wow - interesting start to your report. Intriguing, to say the least.

Hello there Peter, wishing you, your dear wife and mother-in-law a wonderful time in Venice and of course the two ladies lots of fun when they take their side trip for some days.

I wish I could join you in Venice for a glass of two of Prosecco. Cheers!

t

Oh, good, you're going to take us along for the ride!

I due gatti dicono "Buongiorno". Loro sono troppo grasso!! (Just kidding.) Oggi, piove.

ciao Peter.

looking forward to more - are we there yet?

I'm happy you're doing another Venice blog, so I can enjoy your adventures too. You're staying in the same apartment as last time?

So we Emirated our way across the globe, fetching up at about 45deg 15m N, 12deg 19m E, in Venice, arriving in real style per taxi, threading our way through the Rio di Santa Giustina (sound horn at the intersection with the Rio di San Francesco), the Rio di San Lorenzo which gives a good view of crumbling foundations, and the Rio dei Greci. And then that complete knock out sight, as we entered the Grand Canal, Ducal Palace and the Campanile to starboard, and the Chiesa di Santa Maria della Salute to port. There’s a line in “Wind in the Willows” – “There’s nothing so worthwhile as simply messing about in boats”, and Venice has taken this to heart. The Grand Canal is full of people simply messing about in boats. Gondolas, police boats, workboats, ambulances, waterbuses, water taxis, the lot.

Upstream under the temporary bridge with traffic lights erected across the Grand Canal to the Salute for the 21st November festival, and disembark at the Ca’ Rezzonico. I can’t really claim to have returned like Marco Polo, if for no other reason that we lacked his cargo of silks and spices, but it did feel pretty special. Stroll down Calle Lunga with no bridges to cross, a blessing as we are travelling pretty heavy, and we’ve arrived. Same place as last time, up a tight spiral staircase, and we’re here.

We (that’s Lou and I) came here for eight weeks in late December 2008 , so we sort of know Venice, or we like to think that we know Venice about as well as non-Venetians can. We’ve brought Lou’s mother with us, a sprightly lass, and it’s her first real visit to Venice. We’ve left the home, cats and goldfish in the charge of another Venetian enthusiast, Yvonne from Atherton, and run away.

Sunday, 21st November, and it’s the festival of the Salute. This festival commemorates the delivery of Venice from plague in 1630, and the citizens were so thankful (after repeatedly praying to Mary for deliverance) that they erected a church. “Erected a church” is an understatement. The Chiesa Santa Maria della Salute took some 57 years to complete, and rests on a raft of wooden piles, 1,156,672 piles, so the documents claim. But show me a contractor that never exaggerated the work done to the Quantity Surveyor when compiling a progress claim, or who ensured that there was no double counting of work achieved. It would have taken the most dedicated QS to keep count, but that’s what the “as constructed ” docs claim. And I can just see the piling contractor rubbing out the QS’s chalk marks on counted piles. Venetians historically have mostly been on the right side of a contract.

So the Festival dawned in fine Venetian style, crowds of people crossing on the temporary bridge - which used to be built on a raft of boats, collapsing in style in the 1930’s, precipitating many, including the English eccentric, Sir Osbert Siswell, into the Grand Canal. I can imagine Osbert’s conversation with a chum at a club in Pall Mall.
“Doing anything much for a crust these days?”
“I’m in the City, and it seems to keep me busy. And you?”
“Oh, a spot of gardening at Sissinghurst, pulling the occasional weed. After doing Greats at Magdalene I found myself at a loose end, so I thought that the only career for a gent was to be an eccentric. It’s been pretty satisfying, Venice, all that stuff. Same again?”

So the 2010 bridge is a more substantial affair, substantial prefabricated steel, on substantial floats, secured by substantial piles knocked into the canal. Loads of people, candles about a metre long on sale (3 euro per), kids with balloons, Mass being said on what seemed a continual basis, and an absolute conflagration of candles in the church. A fine Venetian affair not dampened one bit by the rain that fell for most of the day. I always wonder about candles in churches, with works by Titian, and Tintoretto seeing their fair share of candle grease. But given that the smoke has been happening for 450 years, maybe everyone has become used to it, and it keeps restorers in business.

