Marco Polo, The Rest Of the Story
A Geezer’s Notebook, By Jim Foster
I can’t begin to count the number of people who have begged me to write a paper on the travels of the world-renowned Venetian adventurer, Marco Polo. Well, not that many really.
The story of Marco’s voyages to China, his friendship with Kublai Khan and his adventures at the court of the great Khan are legendary. However little has been written about his life before he set out for the Orient. Therefore I would think some information covering those forgotten years would be of great interest to most historians of today.
Of course volumes were quilled about his later years. His passion for silk pyjamas and lacy underwear eventually led to the great caravans journeying along the Silk Road from Cathay to the western markets. And who hasn’t read about Marco’s fun-loving pranks with firecrackers and the infamous cherry bomb incident burning most of London to the ground? But in all the years of poring through ancient manuscripts and studying the backs of a host of Rice Krispie boxes, has anyone ever come across one word about his long-suffering wife, Maria? I don’t think so.
As far as the comely Maria knew, Marco simply disappeared for 24 years with not so much as a Christmas card let alone a cheque. We aren’t talking about some guy taking off to Buffalo with the boys to catch a Bills’ game, Marco simply vanished. I know NFL fanatics who at least come home occasionally. This is borderline desertion here.
What was Marco’s life in Venice like? Did he have a happy marriage? We may never know for sure, but we a have a good idea what was waiting for him when he arrived home some 24 years later.
It is my good fortune to have in my possession a letter from Signor Polo to his divorce lawyer that may shed some light on the quality of his home life.
January 14, 1296
Mario Mercutio LLB
Mercutio, Barzoni, Tetrazzini, Gorgonzola and Schultz
Attorneys at Law
114 Appian Way
Rome
Dear Signor Mercutio,
I understand my lawyer, Paulo Pepperoni LLB, has referred my case to your firm specializing in divorce proceedings. I am pleased to hear you personally will be representing me in the upcoming hearing. Your handling of Costanza vs Costanza – Naples 1281 was positively brilliant. Introducing those charcoal sketches of Teresa Costanza in the arms of her pool boy was sheer genius and certainly influenced the outcome in favour of your client. I understand all Teresa received in the settlement was the family villa, the house in the country, the children, the money, the investments and the aforementioned pool boy. Signor Costanza got everything else including the 9 dogs and the cemetery plot. It was unfortunate after receiving your bill he felt it necessary to throw himself under a passing gondola.
Signor Pepperoni has asked I forward the facts pertaining to the case.
I remember certain details about our wedding night; the part about waking up naked in the hotel lobby however seems to be somewhat of a blur. I remember bringing a goat to the bridal suite, but I don’t recall him butting Mrs. Polo and driving her through the headboard.
(See: Deposition of Dona Maria Lucretia Sophia Polo).
For your records, I shall attempt to fill in the facts leading to my disappearance the evening of August 6, 1271, returning Christmas morning, December 25, 1295.
Contrary to the assumption all Italian ladies are excellent cooks, Maria may be the one exception. Her lasagna, for example, was completely inedible and once cooled became as hard as granite. The Department of Roads requested her recipe to build a turnpike between Rome and Genoa. The highway proved indestructible and remains intact to this day.
The constant battle between her kitchen experiments and my colon began to have a serious effect on our lovemaking. It was difficult to concentrate on the niceties of bedroom fun and frolic once the stomach cramps took over. The gaseous explosions visiting us nightly soon turned our cosy love nest into a war zone. A number of her cookbooks were later seized by government officials and rumours she had been called before a War Crimes Tribunal may have some substance.
I loved Maria deeply and often, but her lack of culinary skills played havoc with our lives.
In an attempt to add variety to our diet and hopefully reduce the gas pains to the occasional mind-boggling burst of pure agony, I began to slip out to the local restaurants to bring home take-out. By chance one evening, I discovered a local Oriental café, Wing Low’s House of Szechwan Delights, and surprised Maria with a No. 3 (1 egg roll, Honey garlic wings, chicken w/mix vegetables and chicken fried rice — 2 lire). Both Maria and I were overwhelmed by the zesty flavours, although we found ourselves picking through the pantry less than an hour later. I began frequenting this delightful little restaurant as often as my meagre salary as an explorer’s apprentice would allow. We became adept at handling chopsticks and often laughed about the evening her mother poked her eye out.
On August 6, 1271, I recall saying, “Do you feel like Chinese?” and Maria quickly replied, “Great idea! Let’s try the kung po shrimp. I’ll set the table.”
Whether I mentioned at the time I planned to go to China and eliminate the services of Wing Low, I’m not sure. (Wing and I had a falling out over a fortune cookie predicting I would be impotent before I was old enough to vote.)
Regardless, when I returned home some 17 years, 5 months and 19 days later, Maria seemed aloof and somewhat cool to my advances. In retrospect, she may have been disappointed I had forgotten the kung po shrimp — although my 3 Oriental wives and 7 children trailing behind may also have been a factor in her hasty decision to dissolve our marriage.
Marco Polo
Mario Mercutio handled his case in his usual brilliant manner. Marco’s wife, Maria, was left almost penniless except for their villa, the house in the country, the children, the money, the investments and Teresa Costanza’s pool boy. Marco got everything else including the 9 dogs and the cemetery plot. When last seen Marco was floating face down in the path of a speeding gondola.
(Image Supplied)
