Monday, September 30, 2019

The Lagoon



The Lagoon

“Excitement shivers through the crew.  Only minutes ago, with the dawning rays of morning, the lights of the Republic, ahead to the west, were spotted by lookouts high above the deck in the rigging.  With this news, the strokes of our fifty oars seemed to have gained strength.  Ahead, the Lido inlet to the lagoon awaits.  Almost home after years away and these months at sea, there is good reason for our elation.  Our journey aboard the galley, Draga, has been arduous and throughout fraught with danger.  Ours has been a special mission, secretly assigned by the Doge Dandolo himself during the sacking and wanton destruction of Constantinople by crusaders.  Our cargo had to be saved from the ravage of booty-hungry knights.  Otherwise, like so much of the city’s artwork, our
prize would have been melted down for the value of its metal.  God be praised, the eight crates lashed to the deck beside me are proof of our success.  In the dark of night, with my own hands, I stealthily helped remove them from their perch high above the private boxes of the Hippodrome racetrack.  Their size had presented an unexpected problem. This drastic situation called for desperate measures.  Like some headsman, though at first I hesitated, I severed their heads to get them down.  It was the only way.  They will need mending, but I was careful to make each cut at the same place. Possibly collars can be added to each of the four to obscure where their heads were removed.  Only then will these four horses, the “Triumphal Quadriga”, be whole once again.”       
The Constantinople Stallions with Collars 
This imagined scene or something like it would have played out in 1204 with the arrival by ship of four life-sized horses taken from Constantinople.  Interestingly, these horses originally thought Greek in origin were more likely made by Roman hands in the vicinity of the 2nd century AD.  Another common misconception is that they are touted to be made of bronze but in fact are almost pure copper.  In a way, we should be grateful for the Doge’s ill-gotten gain, for these trophies of conquest are the only team of horses to have survived from the ancient world.  It wasn’t until 1254 that they were installed outside on the terrace above the main entrance to Saint Marks Basilica to symbolize the triumph of Venice.  There they stood, but for a brief Napoleonic hiatus to Paris, until 1980.  For their protection from the elements, these magnificent stallions were relocated inside the basilica where we recently saw them along with their stand-in doubles outside.  Yet their safekeeping may not be complete for severe flooding and subsidence of the city are growing threats. 
We managed to arrive in Venice in the heat and humidity of August.  If you were to discount the elbow to elbow masses disgorged daily from cruise ships and weren’t confident your accommodations had air conditioning, maybe even the luxury of an elevator, forget about going at this time of year.  The air limp, conditions are simply uncomfortable.  Our wanderlust won out, however, and discretion notwithstanding, we caught a high-speed train from Naples.  At speeds occasionally reaching 250 km/hour, a little over five hours later found us at Santa Lucia Station, Venice.  Outside the terminal, the Grand Canal lay at our feet.  It teamed with activity.  Chaotic in its beauty, boat traffic hurried by, people headed every which way, classic Chris-Craft style water taxies milled about, the dome of San Simeone Piccolo on the opposite bank rose heavenward, while to the left, the Ponte degli Scalzi footbridge led into the heart of Venice.  We’d been to Venice a few times, but each time the majesty of this scene causes us to pause in appreciation of its magnificence.  Minutes later, our adventure began.  We were off by Vaporetto to our Booking.com home, our accommodation by the Rialto Bridge for a few days.
Venice is a city built by refugees from the mainland in the 5th century AD.  They were fleeing successive waves of Visigoth and Hun invasions.  Attila the Hun in fact and his horde of marauders from present day Hungary.  Venice is not a single island but a series of islands, more than one hundred all told.  Motivated by necessity and spurred-on by desperation, these early settlers began to build first by driving 60 foot long pilings made from the trunks of water-resistant alder trees into the mud of the swampy marshlands.  How they managed to pound these poles into the ground back then, I’ve no idea.  It is estimated that there are 8-16 million of them, so close together that they touch.  Foundations were then constructed on plates of limestone placed atop these pilings.  To drain the area, they also dug thousands of canals.  Thus, it is a city not quite afloat, more like suspended on poles over a thousand years old.  Unique as it is, it’s no wonder that the lagoon and part of the city have been designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Clearly, Venice will forever be linked with water.  In its beginning, water proved to be a buffer against barbarians.  Later Venice’s ships and 
Life Goes On
the sea served to build it into a wealthy republic.  Today, in a turn of events, this same water threatens its existence.  As high and dry as we found it, all is not well.  With water levels rising along with a gradual subsidence in Venice due to the amount of water pumped from the aquifer beneath it, Venice and neighboring islands face a mounting crisis.  An October 2018 flood saw three-quarters of the “floating city” underwater.  City records show the sea level has risen a total of 10 inches since 1870.  Around half this amount is due to subsidence.  Further measurements show that the sea level is rising 0.1 inches a year.  To do nothing was therefore not an option for some experts argued that Venice would be gone by the year 2100. 