Returning here has a certain intimacy, and Venice is an intimate city – the fact that a cruise liner can disgorge 2000 souls somehow does not detract from the intimacy. So we stood on the balcony yesterday morning thinking “within a few minutes, the shutters will go up on the apartment down the way, and the woman of the house will let her cat out”. Sure enough, the cat was let out a few minutes later. A bit further away, a woman has hung her washing from her window – it looks like the same laundry, and a piece of fabric the size of a small circus tent. We’ve seen it all before, and it feels homely.

The intimacy extends to people that we don’t even know – I’d established a certain relationship two years ago with the guy at 2688B Calle Lunga San Barnaba, as he leant out the window and fired up his morning hazard to health, and we’d exchanged some “buongiorno’s”. We saw the Ambulanza come yesterday and carry him out, and we hope he is OK. We’re not close enough to say anything to his wife – we’re outsiders in this situation. But I can bet that half the street knows that there’s a problem – Venetians are notoriously nosey.

Keep it coming, Pietro, you're painting an interesting and colourful canvas, thank you. I sure hope your neighbour will be OK.

Hi Yvonne, the neighbour is home, not yet firing up smokes from his window, but one lives in hope.

I've been a little diverted - catching up on some old stuff:
http://www.fodors.com/community/australia-the-pacific/australian-road-trip.cfm

"Emirated our way across the globe" Love it!

Enchanting report. I look forward to continuing the journey right alongside you!

Long sigh.... thank you Peter for this. I so need a Venice fix...

Grazie Peter for allowing us to join you in Venezia!

I don’t get it. You could walk down Calle lunga San Barnaba with a lit candle in your hand, and then you walk into a gale just before reaching Campo Ditto. Boeing could cart their model aircraft to Campo San Barnaba for wind tunnel tests, and have a spritz at the Ai Artisti while the tests are done. One can measure damage by the number of winged umbrellas that proceed towards Academe, and the handful of umbrellas that are in the Campo San Barnaba rubbish bin. It is a graveyard for umbrellas.

Which is a most roundabout way of saying that it’s been wet. Windy too.

Yesterday I went to Vicenza, to sight some Palladian architecture. I like it, and yet at the same time, it’s almost clichéd. Palladio certainly discovered the knack of creating fine facades. I’ve seen drawings of many of them, and they do all follow a style, a certain form. The form that he found certainly found favour with the wealthier clients of Vicenza, he was THE architect du jour.

But one thing that I discovered, which I’d known nothing about, was the theatre that Palladio designed, modelled on the streets of Thebes. The gallery is semi-circular, a proscenium arch, and behind that are a set of seven trompe l’whatever streets running off to backstage. No matter where you sit, you can’t get a sight up all the streets at the same time, and it is most realistic. At the time that the theatre opened, it caused a sensation. Palladio was a stonemason by trade, and his drafting skill allowed him to become a brilliant architect. A bit like Charlie Mason, a bakers son, becoming the lead astronomer of his day, joining the Royal Society after surveying the Mason Dixon line. Interesting how there was such flexibility - birth was no barrier to brilliance.

The train trip to Vicenza was good – belting across the flat plains of the Veneto, and the fields covered by a light dusting of snow, past the shipyard cranes at Marghera, that look for all the world like fighting machines from “War of the Worlds”, but controlled by Venetians rather than Martians. Freezing, crisp and sunny in Vicenza. About 40 minutes on the train, and 13 euro each way.

The train was joined in Mestre by a couple of professional teenaged begging boys. They stroll down the car, placing their business card on each table. My Italian is not good, but I think the cards say something like “I am broke. I need money. Please give me some of yours”. They then strolled through again shortly before Padua, retrieving their cards and I suspect little money. They did the same performance on my return, with similar success.

I think that the begging industry took a significant hit in my eyes last Sunday, when I sighted a beggar near Academe finish sending an SMS, pocket the phone, and start on that “Alms for the love of God, Mary, Jesus, Joseph, San Sebastian, San Marco and I have to pay the web page designer account” caper that one hears on the streets. That particular woman – there are no men in the trade – picks a spot where she will certainly be in the rain, to elicit sympathy. I’ve seen her getting off the train from Mestre in the morning with a gaggle of fellow travellers, and she looked for all the world like any other commuter travelling to work.

excellent writing

What stuff costs.
People are often interested in the costs of things in Italy, so some current prices, courtesy of Billa on the Zattere (all prices in euro):
Merlot – per bottle, and pretty drinkable. 2.99
Baileys Irish Cream – 13.49
Smirnoff vodka – 8.49
(Getting the message where our purchasing priorities lie?)

