By gondola
The gondola had arrived. The wrought iron gate had been opened and on the Riva, since it was low tide, Ofelio and Beppi the gondolier had struggled to find the right position for the axis between the steps of the gondola so that, going down, there was no risk of losing balance.
When there was high water, however, the problems were of a different nature. It was necessary to take away the chairs at the sides of the room, to roll up the aisle of the first steps of the staircase. Once, to the enthusiasm of the boys who, equipped with boots, were splashing in the water, a gondola had entered for a ride at the entrance.
In my grandfather's time, near the Riva there was the gondola at the house which when it went out into the canals had tied the train with the colors of the family that followed it like a water snake at the stern. So I was told, I had never seen it. I had only seen Beppi's gondola arrive from time to time to accompany us to the Fenice theater or to the station. Embellished with golden ornaments, with two gondoliers dressed in white and a blue sash at the waist, he had come to take Francesca to Santa Maria dei Miracoli, to get married.
A couple of times a year he came to take his aunts on a picnic. My two aunts had a passion for picnics...
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