That October flood, reportedly the worst in a decade, reached a high-water mark of 5.1 feet (in
The "Acqua Alta"
way of comparison, a Nov 1966 flood reached 6.4 feet).  Flooding, though not new, is an annual event.  A 12th-century prison occupied the lower level of the Doge Palace where inmates suffered from poor conditions including extremes in weather and occasional floods.  As the water rose, many would die restrained in their chains.  These days, as June through November mark hurricane season in the Caribbean, autumn to spring mark the "acqua alta” flood season in Venice.  This is a period of exceptionally high tides in the Adriatic Sea.  Some have learned to adapt.  In Venice proper for instance, on Calle Lunga Santa Maria Formosa, only steps away from the church of Santa Maria Formosa, you will find the Libreria Aqua Alta (Bookstore of High Water).  It is unique, a bookstore like no other, for it has resigned itself to constant flooding.  Its over-stuffed rooms are stacked wall-to-wall with
The Waterproof Bookstore
books, magazines, maps, and other curio.  Due to the recurring floods, these picturesque piles are all kept inside bathtubs, waterproof bins, and in one room a full-size gondola. Unfortunately, the majority of the city’s inhabitants, far less fortunate, can’t exploit the situation and manipulate it into a tourist attraction.
On our tour of Saint Mark’s, where we got to see the real stallions of Constantinople, our guide pointed out the flood level watermarks on the walls.  Apparently, they have become tourist attractions and are now included in the tour.  In conversation with her and others, 
Our Tour of St. Mark's Began Outside
we learned that the project underway to address this city crisis was also in trouble. 
In hopes of addressing this growing threat, in 2003, Italy began building a massive flood barrier designed to isolate the 210 square miles of the Venetian Lagoon from the adjacent Adriatic Sea.  The project is known as MOSE, an acronym for Modulo Sperimentale Elettromeccanico.  In English this works out to be Experimental Electromechanical Module.  I’m not particularly keen on the title which emphasizes the word “Experimental”.  It may be too late for experiments, which at least to me, imply tentative actions and especially an uncertainty in the outcome.  And as acronyms go, the choice of the letters MOSE appear to have been cleverly contrived to identify with the prophet Moses.  Experimental or not, it is one of the largest civil engineering projects in the world today with currently $6.5 billion already spent (up from its $1.8 billion total project cost estimate).  In rough comparison, as massive projects go, the Apollo Project that put men on the moon from 1960-1973 cost $28 billion.  The name, MOSE, seems apropos for it reminds us, which I think is the intent, of the biblical story of Moses dividing the Red Sea.  From reports, it may indeed take another miracle to restrain the tidal waters of the Adriatic.
Seemingly essential for the city’s survival, the sea wall project has been shrouded in controversy and pummeled with criticism.  Corruption, political scandal, pollution, and engineering problems (or should I call them busted experiments) abound.  Things got so wrong that in 2014 former Mayor Giorgio Orsoni was arrested along with 35 other people on bribery and cover-up charges.  Thus goes Italy, if not most of the world, into the haunts of human frailty.  Now years
MOSE Tidal System Gates 
behind schedule and well over budget, work completion is being accelerated as if once again Egyptians were at their heels.  Originally set to be operational around 2011, some believe that if that miracle of miracles happens and all goes well from here on out, it will not be completed until 2022.  It certainly would have saved the day, as recently as the 29 October 2018 flood.  As the project continues to languish, there have been reports that mold inside the gate maintenance passages are 5 cm deep in places and marine life encrustations are eroding those underwater structures already in place.  The design consists of 78 retractable flap gates stationed at the three inlets to the lagoon from the Adriatic - the Lido and Malamocco Inlets on either side of the Lido barrier island, and the Chioggia Inlet farther south.  When the tide reaches 43 inches, which happens around four times a year, the gates will fill
MOSE Lagoon Inlets
with air and rise above the water's surface to protect the lagoon from flooding.  When the tide recedes, the gates fill with water, fold on their hinges, and lower themselves back into their underwater cradles on the seabed.  In theory, it sounds pretty straightforward.