We ate at La Bitta, Calle lunga San Barnaba, Dorsoduro 2753. One and a half entrées (starters for the American brethren as we were three) of artichoke salad, plus leg of goose for three, plus a bottle of the house Merlot – 89 euro, including service etc. Artichoke salad is great – we’ll have to try cooking that. Artichokes the size of a golf ball, lightly cooked, with lettuce. Goose is good too, very meaty, a cross between poultry and red meat, and I’ve never eaten goose before. It’s hard to buy – in fact I’ve never seen it in Melbourne.

Interesting with the wine. “Here’s the bottle, but if you don’t drink it all, we’ll just charge by the glass.” “La Bitta” means mooring bitts, for securing a ship. But they don’t do fish. Go figure – I think it’s just a Venetian take on life, or maybe they think that fish places are a dime a dozen in Venice, and so they differentiate themselves. The meal was excellent – the goose just falling off the bone, served with polenta. (How come my spell checker offers “polestar”, for polenta.)

Everyone complains of Italian beauracracy, and we’ve had our first taste of it, and it was painless. The other morning, Lou and I obtained our Carte Venezia, our resident’s card, and they are good for five years! We are almost honorary Venetians! These give us cheap vaporetto tickets – 1.10 euro instead of the 6.50 that casual users have to pay – proof conclusive, I suppose, that Venice continues the time-honoured tradition of slugging tourists, a practice that started around the First Crusade and continues unabated to this day. The whole Carte Venezia process was pretty painless, hand over 40 euro to the young lady behind the counter (who is visiting Australia in January, and we’re Aussies, so there’s a connection and great service), and walk out with electronic cards loaded with twenty ferry rides, that make us feel a little bit Venetian. Total time – about twenty minutes.

If only I spoke a little of the language …

If only I spoke a little of the language …>>

I'm sure you're being too modest. and if you started, you would discover how many words are the same [or almost] as English - thousands. I'm sure that I have read that there is a language school in Venice - why not go and have some lessons? go on, you know you want to!

There's a wonderful article in today's NY Times travel section, entitled "Venice in Winter," which I'm sure everyone will enjoy. I'm electronically challenged, so I can't direct you to it. Hopefully, someone else can.
We especially enjoyed the article for the same reason we are enjoying this thread....We were in Venice the same time of the year and loved it!

We visited the Frari a few days ago. I find the Frari pretty special, pure soaring Gothic, take your breath away. It’s a bit of a bizarre thing, strolling around inside a church where you can’t easily avoid stepping on the gravestone of various serious Venetian gentlemen. There’s also a pretty bizarre monument to Doge Pesaro – four Moors carrying the white man’s burden, a crazy monument, with a little Doge Pesaro at the top, completely overwhelmed by the African gentlemen. Maybe it was meant as an economic statement – once the African trade routes were opened up, courtesy of Magellan et al, Venice’s role as the main point of trade with the Orient was in decline. Certainly the muscular Moors are not in decline, shouldering the burden of Doge Pesaro.

There’s a fine painting close by of the Pesaro family in conversation with the Madonna and Saint Peter, by Titian. The thing that strikes me is that everyone is concentrated on St Peter or the Madonna – except young Lunardo Pesaro, who looks at, confronts, the viewer. He was to inherit the family fortune, and looks like he knows that it’s coming his way, and so he’s concentrated on more temporal than heavenly things.

Titian’s Assumption is surely one of the great works of art in Venice, and Titian was so well regarded that when he died of plague, was not buried in a mass grave. He’s buried in the Frari, and Canova sculpted an Assumption (with a few notables included, who likely funded the work) in honour of Titian. Canova’s pupils, in turn, created the pyramid monument to Canova in the Frari, which is said to contain his heart. The balance of Canova is buried at Possagno, including his right hand, which rested in the Academe for some time – it has recently been reunited with the rest of Canova.

