A Side Note on a City: Venice Between Bezos’ Wedding and Tourist Fatigue

 Just earlier, I was watching snippets from Jeff Bezos’ wedding in Venice.

Naturally, the extravagance of the event and its exclusive guest list were stories in themselves.
Some people shared the news with mockery, saying this marriage was “doomed from the start,” pointing to the rainfall that nearly ruined the ceremony as a bad omen.
Others, more optimistic, said the rain was a sign of blessing and prosperity — as if Bezos needed a couple of kind prayers to “open the gates of sustenance.”

Venice: A City of Many Moods

Venice — for those who have visited — is unforgettable.
I’ve seen it in every light.
On sunny days, it's romantic and uplifting: the gondolas adorned with flowers glide slowly along the dark waters of the canals. You try to ignore the boat’s swaying and the fear of tipping over, focusing instead on the moment, the mood, the emotion.
And I’ve walked through it in the rain, when you’re not sure where to hide — every street seems to lead back to the water, as if you’re caught between getting drenched and drowning.
Worst of all, I visited it shrouded in fog, and swore never to return. But I did. Like most lovers, we always return.

Maybe that’s why Bezos — like George Clooney before him — chose Venice: a romantic backdrop steeped in legend.
A city of facades, balconies, masks, and color. A film set where the guests are also the actors.
Venice markets itself as eternal, and the people market it in return — one grand scene at a time.

Venice (and Others) Have Had Enough

But Venice, like many other European cities lately, has grown weary of tourists.
Its residents — along with those in Florence, Barcelona, and Amsterdam — have started voicing their frustration loud and clear.
There are protests, angry faces, banners saying: “No more tourism!”

The reasons?

 Many.
But the most pressing is the housing crisis.Property owners can rent to tourists by the week for more than locals can afford in a month.

Short-term rental platforms have exploded. Tourists prefer apartments over hotels — it’s cheaper and feels more “authentic.

But this trend has pushed locals out of their own cities.

They see strangers occupying what should have been homes. And if words had fists, they’d be punching.

Another reason is overcrowding. Infrastructure is strained. Public transport is overloaded.

Essential goods run low. Even public toilets have become borderline unusable.

Locals can no longer recognize the cities of their childhoods — and they’re bitter about it.

But to me, the most profound grievance is cultural invasion.
Tourists come with their own habits, their own codes — often with little regard for local sensitivities.

I remember visiting Mallorca in Spain, and how noticeably cold the locals were toward German tourists — a tension rooted in the infamous Ballermann parties: endless alcohol, pounding music, drunken misbehavior.
In Barcelona and elsewhere, many tourists disregard museum rules or cultural etiquette altogether.

Bezos in a Gondola — But Without Flowers

When Bezos arrived in Venice, he probably made the hotel owners and restaurateurs happy — their bookings soared, and their names made the headlines.
But the locals weren’t celebrating.

In protest, they created life-size puppets of Bezos and his bride, seated them in a flowerless gondola with no gondolier, and placed fake banknotes around them.
The message was clear:

“We don’t want you. We don’t want your money. You can’t buy our peace and quiet.”

Perhaps one day — if the marriage fails (God forbid) — Bezos will remember the rain, and wonder if it was a curse.

He might recall the first divorce negotiations, when he gave up 25% of Amazon to his ex-wife.

He might even remember the gondola — the one he didn’t jump from — that sank him not in romance, but in the stench of the canal.