Venice – when it rains, it floods
The beauty of Ryan Air is that we got a 1p ticket (-taxes) from London to Venice (Treviso). (Note information in brackets tends to be the most important). Treviso is not actually in Venice. It is an 1hr10min bus trip from the closest Vaparetto (ferry ) stop. So at 10.30pm at night we dragged ourselves onto the bus to get ‘closer to’ town.
With the excitement of Venice on the horizon, it was hard not to be amused by the Italian pop radio station and the stretch of hookers that punctuated every service station on this road from nowhere to somewhere. We got to Plz Roma and found the canal, which had us one step closer to finding the ferry stop. There are no ticket booths open at night and certainly no machines, so we rode free. The ride into the centre was magical and eerie. We sat at the back of the ferry under the crisp night sky, past sinking mansions, regal archways, finely sculpted facades, and small boats gently lolling next to each other outside residences.
We had a dubious arrangement to meet Alberto (if that was his real name) next to the Rialto bridge at midnight – from where we would get further instructions. We found each other and Alberto and his girlfriend were keen to practise their english as they wove and wound us through little dark back streets to the Appartamento I had booked on-line (if that is where they were taking us). Luckily it was. The appartamento was only 5 minutes away on foot from the centre of Venice and yet it was in a quiet, historical buidling, away from the tourists, with neighbouring Italians, and a little church next door. Perfecto! The fact that there was no natural light in the day, the shower alternately flooded, froze and burnt us, and that the bed was two singles pushed together with a gaping chasm in the middle, did little to dampen our spirits. That was for the rain to do.
The first day was perfect – clear, crisp. We spent a long afternoon knocking back espressos and sipping G&Ts on a promenade overlooking the canal. This was our only day without rain. I buckled and bought an el-crapo umbrella and participated in the umbrella jams and near-misses and side-swipes that happened around every corner of these narrow alleys, too narrow for two umbrellas to pass without altercation. Our feet were sludgey. Our lips trembling. Our shoulders damp. But we persisted.
I did manage to see a few cultural sites. The Guggenheim collection of modern art was agreeable, the sculptures in the garden added a little magic. The Accademia collection of Baroque art was of biblical proportions and although impressive, a little dull to the non-believer. St Marco Square has a certain stone carved charisma despite the flocks of pigeons, tourists, beggars, and floating mini-orchestras (for which you get charged a 4.50 Euro ‘music surcharge’ if you are caught within a 50m radius of them).
The highlight was definitely the last night. Late dinner in a lively jazz club, then midnight walk around Rialto bridge which was ambiently desolate and just drizzling. The rain of the preceeding days left the grand canal at high tide, with petite waves lapping over the sides of the pavement whenever a ferry went by. We found a little cafe serving late night liquor (Limoncello), grabbed a seat in the wing of the bridge and watched the water-people go by. . .
Tags: Italy
Jyai