Venezia Football Club: Venice's best kept secret
In a city that welcomes 30 million visitors each year, it seems unlikely that something has been left undiscovered, right? Think again. Venezia Football Club has remained raw, authentic, and full of passion despite the modern age of overtourism. Sport fanatic or not, it’s worth checking out. Here’s why…
Before reading: Venezia FC was promoted to Serie A in 2021 for the first time in 19 years but was forced to cope with relegation and is currently back competing in Serie B.
Travel writer Thomas Watkins once wrote, “There is no country so much frequented yet so little known by foreigners as Venice [Italy].” That was back in 1788, but hundreds of years later it’s still true.
The reality is that 30 million people tour the Venetian Lagoon each year, eager to capture the perfect selfie in St. Mark’s Square. They pay hundreds of dollars for gondola rides, put out for overpriced cocktails in the famed piazzas, and live their fantasy of calling this lustful place home, even if only for an afternoon.
St. Mark’s Square as seen from the San Giorgio Bell Tower
It’s not easy to look beyond the facades of the San Marco district and why would anyone need to? There is natural beauty and history at every turn. Despite this, I couldn’t help but feel there was more to Venice than meets the eye.
Cue the Venezia Football Club. A professional soccer team formed in 1907 that competes in Italy’s second division (Serie B) and, despite the high volume of foot traffic within the city’s limits, is still undoubtedly hidden within the easternmost confines of the city. It has a history. It has a culture. It has passion. Yet rarely do foreigners ever experience it.
The club plays its home matches at the Stadio Pierluigi Penzo, a cozy 11,150-seat stadium that’s tucked away deep within the Sant’Elena district. A quick search of the web will explain how it’s the second oldest continually used venue in all of Italy. That’s quite an impressive feat when you consider the deep history of Italian football but somehow remains largely invisible to a majority of the city’s visitors.
It’s certainly not the easiest place to find. There are no banners, no yellow signs indicating a point of interest like those seen plastered around the tourist trail, and no walking tour in sight. The stadium is simply there, hidden in plain sight for better or for worse and serving as a discrete monument of stability within a city that’s constantly changing.
Inside Stadio Pierluigi Penzo - Venice, Italy
During my first visit, I didn’t learn of the club’s existence until the day after they had played at home. I wasn’t about to make that same mistake the next time I found myself aimlessly wandering the canals of Venice and sure enough, the stars aligned a year later.
On the day of the match, indescribable energy filled the air. Fans from Mestre, Venice’s mainland neighbor, packed the water taxi like a can of sardines, disembarking at the Sant’Elena pier before making their way to the stadium. It wasn’t a long walk from the docks by any means, but I’ll always remember the roar of the crowd directing the newcomers, guiding us through the streets, and growing louder with each step.
Once inside, I couldn’t help but feel as though I was witnessing a religious experience of sorts. Sure, Venice is full of cathedrals, but the Stadio Pierluigi Penzo is one that never receives attention. It’s a different kind of church, of course. A holy place where Venetians gather, rain or shine, to pay tribute to what many refer to as the most beautiful game in the world.
I took my seat in the Curva Sud section, home to the club’s diehard supporters. Organized chaos is the only way to describe it as a couple of delirious individuals led continuous chants throughout the entire 90 minutes, never once taking their eyes off the crowd. This was the heartbeat of everything, setting the tone for fans and players alike.
On the northern end of the stadium stood the away supporters, valiantly trying to make their presence felt with flags and cheers of their own, all the while seemingly un-phased by the uphill battle they faced. It was to no avail on this particular afternoon.
The atmosphere was a far cry from the luxury and sophistication that exude the shops along the Grand Canal. There was nothing “high end” about it, nor should there have been. Instead, the beauty of this moment came from within the people, their raw emotion filling the stadium like a pressure cooker that could only be released when the ball struck the back of the net in favor of the home side.