My information source, La Stampa Newspaper, reports there is talk of dismantling the barrier project entirely.  Though unlikely at this point, their banter has justification, mainly the mounting technical issues and certainly concerns over mismanagement and skyrocketing costs.  Inspections show that many of the gates have eroded, and their massive hinges appear at risk of cracking.  Sediment deposits and mussels, which grow abundantly in the lagoon and which we so enjoyed as delicious cozze on our plates while there, are to blame.  Maybe we should all do our part and eat more mussels.  Then again maybe the project engineers should have realized that sea creatures like to attach themselves to underwater structures and in shallow, muddy lagoons, tidal driven sediment abounds and can settle anywhere.
We noticed how problematic shifting sediment was ourselves.  On our trip to Burano, days into our stay, I recall pointing out how clearly marked our ferry route seemed to be.  In fact, all boat traffic, private and commercial, stayed between channel markers.  Wooden poles lashed together above the surface, called bricole, serve as the “white lines” on either side of these water highways.  They clearly marked the intended water routes between islands.  The lagoon is shallow with mudbanks that frequently shift with tides and currents.  Travel outside these well-marked lanes comes at the risk of running aground, especially at low tide.  To ensure unobstructed passage these channels must frequently be dredged to keep them navigable. 

Water Highway "Bicole"
On a more technical note, MOSE gates already in the water cannot rise into position due to various technical problems.  Those on land, as they awaited installation, rusted in the salty air, despite their special silicone varnish which seagulls liked to peck off.  The marine environment, as you’d expect, is having a corrosive field day.  Why this is, is not exactly explained beyond “we have the best coatings that technology can provide.”  Here again, oceans, and I’m pretty sure seas too, contain plenty of corrosive salt.  Who would have suspected that?  The article then went on to say that to complete gate installation and repair the structures already ruined will require the handsome sum of an additional 700 million Euros plus at least 105 million Euros per year to guarantee their function and maintenance.  I can easily imagine a small army of scuba divers and a fleet of small boats hard at work as part of the 105 million in maintenance.  Now doesn’t that sound like a cushy lifetime job and all the cozze you can possibly eat!  But there is more disappointing news.  The 156 hinges that connect the gates to their housings – each one weighing 36 tons – are at extremely high risk (a probability of 66 to 99%) of being unusable.  Ouch. 
There was also a lock debacle.  When the gates deploy and the lagoon is sealed, accommodation for transport shipping was made.  On the idea of the Suez or Panama Canals, here a single lock permitted entry to and exit from the lagoon.  After it was built, it took the collapse of the lock gates in 2015 to discover that water pressure on these gates was too great for them to operate.  Apparently, a measly 18 million Euros later, the problem was corrected.  You would have thought that by now, designing a lock gate was a simple engineering problem.  As one sarcastic critic, freelance journalist Erla Zwingle noted, during the calculations, the engineer may have been distracted by the delivery of a pizza.  Hopefully, at least when it comes to pizza, he got what he ordered.  It would appear that it may have been easier to get to the moon! 
MOSE Sluice Gates  
La Stampa continued:
“An inspection has shown that the MOSE hinges, underwater for three and a half years, are already in an advanced state of corrosion. Tests in recent months showed gates unable to rise, while others cannot retract due to the accumulation of sediment, and there are several problems with the pipe system, and one of the housing structures in the Chioggia Inlet has exploded. A special boat … it failed its first attempt at lifting one of the barriers.” 
