UK bank account by the end of the week.
As advised in our previous email, the second bottle of wine you supplied to us “Il Gioiello Veneziano” is a very rare lot by the Veneto vineyard, Venissa. This wine is very special as the grapes originate in a vineyard of a 7th century church. What makes it so spectacular is the flooding of the fields which is necessary after the acqua alta. No where else in the world does this procedure occur.
We are honored to have represented you for the sale of this rare slice of history etc etc”
To say I am floored is an understatement. I cannot believe it, and I cannot believe it was my mother, Pearl, who not only got us to the airport but also insisted we take the 2nd bottle. She really is a gem of a woman, and a very resourceful sidekick. I should start showing my appreciation of her and her funny little antics a little more. I have a flashback of the panic I felt in Venice when I could not find her, and I do not ever want to feel that way again. I do not know if I will be able to retain my inheritance but in hindsight, is it really that important? I have managed to live quite happily for 42 years without it in my life.
“Il Gioiello Veneziano” the name on the label that Pearl admired so much. I wonder what that means.
A quick translate on my phone enlightens me.
“The Venetian Gem”.
You must sign up or log in to submit a comment.