Anyone who knows me is well aware that I consider myself to be completely infatuated with the sport of soccer.
It’s only natural that I would come away loving the experience, but trust me when I say that this was different. On a gray, dreary, and otherwise lifeless February afternoon, the Sant’Elena district was alive and well thanks to an overlooked staple of Venetian life: The Venezia Football Club.
Wander amongst the canals of Venice and it’s easy to feel the rich history oozing from the walls of the city but step inside the Stadio Pierluigi Penzo on match day and you suddenly become part of it, living amongst the pages as they’re written.
This was the first time that I felt as though I had been gifted a small glimpse into the real life of Venice and for that, I will forever be a fan of Venezia F.C. Grazie, thank you, Winged Lions!
Thanks for reading and as always, stay safe & happy travels!
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Dancheong: The meaning behind South Korea's beautifully painted temples
Ever wonder why South Korea's temples are all the same colors, regardless of design and location? The answer lies within a single word: Dancheong. Here's the story of what it all means.
Ah, South Korea.
A land that seeks to balance urbanization with rich cultural traditions. A place where one can simultaneously feel overstimulated and completely at peace.
At times it felt as though I was embedded into one giant oxymoron, or maybe it’s just the one place in the world that had it “all figured out.”
Both are extreme exaggerations, but the country completely captivated me during my time there (the seemingly endless supply of dumplings and kimchee sure didn’t hurt, either).
In general, I tend to notice the subtle things when I’m in a new place and South Korea was no different. It’s these microscopic findings that keep me up at night, trying to critically think my way toward a novice interpretation of my surroundings.
As I wandered around the palaces of Seoul, I couldn’t quite pinpoint why all of the buildings were decorated with the same vibrant hues of red, blue, and green, but it gnawed away at my mind to the point of feeling compelled to write this post and share it all with you.
Yes, ok, it’s only natural to assume that there is some religious meaning tied to Buddhism, and, generically, that’s not wrong, but I’m talking more specifics.
Why are the brush strokes the way they are? Why are the colors so limited? Why so bright?
The answer lies in one word: Dancheong
THE HISTORY
Dancheong is the symbolism behind all of South Korea’s beautifully painted temples, referring to the uniform five-colored designs. The word can be translated directly as “red and green” and dates back to prehistoric times when the concept was found to be adorning the walls of tombs from the Three Kingdoms of Korea era (57 BC - 668 AD).
As time went on, dancheong spread from places of eternal rest to buildings of prominence. Not only did the vibrant design convey the importance and status of the residents, but it also served as a meaningful way to preserve and protect the wooden structure from the weather.
To this day, dancheong is limited to temples and palaces and in some cases, musical instruments.
Looking for more reading about South Korea?
THE COLORS AND SYMBOLS
All dancheong designs use the same five colors, each relating to the 5 elements theory in their own way:
blue: east, dragon, spring, and wood
red: south, birds, summer, and fire
white: west, tiger, fall, gold
black: north, hyeonmu (an imaginary animal that is part turtle and part snake), winter, and water
yellow: center, periods of time between seasons, and Earth
Together, it is believed that these colors epitomize the Korean desire for stability and peace in the present life, while working towards a rewarding afterlife.
Creating the masterpiece is just as much a work of art as the finished product itself.
Artisans must operate in unison to devise these complex and intricate designs, all while utilizing various symbols and patterns.
As one might imagine, highly specialized painters are required and each artist working on the project is responsible for one single color throughout the entire process.
Common symbols found throughout a dancheong design include:
3 circles: typically outside of large buildings and located up towards the roof, these represent heaven, earth, and the moon
Fish symbol: when located on the main Buddha table, this represents the effort and determination necessary for attaining eternal enlightenment
Swastika: Ancient buddhist symbol of peace, harmony, and good luck
Lotuses: Represents ignorance when rising from mud and enlightenment when ascending towards a clear sky
Location can also determine the color used. For example, exterior walls and pillars of buildings that receive sunlight are traditionally painted red
THE TYPES
The art of dancheong can be dissected into four main types, often identified based on location or patterns used.