That “jack-up” boat is interesting.  It is a special boat designed to transport flap gates for maintenance to and from the Venice Arsenale, the historic facility in the city where Venice’s naval armadas of old were built and where Galileo once worked as a 
The Jack-up Boat Underway
naval engineer.  The boat came in at a whopping price tag of 52 million Euros then failed its first attempt at lifting one of the barriers.  Hopefully, it was warrantied!  It has heavy weightlifting to do, for each massive gate (
87 ft long, 65 ft wide and 13 ft thick) weighs 282 tons.  Many costly redesign modifications later, it finally worked and stepped-up to replace a stand-in barge system in the final phase of gate installations. 
The last of the 78 gates was installed on the seafloor on 30 Jan 2019.  It occurred without fanfare and absent celebration.  By that point, the project’s backstory has accumulated a total of 5,740 days, almost 16 years, since May 14, 2003, when the foundation stone was laid in the presence of then Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi.  No bottles of Asti or Prosecco were reported to have christened this final behemoth gate before it was lowered to its resting place along the barrier foundation as might have been expected.  It was reported that even top management remained low key and decided not to celebrate this symbolic accomplishment.  After all, hadn’t there been 77 previously?  And I don’t recall mention of a Hebrew celebration after Moses parted the Red Sea and they’d made their escape from the Egyptians.  I suspect that perhaps a bottle or two may have been uncorked in the 0500 dark of morning when that last gate was installed but by workers who’d seen the project through all those years. 
Yet even as symbolic as the installation of the 78th gate may have been, MOSE is not finished.  There is more ahead especially when the sluice gates, like drunken sailors, are not able to stand up.  Only those on the north side of the Lido have been complete for years.  Four of them were raised for the first time back in 2013.  A couple of years ago there was a test to lift all of them together that ended in difficulty.  Sediment had settled on the housing floor and prevented the last three from descending into their supports completely.  Well, for what it is worth, I guess raising them is more critical to the wellbeing of the city then getting them completely back into their holders.
Somewhere in the lifecycle of this project, from concept formulation, on to system design, planning, and eventual program execution, something fell through the cracks.  It seems possible a lot fell through some big cracks.  Problems that raise their heads far downstream like a specially designed lift boat that doesn’t work or weak lock gates, are costly to correct.  A software tool, something like Microsoft Project, for example, might have proved handy especially in monitoring long-lead critical path development where slippage in one area causes events to impact other program activities and cascade through a project of compounding complexity like the aftermath of a bowling ball meeting that first pin.  Maybe the project team or team of teams used them but still, there were flaws.  Wouldn’t you think it might have been important to ensure that the power station was operational in advance of the day when it would be needed to power the gates?  Instead, the underwater gates had plenty of time to corrode as they bathed in salt water and became home to humble mussels as they awaited the plant’s completion.  But it’s easy for critics to cherry-pick events and as we say “play Monday morning quarterback” after the fact.  It seems MOSE has deep pockets which to this point have saved the day.  Money to fix and patch flowed and continues to flow as easily as the incessant tide.  In the future, I wouldn’t be surprised to see a tax on visitors implemented by authorities.  Someone has to pay, and costs are usually passed on to the “consumer”.  Welcome to Venice, where soon, like Disneyland, you may need a ticket to get in.
As MOSE is testament to, giant projects don’t always go smoothly.  Some in fact, never pay off.  Take California’s High Speed Rail Project as an example. Its plug was pulled after doubling its cost estimate, mismanagement, misleading rhetorical chicanery, and zero promised commercial buy-in.  Similarly, the play-out so far for MOSE has been overshadowed by a dark comedy of errors under the direction of a corrupt consortium.  Work continues in haste today by a reconstituted team of contractors and management.  The spring of 2020 will hopefully see the beginning of the first tests of the entire system and the beginning of the end, the successful end, of the project.  In the meantime, be sure to bring galoshes, if not hip waders, along during flood season until at some point corks fly in real celebration. 
The real test will come, however, when rising Adriatic tides again threaten Venice, Saint Marks Square, the Basilica, and the four stallions tucked away in its attic.  As for it paying off, we’ll just have to wait and see if MOSE comes through when the call comes to flip the switch.  Whether it be the vacuum of space or the hostile aquatic realm of the sea of the planet we inhabit, how arrogant it is of us to believe we can master either and control the forces of nature.  In the case of MOSE, however, we may be lucky to succeed, if only for a few hours at a time.
Written on the Road …

From That Rogue Tourist
Paolo