The Canova monument is either liked or disliked – some find it clichéd, others find it hauntingly beautiful. Include me in the latter group – it makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

Peter, I believe that la bitta is the restaurant that we debated at length last time - along calle lunga san barbara - which serves no fish. DS still raves about the dish he had - hunks of meat swimming in a sea of polenta.

i realise that my last post sounded a little - well, not quite right. apologies. my enthusiasm for Italian sometimes gets the better of me.

The Canova monument is either liked or disliked – some find it clichéd, others find it hauntingly beautiful. Include me in the latter group – it makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck. >>

and mine - though not in a nice way - I'm afraid I'm in the other camp. those mausolea are to my mind most bizarre - especially that other one that you mention with the moors. [or should that be Moors?] though I agree entirely about the Titian, and i love the screen, I enjoy the Scuola di san Rocco next door far more - love him or hate him, Tintoretto certainly could paint.

Oh, good - you are there...answers the question I asked on the other thread!

Reading along.....

"(How come my spell checker offers “polestar”, for polenta.)"

At least it didn't offer "polecat"

And, here's the link to the article HowardR mentioned:

http://travel.nytimes.com/2010/11/28/travel/28Venice.html?ref=travel

I admire, like, love, etc. anything Canova. Have you seen his studio and temple in Passagno? You get there via Bassano (train), then a short bus ride.

Keep the updates flowing, please.

Oh, Peter, how I love your reports. So full of interesting significant trivia.... I remember now that YOU are the one whose reports will help me get my dear Mr. TT back to Venice, because he seems to think we've seen all there is to see. (in one week mind you!) So, thanks in advance, and keep on!

Hi Peter - I just "happened" into your post and have gotten excited by reading it! I'll be in Venice for the first time in just over 2 weeks.... staying in Dosoduro (sp)... So, looking forward to hearing more... ciao

Hello HowardR, unless you have a Mac which I know nothing about here is how you can post a website address such as the NY Times Travel article regarding Venice. When you have clicked on that website up at the top of your screen you will see the website "address". Click the right of your mouse which will cause the website address to turn blue. Click "copy" and than go here to Fodor's to start your post and when you post click the right side of your mouse and click "paste". The website address which you wish to share will show up on your post. Once you click "Submit" the website address will show up in the blue color and any Fodorite can click it on and see the website you wanted to share. I hope I have explained this in a way that makes sense. Best regards.

Hi Ann,
Lou did some serious Italian via the Open University from Adelaide in Aus, and did pretty well. A couple of semesters, credits and all that. For a while our house was like a visual dictionary, labels in Italian stuck onto various household effects, and I could not get much conversation from Lou unless I was prepared to go with the Italian.

“Can you pick some prezzomolo and basillico while you’re out there?” – that sort of stuff.

I realise that I’ve come to know more than I thought by this process of osmosis.

Cheers

Peter

Monday 29th November, and Venice really turned it, an absolute pearler of a day, sunny, clear after what seems the traditional morning shower and mist, not too cold, and aqua alta nothing to speak of. San Giorgio Maggiore appearing as the sun burned off the mist, a JMW Turner kind of day. I don’t know what it is about the light here, maybe it’s to do with the water reflecting light onto buildings, and in turn being reflected back, but it’s pretty special.

The street artists were out in force – rain for the last few days has put a real dampener on watercolourists. There’s one particular guy who we encountered last time, and I spotted him before he spotted me. He paints particularly execrable Venetian scenes, with a palette limited, I think, to cadmium yellow and Payne’s grey, possibly those colours were on saldi at his supplier. Pieces fit only to hang in an outhouse if one does not have indoor plumbing. He’s no Turner, unless he’s recently left his lathe.

Last time, he bailed us at the Guggenheim, explaining amongst other things, that he was the only painter that captured the real Venice, that he was an Art lecturer in Milan or maybe Padua, Vicenza or somewhere else as it got a bit confusing, that he did not have to do this for a living, and that’s 20 euro, while batting aside a child who seemed to be interfering with his patter.

We bought the “work” in order to shut him up, as he seemed about to explain that they would, within the next few weeks, hang him in the Tate. Lacking an outhouse, our purchase is lying in a drawer somewhere in Melbourne.

