Carnevale di Venezia

Carnevale di Venezia has come and gone once again without my attendance.  I sit here at my computer as the season of festivity turns to the season of Lent - season of solemnity and piety, and look up at the mask my dear sister brought me from Venice.  I yearn to slip it on and run joyously through the streets in a swirl of silken color.  However, in Provo, Utah this may prove to be less than fun.

There is something so haunting and beautiful about Carnival in Venice*; a time, historically when class, like a face, was hidden behind a persona, and the streets and canals of Venice become a magical playground of pageantry.  Like many things in Europe Carnival suffered in the 20^th century from war and politics, but thanks to the strong people of Venice it returned in 1979 and has flourished.

Now, for many, when Epiphany has passed, the laces, silks, velvets and ornate masks emerge and feed life into the city.  Like spring retuning to the world.  I can almost hear the lap of water and the rustle of crinoline as revelers steal about the ancient city in search of pleasure. Perhaps next year I will come.

*please note that Carnival in other places is something less than enchanting, the worst of which is New Orleans where drunken debauchery and boob flash is the “thing” to do.