Morucho: This is a pattern used on both ends of supporting beams, incorporating simple symbols such as a water lily, pomegranate, bubble, feather, or a green flower
Byeoljihwa: Traditional storytelling that is present between two morucho and consists of holy animals (such as dragons, lions, horses, or cranes) along with sagunja (specual plants such as plums, orchids, or bamboo) and scenes of the buddha sutra
Bidan munui: This pattern is full of diverse colors used to create geometric shapes
Dangdong munui: Used to describe when a single flower, animal, gemoetric shape, or pattern appears in one section
An example of morucho dancheong - a single flower is painted on the end of each beam
An example of byeoljihwa dancheong
So, there you have it. A brief story behind South Korea’s majestic and eye-catching temples, yet a much deeper understanding of ancient Korean values and beliefs. Next time you find yourself in new surroundings, or even in a place that you visit often but don’t know much about, be sure to take a step back and simply wonder. You never know what new meaning you might discover!
Thanks for stopping by and as always, stay safe & happy travels!
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Chasing Choclon Waterfall: Discovering paradise in the Panamanian jungle
As I combed through the research prior to our trip to Panama, I came across a picture of a swimming hole that blew me away. The moment I saw it, I knew we needed to experience it. There was only one problem: nothing I read would tell us where it was located…
Let me clarify one thing right from the beginning: we weren’t actually in the middle of nowhere. That’s simply how it felt, and to be honest, that’s just the way we like it!
As I combed through the research before our trip to Panama, I came across a picture of a swimming hole that blew me away. The moment I saw it, I knew we needed to experience it (click here to see the original post I found).
There was only one problem: nothing I read would tell us the location, let alone how to navigate the hike.
I stumbled deep into the black hole of the internet, searching for any clues that might point us in the right direction. The only objective I accomplished that day was leaving a solid imprint of my butt on the couch cushion. Disappointing, to say the least.
That might be enough to call it quits for some, but it only fueled the fire within. The longer I went without finding what I was looking for, the more determined I became. We were going to find a way to Cascada Choclón. There was no doubt in my mind.
All of the sudden a beam of sunlight shot into the living room. No, it wasn’t actually that dramatic, but shortly after opening the window blinds I came across our first solid lead.
It’s possible that “solid” is a gross overstatement. The website merely provided the GPS coordinates for the trailhead. It wasn’t much to go on, but that was enough to get the ball rolling!
I continued scouring every piece of information that I could find. When I took a closer look at satellite imaging, there was a portion where the jungle appeared to part along the river, providing a much-needed hint to where the falls may be.
Now that I had a starting point and a general direction, it seemed like this may pan out. Fast forward to arriving in Panama: it was time for the adventure!
As soon as we turned off the main road in Boquete, we quickly became grateful that we opted for the SUV rental. The pavement disappeared, our cell service wasn’t far behind.
The farther we drove, the slower we went, carefully maneuvering over every bump, boulder, and hole in the road. As the minutes ticked by, so did our confidence even though neither of us would ever vocalize it.
After what felt like hours, we had reached the starting point.
The car came to a halt and a cloud of dust from our tires quickly engulfed our field of vision. Once it cleared, we realized how “off the beaten track” we were. The sounds of the jungle beckoned beyond the open field that lay ahead. One last look at our maps and we were off.
The hike started by traversing through an open meadow as the sun beat down our backs, the humidity making it impossible for any relief. Upon reaching the first junction, we referred to our makeshift maps and descended to the forest floor, following the sounds of the river below.
As we trekked deeper into the brush, the canopy quickly began to rise straight towards the sky, providing a much-needed relief from the heat. Our compass instructed us to go left around a closed gate, but our ears directed us to the right, towards the sound of the rushing water. We stood there confused, unsure of what to do.
