Assignment: Scavenger Hunt: The Unexpected New Paradigm
Updated: May 28
Warning: This blog post deals with a possibly triggering topic, so proceed accordingly.
Sopra-sotto, troverai lo scafo rovesciato,
Scatta una foto al teschio di Zorzi, apprezzato.
English Translation:
Upside-down, you’ll find the hull
Take a pic at Zorzi’s skull
Above is the clue Madeline and I were given for a scavenger hunt around Venice. On our last full day in Venice, we were tasked with finding this mysterious “Zorzi’s skull.” Without the crutch of Google, we interacted with Venetians to somehow attempt to figure out our clue. As we were on the hunt for Zorzi, I found something even greater: a shift in my own personal paradigm.
When Dr. Felluga first gave us our clue, he mentioned how it was “a really hard one,” making Madeleine and me slightly worried about being able to find it. Even so, we began our quest at dinner. Our waiter was very nice and spoke great English, so we decided to ask him if he knew anything about our riddle. Sadly, he did not know, but he told us he would ask his coworkers! However, his coworkers were also clueless about Zorzi and the hull.
Very similar sentiments were displayed as we asked around the next day. Two workers at a fruit stand attempted to help us with our puzzle, but they were unable to decipher it. A woman at a bookstore also read the riddle, with no luck. Just when we thought all hope was lost, we met Vera.
Vera was a student in Venice, and she was working on annotating some readings on a bench when we approached her. She was incredibly willing to help us (and to take a break from her homework). Thankfully, she recognized the upside-down hull and provided us directions. She told us to take a right at Campo Stefano and reach another campo where the hull is around Palazzo Zorzi. In hindsight, these were not correct instructions, but they were very close to where we needed to be.
Following Vera’s instructions, we turned right in Campo Stefano down a passageway and ended up in a small campo with no indication of Zorzi to be seen. Thinking Vera might have misspoke, we continued forward through campos looking for any sign of a Zorzi, but we quickly got lost as every street started to blend into each other.
Eventually, we found a beacon of hope: the word “Zorzi” on a sign. However, this sign was in a passageway that continually repeated that it was Private Property, so Madeleine and I made the executive decision not to enter. Considering the possibility that it could be entered on the other side of the building, we ventured around the perimeter of the mysterious “Zorzi” building and ended up at a small campo with two churches within it. One was repurposed to be a museum, and we thought someone in there could better direct us where we needed to go. This was not entirely true; when we asked the woman at the front desk, she provided us directions to Palazzo Zorzi, which was very far from the Accademia where Dr. Felluga hinted our object was near.
With no real help from the first church, Madeleine and I took our chances at the second church. Little did we know what we were getting ourselves into. When we first entered, ominous music blared in our ears while dark red lights saturated our vision. Guided up a ramp, we were led into a Biennale-adjacent exhibit highlighting native tribes. After spending a couple minutes in the exhibit, we asked the people running it if they could help us with our riddle, but they were not from Venice and were very confused.
Although the last people we talked to weren’t Venetian, the Venetians we did talk to were surprisingly very willing to aid us on our quest. I expected most of them to be immediately dismissive of us when we approached them speaking English. In general, however, Venetians were incredibly willing to help us, even though most were quite unsure what direction to point us in.
At first, it was apparent that the Venetians were hesitant to help us because we appeared to be tourists. In many of the interactions we had (particularly in the bookshop), I felt as if I was imposing on their day by asking them a question. However, when we explained that we are students, they became significantly more invested in our lives and our riddle. Most of them even asked us what we were studying here. Although locals are kind to tourists, there seemed to be a clear distinction in their minds about how willing they are to help them. Students, compared to tourists, were more likely to be helped.
As running from the cockfight helped Geertz connect to Balinese people, telling the Venetians we were students here “led to a sudden and unusually complete acceptance into a society extremely difficult for outsiders to penetrate” (Geertz, 59). The entire town of Venice is overwhelmed by tourists, and you could see the relief in the locals when we came to them as students rather than tourists asking for directions.
Venice is a very medieval space, and I started to truly understand that as Madeleine and I continued to venture down the streets. I felt safe in Venice; there were no cars honking or speeding past. As a very wary person, Venice was a breath of fresh air; I could finally be at peace. Madeleine and I might not have known the exact way we should have been going, but that was okay because the whole fun of Venice is to get lost. Feeling safe also allows getting lost to be a fun experience rather than a fear. Venice is secluded and isolated, so it was easy to be okay with departing from our quest because we knew everything would work out.
We were truly in a heterotopia within Venice. As Foucault writes, “Places of this kind are outside of all places, even though it may be possible to indicate their location in reality” (Foucault, 24). Staying in Venice provided me with the feeling that I was in my own separate world, just as Foucault mentioned by describing heterotopias. In this heterotopia, I was safe. I was safe from car accidents because there were no cars to worry about. I was safe from seeing people I didn’t like because I was a sea away from them. I also felt safe from creepy men: my biggest fear in this world. I was taught from a very early age to be wary of men because their intentions are unknown. The motto was always “it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
My illusion of a “safe and secure” Venice was shattered during this scavenger hunt. Madeleine and I, alone, encountered a very scary situation with a man in an alleyway. Thankfully, we made it out safe. Thoughts of the way some men treat women engrossed my mind and amplified the fear within me. Madeleine felt the same way, and we made our way back to Campo San Margherita to decompress with gelato. I became wary of every man we walked by on our way to the campo, and we called two of our male friends to join us for safety.
While we sat on the steps of the fountain, our friends began to play hacky sack with two young boys (no older than 8). All four were carefree, fun, and purely enjoying life to the fullest. They weren’t worried about anyone else in the campo; to them, it was just the hacky sack and themselves. Even after the fear Madeleine and I experienced earlier, the campo transformed into a social space filled with play, conversation, and trust. As I sat watching them, I began to notice a change in my personal paradigm.
Paradigms are taught; they aren’t innate. The beliefs that shape us are formed by what we are told and our experiences in the world. When women learn to fear men, they fear men. When men are taught that women can be treated as objects, they treat women as objects. When kids are taught the best part of their day is playing in the campo after school, they enjoy their time in the campo. Before paradigms are shaped for us, we can live with the carefree mind of a child, playing hacky sack after school.
I no longer fear men the same way as I did before. Every man is not malicious; every man does not have ill intent. While I remain wary of placing myself in potentially harmful situations, I understand that there truly is good in everyone. For every creepy man in an alleyway, there are so many more men that would much rather play hackeysack in a campo.
Although Madeleine and I never found Zorzi’s skull, the scavenger hunt changed the way I experienced Venice itself. Without Google Maps, we were forced to rely on strangers and wander through unfamiliar streets. In a postmodern world built around efficiency and instant information, Venice resists that way of living. Its winding streets and hidden campos encourage people to slow down, get lost, and interact with one another. Rather than moving through the city as tourists searching for landmarks, we became participants within the space itself. The conversations we had with Venetians, navigating unfamiliar alleyways, and even the moments of discomfort all made Venice feel more real. In the end, the scavenger hunt taught me that Venice is not a city meant to be conquered quickly or navigated perfectly; it is a city meant to be experienced.
Citations:
Foucault, Michel. “Of Other Spaces.” Diacritics 16.1 (1986): 22-27.
Geertz, Clifford. "Deep Play: Notes on the Balinese Cockfight." Daedalus 134.4 (2005): 56-86.
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