The man, the films, those blondes. Free DVD collection starting this Sunday
Fifty yards. That is all it takes. I’ve hardly left the quayside when the
first glorious rendition of Just One Cornetto sails across the
brackish waters of the Worcester & Birmingham Canal, courtesy of a
builder with a hard hat and Brummie twang.
I hear the tune again and again over the next 90 minutes. By the time my
heartbreakingly beautiful Venetian gondola glides into its mooring in the
heart of Birmingham, I have endured repeated demands for ice-cream, several
versions of O Sole Mio and an avalanche of smiles and comments.
It is the sort of joyous public reaction that has inspired the owner, Salvo
Ferrante, to order a second traditional flat-bottomed boat for the city’s
waterways. Add in the four traditional candy-spiral tethering poles he plans
to sink in the canal directly outside his Italian restaurant, Don Salvo, and
a small part of the West Midlands is mutating into La Brumissima.
It is exactly what Ferrante wanted when inspired by Birmingham’s 32 miles
(51km) of canal — four more than Venice — to buy the Marisa
Cristiano from renowned Venetian boat builder Gianfranco Vianello
(“Crea”) in 2003. “I wanted to turn part of the city into a little Venice,”
says the charming Sicilian, who has lived locally since 1979. “It took over
20 years to find the right spot for the gondola, but now it’s part of the
landscape.”
Perhaps, but I still do a double take when I see it moored next to the
Mailbox, the contemporary development of upmarket shops and buzzing
nightlife. Gondolas, shapely fusions of more than 280 pieces of wood,
including walnut, cherry and cedar — “the most beautiful thing God has
made”, according to Venice’s Count Volpi — are more at home passing Gothic palazzi
than Pitcher and Piano wine bars.
My gondolier, Ricardo, is also a surprise. He isn’t a swarthy, macho Italian;
he is Richard Bailey, a retired 64-year-old sales manager from Oxford. But
as we depart to cries of “Via Ricardo” it becomes obvious that he is a quite
brilliant gondolier. A member of City Barge, the rowing club for Venetian
and other unusual boats, he effortlessly steers the 36ft (11m), one-tonne
craft out into the canal. “How can an Englishman be so good?” smiles the
impressively moustachioed Ferrante. “He rows like a Venetian.”
The trip plunges you straight into the regenerated metropolis. If Venice was a
city state, then Birmingham was a city in a state. Not any more. The canals
have been the focus of dynamic development and we immediately pass the first
stages of the Cube, the shimmering gold commercial and residential complex
that opens in 2009.
Modern balconied apartments line the water, punctuated by Victorian brick
buildings reborn as the Canalside Café and the Walkabout pub. Ricardo, who
is teaching Don Salvo’s waiters the tricky art of single-oar, stand-up
sculling known as voga ad un solo remo, never misses an elegant
stroke as we glide through a vast three-way junction between the National
Indoor Arena and National Sea Life Centre.
A turn into the romantically named Birmingham New Main Line Canal takes us
beyond the new architecture towards the Black Country past a thumping,
whining factory that hints at a different era.
Of course, ducal palaces and Renaissance churches are a tad thin on the
ground. Brindley Place lacks a little of the historic charm of Piazza San
Marco and you are more likely to see empty beer bottles than Tintorettos,
but it is still a serene experience in the gently rocking gondola. Pass
under the white and black bridges stamped Horseley Iron Works, Staffordshire
1827 — Birmingham’s answer to the Rialto — and you sense the gritty beauty
of our industrial past.
On the way back, near St Vincent Street Bridge, we tie up Marisa Cristiano
and nip into nearby bushes for a pee – try doing that in Venice – and I
later offer my heart to a signora outside the Gourmet Burger Bar. But
with Ricardo crooning American folk songs and a ruby rose between my teeth,
I’m feeling slightly conspicuous.
When a construction worker leans over a bridge and hollers: “Oi mate,
shouldn’t you have a bird in there?” La Brumissima’s spell is broken. Via
Ricardo, via!
GOING GONDOLA
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