The Ocean City
Venice. The Ocean City.
Where boats replace cars and the moon reflects tranquil illumination across sleepy lagoons.
Twilight. The serenity of an evening gondola ride hypnotizes even the most restless of voyagers.
To wade in the wakes of passing skiffs, and feel the aura of romanticism with every stroke of an oar, is to unveil the soul of the sea.
The Adriatic. Ferrying the riches of a thousand lands through its delicate channels. Showing the world of the world. Furnishing floating palaces with antiquity and heritage.
Walk its cobblestones of bliss, sandals brushing over the worn walkways across the Rialto Bridge. Never will you walk the same.
Only once you’ve immersed in the Venetian way, cast off your mooring lines to float through canals that brought empires to their knees, will the Ocean City claim a space in your heart and mind. Digging deep within your soul to plant a seed of quenchless wonder for those longing to pass beneath her golden gates.
“In Venice, tasso’s echoes are no more,
And silence rows the soundless gondolier:
her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always the ear:
Those days are gone — but Beauty still is here.
States fall, arts fade, but nature doth not die,
Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!” — John Stoddard’s Lectures 1897