At this point the sun forced us to perspire off our umpteen layers of sunscreen and bug spray, leaving us susceptible to the mosquitoes that began swarming around. We were in no position to have a lengthy debate. Lacking confidence in either direction, we climbed back out to the trailhead.
Maybe we had incorrectly interpreted our map. Maybe if we walked another direction we would discover a different, easier way to reach the river.
It seemed like a good idea at the time but, as it turned out, we were wrong. Very wrong.
As we continued down the gravel road the intensity of the sun drained all of our energy. I could feel my body temperature rising, but I was too exhausted to do anything about it. Each step we took was met with an unsuccessful prayer for cloud cover.
Ten minutes and a new sunburn later, we had reached another dead end.
This was the point that every ounce of my being was telling me to pack up and call it a day. Our motivation was waning, the heat was relentless, and we were out of ideas as we slowly retreated back to the car. I remember Heather cracking jokes along the way, trying to make light of the situation and keep my morale in tact.
A second look at the scattered research revealed a small access path farther down the dirt road. Maybe that was what we were looking for, so we decided to keep driving north.
No luck.
I could tell that Heather wasn’t too sure about continuing and, to be honest, even after regrouping in the air-conditioned car, I wasn’t either. As a rainstorm moved through, we took the time to reevaluate what we were doing.
We felt assured and frustrated at the same time. Confident that we were in the general vicinity. Annoyed that no matter how we approached it, we couldn’t find what we were searching for.
The road back to the original trailhead provided some much-needed perspective as we passed run-down homes with missing walls and children playing in the rain. I couldn’t help but think of the number of tourists that travel through Panama each year and yet had no idea that this part of the country existed. Although we concluded that we would give our adventure one more try, I decided that after the experience we had up to that point, I would be content no matter what. After all, it was Dan Eldon that once said, “The journey is the destination.”
Once we descended back into the jungle, reached the gate, and shuffled our way around it, we were back on track and heading in the right direction.
We quickly descended farther into the forest floor, hugging a makeshift PVC pipe railing along a ridge and using the vines as support as we worked our way down into the canyon. The path was completely overgrown with thick brush rising far above our heads. Thrusting the branches aside, we did our best to stick to the trail quickly narrowed with each step.
The ecosystem of any jungle is the most diverse in the world, often-times leading to regular discoveries of new plants and animals. Panama alone is home to over 1,500 kinds of trees and five species of cats, including jaguars, ocelots, and pumas. It feels eerie yet humbling to be amongst it; a place where the silence is deafening and only broken by an occasional howler monkey crying out in the distance or a bird rummaging amongst the fallen leaves for food.
We silently trekked along the forest floor, remaining vigilant of our surroundings.
The moment we began to feel comfortable, a loud crash echoed through the forest and left us frozen in our tracks. We exchanged nervous glances, trying to control our breathing and telepathically communicate what to do next.
Tip-toeing forward as quietly as possible, we did our best to avoid the branches that covered our path. Needless to say it was a humbling reminder that regardless of how isolated we felt, we weren’t alone.
Finally, the thick brush parted and the bank of the river appeared, reinvigorating the idea that we could find these waterfalls.
We searched up and down the river for a way to cross, but it quickly became clear that it wouldn’t be as simple as jumping between rocks. We would have to carefully select the path of least resistance.
Although our faces may have expressed doubt, we were so close that we could feel it. There was no turning back.
The path continued to disappear before our eyes, winding its way through the overgrown brush before depositing us back onto the rocks and leaving us with newly acquired scrapes up and down our legs.
We continued moving northwest, systematically evaluating every step we took as our feet slipped off the rocks. The energy in the forest changed from nervousness to excitement as we inched closer. We were nearly there.
Just beyond the final bend of the river, the waterfalls were waiting to greet us. It was even more majestic than I had seen in the pictures.