I took a stroll the Campo Bandiera e Morro, named for a pair of revolutionaries in the 1840’s or 50’s, who started a little uprising in the red handkerchief around the neck, white shirt, great rhetoric and songs kind of fashion that was later to appeal to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Sadly both Bandiera e Morro were hanged for their trouble, and Daniel Manin had not much more success, being exiled for his trouble. Oh, the joys of revolution. There’s a left over cannon ball, courtesy of the siege of Venice and the Hapsburgs, bricked into the wall of our apartment.

Bandiera e Moro had, of course, a SECRET SOCIETY, as did many others in those pre-Wikileaks days. I can just imagine the discussion for the password for their secret meetings.
Liberty!
Fraternity!
Equality!
Dump the Austrians!
Oh stuff it; lets just make it “Gondola”. Everyone knows that.
OK, sounds like a plan.

I took a long walk down to the east end of Castello – Castello is not so much frequented by tourists, no glass shops selling Murano or Taipei glassware, a paucity of Prada outlets. Castello has a local feel to it, populated by, as Rick Steves would put it, “Real Venetians”. I’d imagine it is a different sight when the Bienalle is happening, though, and the church of San Pietro, with its rather spooky cloister gets to me. The seat of religious power before the centre of gravity moved west to San Marco.

I was keen to see a monument on the Canale di San Marco which was under restoration two years ago when I last looked. It’s right beside the Biennale gardens, in the water, just upstream from the Giardini waterbus stop. It commemorates women who have lost their lives in war, and the symbolism, while obvious, can also move one. A figure of a woman washed in the waters of the lagoon. We Australians have been fortunate, we’ve had few civilian casualties in war, and I think the figure in the water speaks for all the civilians in Europe who have lost their lives.

I took a long walk down to the east end of Castello – Castello is not so much frequented by tourists, no glass shops selling Murano or Taipei glassware, a paucity of Prada outlets. >>

we liked exploring that area too, Peter. on our last trip back from the islands, we got off the boat at Giardino and walked back through "normal" streets, with ordinary goods in shops asking half-way normal prices. Who would be a "local" living in Venice?

we didn't find your statue though. do you know how long she's been there?

Anne, the statue has been there for maybe ten years, as I recollect seeing it in the National Geographic guide to Venice printed around 1999. (That's one of the best guides to Venice I've ever seen).

From the path beside the Giardini Publice, the statue mostly appears as a group of square stones. The woman is pretty well immersed in the lagoon. Appropriate, I suppose, as it is about the invisibility of civilian casualties.

Well, Palladian architecture would seem "cliched" as architects have been copying him for 500 years!

Have you made it to San Francesco della Vigna, near Celestia vaporetto station? Palladio had a hand there, and the beautiful church and cloister were empty in July. Isn't it wonderful how easy it is to get away from fellow tourists in Venice?

I decided that today I should explore down the food chain, discover where the artichokes come from, so took voyage to Sant’ Erasmo. It’s pretty quiet there, almost like walking through an abandoned film set. The occasional cyclist, a few of those Vespa three wheeled vans, and some Fiat two stroke cars, and not a lot else. I’m not sure what I expected, a bit more action maybe, which was somewhat far fetched. It is winter, after all, but there are fields of artichokes.

I got lucky – I missed the ferry to Sant’ Erasmo by minutes, and so had time to visit the Gesuiti around the corner from the Fond. Nuove. The Gesuiti is really one of a kind – a complete marble interior. If you think that St Peters in Rome is elaborately carved, then you are in for a surprise if you visit the Gesuiti. One looks at the drapes over the pulpit, thinking “I hope they can keep the moths from eating that fabric”, and then you realise that they are carved marble. It is really only the slight sheen on the stone that gives them away. It’s brilliant and Ann, I owe you thanks for telling about this marble confection.

And I saw an Ambulanza blast out from the canal beside the hospital, lights and sirens, full noise as it thrashed its way across the lagoon towards Murano. The Dolomites in the background being just touched by the sun.

