When I first moved to Venice seven years ago, Amazon deliveries weren’t really a possibility. Like many aspects of life in this exquisite, maddening, addictive city, 21st-century conveniences like shopping via apps just didn’t function here.
For many Venetians, their hometown’s reputation as a place slightly out of time was one of its charms.
Yet the arrival of the billionaire circus that is Jeff Bezos’s wedding to Lauren Sanchez has fixed the eyes of the world not only on Venice, but on the anger felt by residents at the destruction of their way of life.
Today, the atmosphere in the world’s most beautiful city is distinctly ugly.
In my neighbourhood, Zattere, behind the Salute Church on the Grand Canal, the canals and alleyways are eerily quiet. Aside from an unusual number of mega-yachts – with smartly dressed crew bustling about the decks and heavies guarding the gangways – there’s almost no one about. Only the thump-thump of the helicopters ferrying guests from the airport on the mainland suggests anything unusual.
Frankly, it feels menacing.
Walking over to Tonolo, a favourite cafe, for an iced coffee, I have to dodge the camera crews crowding the narrow streets, all of them talking about the wedding. But most locals are keeping a low profile.
‘This doesn’t feel like a celebration,’ comments Bea, 34, who lives with her husband nearby. ‘It’s something more sinister. It feels like a heavy hand pushing down on those few of us, the ordinary people, who make Venice our home.’
She’s referring to the standoff between the city council, led by millionaire mayor Luigi Brugnaro, and the No Space For Bezos activists. It’s this latter group of protesters, who have unfurled their huge banners in St Mark’s Square and around the steeple of San Giorgio Maggiore, where the couple are due to get married tomorrow. Furious that one man – whose Amazon mega-business has resulted in the death of thousands of small Italian shops – can ‘rent’ an entire city for three days, these activists have sent a stark message to the elite gathering in Venice this week: ‘We don’t want you here.’
Meanwhile, the city council is rolling out the red carpet, claiming the millions of dollars spent in Venice by the Bezos circus justifies the disruption. It’s not celebrities per se that Venetians hate, but instead the mayor’s apparent policy of ‘de-populating’ the historic centre. By cutting back on public services and encouraging so-called hyper-tourism, they say he is shutting Venetians out of their own city. Most of the 46,000 who live in the island city loathe Brugnaro. ‘This city is on its knees,’ claims Alberto, an art dealer who lives on the Grand Canal. ‘Brugnaro sees Venice as a cash cow for his electorate on the mainland. He’s bleeding it dry.’
I can understand the protesters’ anger. In the time I’ve lived here, I’ve seen Venice become more and more impossibly congested with tourists, with more than 20 million visiting last year. The mayor’s much publicised ‘entry contribution’ – effectively a tariff for entering the city of ¤5 per day – has done nothing to reduce their numbers, but it does mean locals are regularly stopped and asked for proof of a payment they don’t have to make.
My greengrocer gave up last winter. Like so many small businesses, he was simply unable to cope with rising rents. His stand of beautiful seasonal vegetables has been replaced by yet another tacky souvenir shop selling Venetian masks.
When Brugnaro gloatingly announced that Bezos ‘didn’t choose Venice by chance’, he assured locals the wedding would not cause disruption. However the council has (very discreetly), announced the closure of three canals and several streets in the area surrounding Madonna del’Orto. The cloister is near the main Venice hospital and several older residents I spoke to said they felt anxious about access being blocked.
Many others feel resentful at the idea that Bezos will be bringing huge amounts of money to the city. Contrary to reports, the city’s fleet of water taxis has not been booked out; in fact, many drivers are boycotting the event.
Vittorio, 28, who lives on the Lido, is one of them. ‘Many of us work through agencies,’ he explains, ‘and they have doubled, even tripled, the prices. But they’re not planning to pay us so much as a single euro extra.’
Bezos and Sanchez seem to have done their best to express their respect for Venice, donating a reputed $3 million to Unesco Venice, the International University and environmental agency Corila. But protesters are unimpressed.
Toto, a young member of the collective behind the ‘No Space for Bezos’ campaign was contemptuous: ‘Bezos earns $13 million an hour. Why should we be grateful for $3 million?’
So far, the activists seem to have the city on their side. A planned opening party at La Pagoda restaurant has been cancelled and the venue for the post-wedding ball transferred from the Scuola della Misericordia to the Arsenale, a historic former military zone where it will be easier to keep protesters at bay.
However, there are still fears that local anger may tip over into violence. Checking in yesterday morning at the boatyard where I keep my own boat, I found several owners saying they were planning not to use their vehicles during the wedding period. There’s anxiety the police will be stopping drivers and that they’ll be schedato (put on file) as potential disruptors.
Although several local bodies, including the Venetian Association of Hoteliers, have spoken out in favour of the wedding, no one I spoke to expressed anything but distaste. Some talked of the city being ‘taken hostage’, while others said they were planning to leave town for the weekend.
As I made my way home over the Accademia Bridge, even the Grand Canal looked strangely empty. Venice feels tense, waiting for something.
The Bezos wedding invitation reminds guests that ‘This magical place has gifted us unforgettable memories’, but from the mood in the city today, they may not be happy ones.