We were left speechless as we peered towards an amphitheater of hanging vines and cascading waterfalls.
The beautiful blue waters of the pool were irresistible. We couldn’t help but jump in and soak up the moment. A rush of emotions engulfed us, leaving nothing but a sense of relief, gratefulness, peace. We had uncovered paradise in the Panamanian jungle. More importantly, we never gave up.
The forest floor quickly grew dark as the sun began to drop below the horizon, signaling that it was time to pack up and move out.
Back on the trail we went, accompanied by the beautiful silence, this time with no unexpected noises.
We made it to the car unscathed, feeling sunburnt and dehydrated yet eternally grateful for all that had happened that day. After all, we had found our own slice of Panama that, at that moment, felt truly untouched.
As I reflect on the adventure we had, I can’t help but think of one of my favorite quotes from the late Anthony Bourdain: “The journey is part of the experience - an expression of the seriousness of one’s intent. One doesn’t take the A train to Mecca.”
What have been some of your greatest journeys? Feel free to share in the comments below.
Thanks for reading and as always, stay safe & happy travels.
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How I Caught The Travel Bug: and 3 reasons why I can't let it go
I vividly remember standing there on the shores of Hopfen, Germany. It was the summer between my junior and senior years of high school and I was captivated by my first taste of international exploration. I didn’t know it at the time - I don’t think I quite knew how to process it all - but that was my first experience with the travel bug…
I vividly remember standing there on the shores of Hopfen, Germany. It was the summer before my senior year of high school and I was captivated by my first taste of international exploration. Although I was there to play soccer, what I remember most are the cows grazing the fields behind our apartments, the majestic Alps rising high above the blue water of the lake, and the quaint town with its endless schnitzel. I didn’t know it at the time - I don’t think I quite knew how to process it all - but that was my first experience with the travel bug.
I should have guessed that something had shifted. Things that were once important to me stopped taking up space in my brain. Whenever my mind would drift, it would take me straight back to that scene, standing there on the shores of the lake. Suddenly the excitement, awe, and desire to see more would keep me at the edge of my seat, working my way through Google Earth, scanning it all to find the next great adventure.
Fast forward to 2009, I was a freshman at Ithaca College. At that point in my life, I had shifted back to a more rigid mindset. Work hard, get good grades, and be successful. I had no intention of studying abroad, but then everything changed.
As I walked down a narrow corridor towards the sub shop on campus, I passed a poster for Semester at Sea. I was 5ft. from where I was going and this small 8x11 piece of paper stopped me in my tracks. I took it off of the bulletin board, sat down on a nearby staircase, and started to read and re-read every single detail. I was completely and utterly entranced as the world passed me by.
The idea of an opportunity like this had utterly captivated me. Once again, everything else I had on my plate was brushed to the side so I could focus on the important thing: doing anything possible to make a semester abroad happen. I spent the entire summer working two jobs, saving as much as possible to go out and see the world.
Have you ever had an experience that's so comfortable that it’s odd? That’s what Semester at Sea was.
I’ve never been good at social situations. It gives me anxiety to even think about it; I overanalyze, overthink, and can never come up with something to contribute unless I’m addressed directly. Even then I fumble over the words.
Why did 19-year old me think it was a good idea to put myself in the middle of the unknown, surrounded by people I’ve never met? Still, to this day, I don’t know have an answer to that question. With that being said, I’m incredibly glad that I forced myself into it.
Suddenly it was the day of embarkation and as we watched Halifax silently disappear on the horizon of the Atlantic Ocean, I still had no idea what I was doing. The next 110 days were a whirlwind, but I walked away with some of the closest friends I’ll ever have, all because one thing brought us together: travel.
That’s a bond of the purest form and one that can never be broken. We’ve all gone our separate ways and haven’t traveled together since, but whenever we catch up we always reminisce about the stories that we created together, all without missing a beat.