Sant’ Erasmo to Burano, with lace shops a’plenty. I don’t think that there are that many lace makers on Burano, certainly not enough for the quantities on sale, and so some of that lace will likely have more Oriental origins. On foot over to Mazzorbo, take on caffeine and wait for the ferry. People seem to materialise when the ferry is due, stand around nattering and chuck their cigarette ends in the canal as the ferry docks. The campanile on Torcello looks, from a long distance, as if it has grown a coat of fur. When a bit closer, you can see that the fur is actually scaffold, and the scaffold has been up for at least two years.

In the next life, I want to be reincarnated as a Venetian scaffolding contractor. It’s got to fantastically lucrative. Sure, hard to erect, but once it’s up, you can be pretty certain of getting some years of hiring fees for the scaffold before stripping it. And maybe a few euro on the side for charging for advertising space on it. Yep, Pietro al’ Scaffoldo has a nice ring to it.

San Marco has serious scaffolding on the north side, along half of the Procuratie Vecchie, which will be causing grief, along with the aqua alta, to Quadri’s. Those white coated waiters might be a tad grumpy. Work continues on the Campanile, and is likely to go on for ages, ages being measured in at least demi-decades.

One of my cherished beliefs about Venice was trashed in the Piazza – an actual motorised vehicle, towing a skip of rubble towards the Molo from the works on the Campanile. Moving very slowly, leaving confused tourists in its wake. Maybe none of us expected to see motorised wheels. In Australia, part of the contract conditions would be a dedicated, tourist free, path from the site to the Molo, with an adjacent concrete batching plant, and the Works would be completed in about twelve months. They do things differently in Italy.

There’s something of a conundrum with travelling, visiting, touring. The purpose of travel is to see things that are different from home, wherever home is. And yet if one says that “that’s not the way it’s done in my country”, then there tends to be criticism. It’s OK to notice that things are different, but better not to comment on them. Small examples – builders using pulley and rope to lift loads – outlawed in Aus by our Occ Health and Safety authorities, as it’s dangerous. Not a single life jacket being worn buy all those guys messing about in boats. Complete lack of floatation aids on the traghettos. Guys erecting Christmas lights from a cherry picker in Vicenza without wearing safety harnesses and with no pedestrian diversion. I chair our company’s OHS Committee, so I notice these things.

Yet I can’t be critical. In spite of the apparent chaos, Italy seems to get on pretty well. It’s the way things are done here.

The lagoon is populated, Loch Ness style, with monsters. Monsters in the shape of backhoes on barges, and they, along with suction dredges, fight a continual battle with silt. On the short trip from Fond. Nuove to Sant’ Erasmo, I must have counted a dozen working, and as many idle. I suppose it is work like this that makes Venice expensive to maintain, and also to visit. The ferry service runs like clockwork – so long as the dredging is maintained – and navigation at night must be tricky. Another little point of difference –in my home town of Melbourne, the last trains and trams run at about mid-night. In Venice, the “N” – Notturna – ferry completes its last run at about 2:30 AM. That’s pretty good service for the people who live on the outlying islands.

wow, what an absolutely gorgeous trip report. I'm going to Venice for the first time in September and while it's not November, hopefully I'll be able to experience a bit of this atmosphere, too. This is definitely one that I'm printing out every word. Can't wait to read the rest.

Peter, I am so pleased that you enjoyed the Gesuiti as much as we did. finally I have introduced you to something in venice, rather than the other way round!

you have however beaten me to Sant' Erasmo. Strangely it featured briefly in the last Venice-set novel that i read [forgotten the name of it, sorry] so i would quite like to go and have a look - but perhaps not in late November. I do love Torcello in the winter though - as we left we could see the Dolomites in the distance, which was just beautiful. [I said this to my italian teacher, and I don't think she beleived me - she is from Ischia though!]

the Venetian night boats compare extremely well to our local ferries in Cornwall - the last ones to/from Falmouth to Flushing and St. Mawes leave at about 6pm. no late night carrousing for us [well, not by boat]. however in nearby Fowey, the last one back to Polruan goes at about 11pm, which is rather better. 2am though - forget it!

hikrchick, while you're waiting for Pietro to add more, in his unique style, have a read of a previous report he offered:

http://www.fodors.com/community/europe/venice-trip-report-warning-im-most-verbose.cfm

(Signed: his agent when he publishes!)

