Postcard from Venice: Jeff Bezos and Lauren Sánchez’s Wedding
The first part can be read here
Part 5. A Brief History of Venice
Venice — a city built on water. But why here, of all places?
After the fall of the Roman Empire, between the 5th and 7th centuries AD, people from cities like Aquileia and Padua fled the invasions of Huns, Lombards, and other tribes. Seeking refuge, they settled on the muddy islets of the Venetian Lagoon — a place where water offered better protection than walls. Over time, the first settlements, raised on wooden piles, evolved from temporary shelters into a permanent city.
Venice’s canals were not man-made but natural water channels separating over a hundred small islands. The people shored up the banks with stone, built bridges, and raised homes on stilts. With time, the canals were deepened and maintained, turning into proper “liquid streets” where gondolas replaced carriages.
Part 5.1 When Did Venice Truly Begin?
Traditionally, the city traces its foundation to the year 421 — more a symbol than a certainty. But by the 9th century, Venice had become a rising maritime republic, bridging East and West through trade. In 1204, during the Fourth Crusade, the Venetians took part in the infamous sacking of Constantinople. Churches were looted, icons destroyed or stolen. The lion’s share of the spoils — bronze horses (now standing above St. Mark’s Basilica), mosaics, columns, treasures — was brought to Venice and gave rise to its exotic “Eastern” style.
Though officially just a “transporter” for the Crusade, Venice reaped the greatest rewards. After 1204, it became a true maritime superpower with ports and colonies stretching from Crete to the Black Sea. St. Mark’s Basilica became the most Byzantine church in the West.
Part 5.2 Plague and the City: The Blow and the Response
Venice, as a trading port, was highly vulnerable to diseases brought via ships, goods, and sailors from the East. The first and worst wave of the Black Death struck in 1348 — wiping out nearly half the population. More outbreaks followed: 1423, 1575–77, 1630–31… Each new wave felt like a returning nightmare.
Inventing Quarantine
In 1423, Venice became one of the first cities in Europe to implement strict anti-plague measures. On a small island, it built the world’s first isolation hospital — Lazzaretto Vecchio (Old Lazaretto). The name comes from Lazarus — the biblical figure associated with suffering, poverty, and illness.
Merchants, sailors, and cargo were kept there for forty days. If they survived — they entered the city. If not — they stayed forever. “Forty days” in Italian is quaranta giorni — the origin of the term quarantine.
There were two islands: Lazzaretto Vecchio for the sick, and Lazzaretto Nuovo for those merely suspected of being ill. Grim as they were, these measures worked. People died alone — among gulls, water, and silence — but the city lived on.
Part 5.3 Venice After the Plague
Despite the 1348 catastrophe, Venice didn’t fall — it transformed. Quarantine became the norm. The Doge’s power strengthened. Venice emerged as the main gateway between Europe and the East.
By the 15th century, it was an empire: Crete, Cyprus, Adriatic ports and islands. Venetian galleasses were the super-ships of their day; its glass and silk were coveted in every royal court.
Venice became not just wealthy but refined and cunning: the birthplace of opera, a center of printing and healing, a haven for conspiracies and contracts.
While kings fought, the Doges signed trade deals. While Europe redrew maps, Venice redrew profits.
By the 17th century, decline crept in — military losses, competition from Portugal and Holland. But even as it lost power, Venice retained its beauty. Palazzos decayed into poetry. Adventurers and romantics moved in. Venice ceased being the capital of the world — and became its theater.
Part 5.4 Venice’s Historical Icons
• Enrico Dandolo (1107–1205) – the blind yet formidable Doge who masterminded Venice’s role in the Fourth Crusade and the sack of Constantinople.
• The Doges (697–1797) – over 100 elected leaders across 1100 years. Not monarchs, but life-appointed managers of a republic. Their symbol: the majestic Doge’s Palace.
• Marco Polo (1254–1324) – world traveler, merchant, and chronicler of Asia. His name became shorthand for adventure and cultural exchange.
• Titian (Tiziano Vecellio, 1488–1576) – master of the Renaissance. Painter of Popes, Emperors, and Doges.
• Tintoretto (1518–1594) – prolific painter of dramatic canvases, especially in Scuola Grande di San Rocco — sometimes called Venice’s Sistine Chapel.
• Andrea Palladio (1508–1580) – architect of harmony and light. Builder of the Church of San Giorgio Maggiore.
• Antonio Vivaldi (1678–1741) – composer and violin virtuoso. His Four Seasons was born in the orphanage-turned-music school of Ospedale della Pietà.
• Giacomo Casanova (1725–1798) – adventurer, memoirist, diplomat, escapist. His legendary jailbreak from the Doge’s Palace became part of city lore.
• Lord Byron (1788–1824) – lived in Venice, found it decadent and poetic. Wrote of its decay, its mystery, and its moonlit balconies.
• John Ruskin, Henry James, Marcel Proust – all described Venice as a dying beauty, a memory turned into stone and fog.
• Visconti, Fellini – filmed Venice as a city of desire, death, and dreams. Death in Venice (1971) remains a cinematic elegy.
And today? Venice remains a magnet — from billionaires like Bezos to Biennale curators and film festival stars.
Part 5.5 The Russian Presence…
Russia and Venice may seem an unlikely pair. Yet traces of Russian (and Soviet) figures are etched deeply into this lagoon of memory.