After returning to Ithaca for the rest of my sophomore year, I started to understand that the travel bug wasn’t just a phenomenon that people mentioned in passing. It was real. This time it wasn’t going to loosen its grip and to be fair, I didn’t want to let it.
I’m not sure what the tipping point was, exactly. Maybe it was the sleeper bus in China that dropped us on the side of the highway at 2 am, or climbing Lionshead Peak in South Africa as the sun set over the ocean. It could have been the time in Ghana when our van broke down on a dirt road right in front of the only house in sight and we ended up playing with the family for what felt like hours, far longer than was needed to fix our transportation. Whatever it was, I’m grateful that it happened.
From that point on I’ve always known that deep down traveling was more than simply buying a plane ticket and snapping some pictures; I had fallen in love with it. The aerial views from a window seat, the taxi rides in the wrong direction, the regular doses of PeptoBismol; all of it.
Don’t get me wrong, I go through the rollercoaster of thinking along the lines of what some might term logical: Get a job, find a stable career, live comfortably, and be happy.
If you’re reading this and think that I need to control my desire to perpetually wander the world, you wouldn’t be the first person to tell me that and I’d be willing to bet that you won’t be the last.
To my credit, I’ve tried. The last four years have taken me around the globe to some amazing places for work, but what many don’t realize is that traveling for work and truly traveling are two very different things. It was too comfortable. I couldn’t do it anymore.
So here I sit, writing this blog and hoping that it puts me out of my comfort zone all the while maybe, just maybe, inspiring you to do the same. After all, what better way to expand your borders than by living beyond their walls?
At the end of the day, it’s simple: I can’t stop traveling, I won’t stop exploring, and here’s why:
THE CHALLENGE
Dropping myself into a country where I don’t know anyone, a place where I don’t speak a lick of the language or have the slightest idea of how to navigate the city. That’s my greatest joy.
I’m not going to lie to you: it’s difficult. Even scary at times. There are days that I don’t want to leave whatever apartment I’m temporarily calling home, because those 4 walls are the only protection I have from the unknown.
When I overcome the fear, the concept of comfort expands beyond those same walls and suddenly I’ve overcome the challenges I once faced; I’ve learned a different way of life.
THE DRAMA
There’s a reason why so many of us are addicted to reality television: the drama. But what if there was a way to experience it first hand instead of sitting on the couch?
I’m not talking about the “he said – she said” BS.
I’m talking about running through the airport as the gate to your next flight is closing and you hear your name paged throughout the terminal. Your heart starts to beat faster as you feel the endorphins releasing, your forehead starts to perspire and then you realize that it’s out of your hands. What’s the universe going to throw at you next? How are you going to deal with it?
If this sounds stressful to you, that’s because it is! It’s in those situations that you grow. You learn to cope with wherever you are, whoever you are with, and whatever is happening. A valuable skill to have in life, indeed.
When I think about drama, I can’t help but remember the time that I was sitting on a train in Morocco when it suddenly broke down. Not knowing any of the local dialect, my friends and I struggled to communicate with the woman that shared our compartment. As the train delay dragged on, the closer all of us became, eventually laughing the rest of the way to Marrakesh. A dramatic situation successfully turned into a lifelong memory!
THE PURE JOY
Yes, traveling makes you happy. That’s a well-documented fact. I’m not necessarily referring to the personal joy it brings (although it does bring plenty), but rather the joy you get to witness in every place you go.
When someone you’ve only just met on the street invites you into their home, encourages you to sit in their chair while they make themselves comfortable on the ground, and fills your stomach with a seemingly endless supply of food (all the while never asking for as much as a cent in return), it touches you. Witnessing the magnitude of joy and generosity they exude is contagious and you walk away a better person because of it.
So, let me sum it all up for you. My name is Chris and I have the best problem in the world: I love to travel.
What are some of your most memorable travel experiences? Let me know in the comments below and thanks for following along!
As always, stay safe & happy travels.
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