In many ways, Venice could be a pretty tough town to live in. Visitors don’t see so much of the difficulties, although I saw three women dragging suitcases the size of small refrigerators along the Merceria the other day. I think they’d had problems finding their hotel and the comment from one was “I’m ready to burn Venice right now!”

And of course, the visitors make it hard for the locals. Strolling across the walkways in the flooded Piazza the other day, a group stopped to take photos. Escalating cries of “Scusi”, “Permesso” and finally “Avanti!” – the locals needed to get through to the dry Molo. The response from the visitor was interesting – “Who the hell is she?” Visitors maybe think that the walkways are erected for their exclusive convenience, but all Venetians need them.

Venice both exists on, and suffers from, the visitors – and this is a quiet time in terms of visitors. Summer must be horrible.

Our closest supermarket, Billa on the Zattere, is five minutes, plus one bridge away. The better supermarket (COOP) is at Piazzale Roma, and that’s fifteen or twenty minutes, and half a dozen bridges. Heavy stuff (wine!) comes from Billa, and we take the trouble to get to COOP because the range is better and prices slightly lower. Now the interesting thing – we drive to the supermarket in Melbourne, or take my Vespa with limited carrying capacity – and park as close to the door as we can. Most others do too. Would we park fifteen minutes and half a dozen bridges away from the supermarket in Melbourne? Nope, we’d think that was a bridge too far.

Yet when we go camping, we drag our kit through a river to get away from other people. It’s amazing what we’ll do when we are having fun. http://www.fodors.com/community/fodorite-lounge/drifting-out-an-idea-camping-in-australia.cfm refers.

Things that I would find unamusing at home become part of life. We are staying in an apartment, and the facilities include a shopping trolley. It failed the other day, as the axle had rusted through, seeing too much salt aqua alta. No big deal – buy a new one, only fifteen euro, a donation to the apartment when we leave. But at home, we’d think that was unreasonable.

The thing that makes it all interesting is that we’ve spent a bit of time here, and so we can see the small changes. Bits of pavement that were dug up two years ago have been replaced, the scaffold on the Torcello campanile is still in place, they’ve commenced some works on the roof over the way, the guy over the road is home from hospital. They pour me a spritz of an evening at the local bar without my asking.

All small things in the grand scheme of the cosmos, but nice. And I can get around without using a map much. Now that’s grand.

Annhig, Monumento alla Partigiana Veneta (La Partigiana for short), the monument referred to by Peter, was inaugurated in 1969. It had been under restoration, but was re-inaugurated on 6 June 2009. The statue is by Augusto Murer, on a floating base designed by Carlo Scarpa.

Ah - this is so enjoyable Peter!

I am really tempted to take up the Qantas double status credits offer that turned up in my email box yesterday and run off to Venice for all of January - but doubt that will happen.

So - I enjoy reading your thoughts, insights and commentary - and store them away for the time when the running away might just be possible.

I too reflect on the way we walk long distances, use public transport and willingly carry goods from supermarkets and small shops when we are staying in Europe - and yet here I am thinking it is too much trouble to go to the supermarket today because there is some event on and I might not be able to park without waiting ten extra minutes!

Second of December, and time to rattle the other end of the food chain, the one that’s about fish. So I took myself over to Chioggia yesterday. Chioggia might not be everyone’s cup of chi, but I enjoyed it. It’s pretty easy to get to – ferry to the lido, then the No 11 bus, which travels right down through Malamocco, to Alberoni. The bus drives onto the ferry, which goes to Pellestrina, right to the end, at the Pellestrina Cimetro, and then a ferry takes you to Chioggia. There are two buses that run in tandem, only the first goes onto the ferry at Malamocco, so if you take the trip, then the first bus is a good idea. The whole trip is one and a quarter hours. It’s not that scenic – mostly the road runs beside the sea wall, which, although a pretty amazing feat of engineering, completely blocks any view of the Adriatic. At the start of the journey, the bus goes past the beach at the Lido, countless little beach huts, looking like a rather well organised kraal, but a tad desolate in early December. I can’t help but see the contrast with Australia – we don’t have private beaches, so stake out your little patch of sand with a beach umbrella and a towel. A cooler of beer is a viable addition.