• Joseph Brodsky (1940–1996) – poet in exile, Venice’s adopted son. Visited annually from 1972 until his death. His book Watermark is a poetic meditation on time, solitude, and winter in Venice.
“Venice is not a place. It’s a state of soul where one becomes the shadow of light.”
He asked not to be given flowers at his grave — just peace. He rests on the island cemetery of San Michele, near Stravinsky and Ezra Pound.
• Sergei Diaghilev (1872–1929) – founder of the Ballets Russes. Brought Nijinsky and Stravinsky to Europe. Died in Venice. Buried on San Michele beside Nijinsky.
• Igor Stravinsky (1882–1971) – composer of The Rite of Spring and Firebird. Chose Venice for his final rest.
• Sergei Parajanov (1924–1990) – filmmaker and legend of artistic resistance. His films made it to the Venice Film Festival — even when he couldn’t.
• Andrey Zvyagintsev, Kirill Serebrennikov – their works earned acclaim at the Venice Film Festival.
• Vladimir Sorokin, Dina Rubina – Russian writers who invoked Venice in tones of nostalgia, exile, and faded grandeur.
Venice in the Russian soul is not so much a place as a final chapter —
where myths die, memories live, and rest comes to those exiled from empires.
San Michele Cemetery, Venice. A foggy winter morning...
Three shadows meet among the cypress trees and gravestones, with the lagoon murmuring nearby and distant bells from San Giorgio echoing faintly. Each stands by a different tomb, yet none are alone.
Brodsky (breaking the silence):
“I did ask for no flowers, just peace. And yet, lilies everywhere. You don’t mind if I say… Venice is the finest afterlife one could hope for?”
Stravinsky (without turning):
“There’s too much water here. No musical phrase flows without a pause. But even death keeps tempo in this city.”
Diaghilev (sighing, theatrical):
“Oh, always with your music and metaphors. What I like best is that here, no one hurries. Even oblivion is late. And you, my poetic friend, came last.”
Brodsky (smiling):
“They didn’t invite me sooner. Now they won’t send me away. Venice tolerates everyone — composers, exiles, ballet masters…and those just tired of dry land.”
Stravinsky:
“Perhaps Venice isn’t a city at all. It’s a liminal space — not homeland, not exile.
Just a reflection of what escapes when you try to name it.”
Diaghilev:
“Then hush, gentlemen. Let the reflection remain still.”
Sound of water. A gondola arrives. A figure steps off — carrying a suitcase with no handle. They all turn.
Brodsky:
“Another one has decided this is the best place to stay forever.”
The man sets down his suitcase. There’s no name, just a faded label: Moscow — Venice. He pauses at the gate, senses the eyes upon him, and removes his hat.
Stranger (in Russian):
“Sorry… I’m a little late.”
The shadows bow slightly. Venice says nothing — as only Venice can —
accepting one more soul who has learned not to rush.
Part 6. The Contradictions of Venice
Everyone wants to be here — but no one wants to stay too long. Why?
• Because Venice is not a city to live in — it’s a city to feel.
A dream too beautiful to be real. A stage set better admired than unpacked. A museum where each step is a quote and every turn — an etching.
• Because living here is hard.
Expensive, flood-prone (acqua alta), logistically insane. Everything — food, furniture, trash — arrives by boat. Youth leave. Venetians vanish.
• Emotional gravity.
Venice frightens with its beauty and fragility. Like a woman in a ball gown who knows the ball is ending. Tourists fall in love — and leave.
“A city to visit, not to inhabit. Too beautiful to be mundane. Too much past to become future.”
• Compare:
– Paris is for living.
– New York is for working.
– Venice is for remembering.
Late evening. A terrace over the canal.
Lauren (softly):
“Jeff… I want to stay here. Really. Not a day, not a week. I’m in love with this city.
Let’s live here — six months, at least?”
Jeff (placing his Bellini on the railing):
“Lauren, no one moves to Venice. You return to Venice — like a dream, or a museum.”
Lauren:
“So what? I want to wake up to church bells, walk barefoot on marble, drink espresso in a nameless bar where no one knows me.”
Jeff:
“Three weeks in, you’ll curse your high heels on a water taxi. A month in, you’ll know the price of shampoo crossing the Rialto. Two months — and you’ll forget Uber ever existed.”
Lauren (laughing):
“You talk like Venice is punishment.”
Jeff:
“No. Venice is a gift. But not one you wear daily. It’s the kind of gift you take out once a year — and hold your breath.”
Lauren (after a pause):
“What if I want to stay anyway?”
Jeff (gently):
“Then I’ll stay with you. But promise me — each day we’ll fall in love with her all over again. Because if we don’t… she’ll vanish. Like a reflection on water.”
Lauren
“She’s jealous, Jeff.”
Jeff
“Of course she is. She’s over sixteen hundred years old. And you’re not the first one to want her.”
Meanwhile, down by the canal, beneath the terrace…
An old gondolier, leaning on his oar, rested against the stone parapet and looked up toward the glowing terrace.
— Ogni settimana qualcuno vuole restare… (“Every week, someone wants to stay…”)
A waiter from the nearby bar, lighting a cigarette and tapping the ash into a plastic wine capsule, nodded without looking up:
— E ogni mese partono in silenzio, senza salutare. (“And every month they leave in silence, without saying goodbye.”)
The gondolier sighed, pushed off from the wall with his pole, and slipped quietly into the darkness, leaving behind only a ripple — as fleeting as the dream of staying in this city forever.
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