By bike between Terzo Bacino and Lagoon

If I were to tell you everything that I’ve seen around here over the years, you’d have to make sure you were sitting comfortably because it’d take a very long time. Life in these parts might seem a little dull to people who live in big cities, but I can assure you that I’ve witnessed all sorts of things that you wouldn’t even be able to imagine back there in the concrete jungle.

First of all, the appearance of the land is changed by the tides coming in and going out. There are some things that are hidden away under the water and can only be seen at certain times of day. The lagoon looks like an enormous, placid pond, but life here goes hand in hand with that in the sea. It is definitely worth leaving behind the comforts of the beach and heading off the beaten track to experience its rare, exquisite wonders.

Like the tides, the seasons follow each other in a never-ending cycle. Everyone loves coming on holiday here in the spring and summer. You can admire the vibrant colours and flowers in the picturesque meadows as you ride along the river banks. They give way to red and yellow hues in the autumn: a delightfully peaceful time of year that should not be overlooked. The same is true of winter, when the stark, unadorned landscape has its own solitary, intimate charms.

The birds come and go just like the seasons. In this part of the world, there are some that migrate and some that remain. There are all sorts of wonderful surprises in store, such as the flocks of flamingos that I saw flying over me one day.

Human beings play a role in a lot of the local stories. Some people have helped to make the fields by the river banks fertile or to shape the land, which blurs the line between the sea and the plain. Others come here to get away from it all and do a spot of fishing. They let their minds drift away as they look at the sunlight reflecting in the canals or the lagoon, and the stately swans gliding past like ships with white sails.

These silent, solitary spots can bring out anyone’s poetic side, especially when they listen to the wind: the howling, clattering Bora or the warm Sirocco that carries echoes from the desert. You might think that the wind can’t talk, but here it tells countless stories as it shakes the needles on pine branches hanging over marshland or whips up waves below white clouds that look like mountains.

The stories that I’ve told you take place over and over again, just like the tides. All that you have to do if you want to see them for yourselves is ride along the roads and the clearly marked paths, stopping occasionally to admire the scenery.

If you want to see me, take a look among the reeds. I’ll be resting there, ready to travel along the canals that lead all of the way to Venice and Trieste.