Grandmothers are similar in some ways regardless of their ethnicities or languages spoken.
This image was taken on the 3rd day and I was hoping to surreptitiously take a picture of this woman that I was observing for ten minutes, who was watching us, (not just us the Venice Six or the Marist artist group that we are members of for this month, but all the hub ub of U>-+<S: tourists, stroll-ers, families hanging on the corner by one of Venice's 365 bridges), she was watching the whole of us in another evening of the chilling out before finishing our days with dinner
I noticed that the Venetian grandmothers are just like the general impressions filmmakers have conveyed of Italian ones: women in housecoats in a window or doorway maybe with a cigarette (or not) but always with a watchful eye towards... us? Their street maybe? Their friends or families that may be in our crowd that they keep abreast of or safe. It is uncertain.
I see they are very intent about what lies before them.
So I am like a birdwatcher getting my little point and shoot, steadily, slowly. Just as I am ready to click--- darn. Well she catches me. Just like she probably catches everything else that happens in a 100' radius of where she lives between 6am and her calling it in for the night.
You may note: she is not very happy with me. I smile in apology certain that I am adding yet another layer of idiota tourista to her understandings... of us.
My grandmother did the same thing in Flushing,Queens
on Ash Ave near Kissena Boulevard where I grew up through warm summer evenings.