I stayed at Caldin’s Hotel, 55 euro for a room, and the heating was on full blast and most welcome. They don’t do breakfast – I’m a bit over hotel breakfasts in Italy, as they don’t seem to be good value – but the bar around the corner does the regulation cappuccino and brioche for two euro. And I ate at a waterfront trattoria, a plate of fritto misto, with fish, scallops, octopus and calamari, chips and wine for eighteen euro, including service. Good value, in a family run place, the owner’s little girl completing a jig-saw puzzle. Brava!

A couple of bonus things this morning. Watching the fleet get underway and head out – a crowded dock emptying itself in the pre-dawn hours. I remember watching the tuna fleet head out from Eden in southeast Australia years ago. We were sailing up to Sydney for the start of the Hobart race, smashed some rigging, and pulled into Eden for repairs. Anyone who thinks that tuna boats run on diesel fuel oil has got it wrong – the Eden fleet runs on beer, bunkered prior to sailing. Just about every crewman from the fleet was in the pub, and it was insane. Six or eight people at the bar on stools – or they were on stools until a guy strolled along, throwing them backwards in turn, drinks and all. This signalled the publican to appear with his Alsatian dog, barking its head off, to clear the bar. The unfortunate dog was on the receiving end of a couple of jugs of beer, reducing it to a whimpering wreck, particularly when the jugs followed the contents. The publican called ”Last Drinks”, and the fleet sailed.

The Chioggia fleet departed in a more sedate fashion, or maybe it’s the difference between early morning and late night – I like being around morning people, there’s always a sense of quiet. Maybe that’s why they exercise thoroughbred horses in the early hours. So the Chioggia early morning routine is a coffee and maybe a grappa or two to hold off the chill, stroll across the waterfront, let go fore and aft, and head out.

The whole main street of Chioggia is given over to a street market on Thursdays. Mostly clothing, but kitchen utensils, shoes, shopping trolleys, coffee makers, some cheese and sausages, and it is huge. It gives the lie to the oft-held opinion the “Italy is hopelessly organised”. The stalls were all in pre-ordained positions, and most comprised vans with huge, electrically erected, awnings. Park van, use remote control to open and erect awning – I’ve never seen them before. A little aqua alta to promote the sale of rubber boots, but nothing much to speak of. From end to end, the market must be about 500 metres, and there must be some sort of circuit that the market traders follow, from town to town.

There’s the fishing boat canal through Chioggia, and another that runs parallel, the one that features in photos. If you go there right now and expect to see it, you may be disappointed – the lagoon end has been filled in for 100 metres, and there is major work being done to restore the canal. It will be pretty special once it is completed, and there are other works being done there as well. There may be a euro crisis, but these public works still continue, and they are quite something. The hoardings around the construction works are fun – blown up photos from the 1930’s, showing sailing boats in the canal. A few years ago, there was a big stink in Melbourne when the city authorities imported a team of Italian masons to lay stone in Carlton. Melbourne’s apology for Little Italy – “what, don’t we have any decent masons?” (I have it on good authority that a second hand concrete batching plant has been converted in Carlton to make Bolognese sauce. In bulk – it is that bad.) The masons on the job at Chioggia are doing fine work, and it is something I notice all over the place – the care, what one may call love, that goes into so much work here.

The canal runs beside the fish market, a slightly smaller of the Venice market, with dozens of three wheeled motor trucks pulled up close by, with little refrigerated boxes on the back. I’ve been looking all over for razor clams, which we love, and have not seen them yet – maybe they are not in season, or the tide is not right for digging them. But there’s every other sort of marine vertebrate and invertebrate on sale. Including eel. Wich I do not love.

Back across the lagoon this morning, per ferry and bus. No rain, but a heavy mist, fishing huts appearing and vaporising, slight view of the Mose works at the entrances, dodge a Panamanian container ship at the Malomocco entrance, with the ship being in ballast. If it was at full draft, it may well have emulated Pepin’s fleet that was grounded near Malomocco in AD 809.

And to close on two nautical themes, or at least a nautical and a water theme, after all Venice is all about water. The water theme - Guiseppe, who represents the American owner of our apartment, just called by to kindly tell me that the tide tomorrow will be 135 cm at 8:30 tomorrow morning, and that’s the highest yet this year. That will have the sirens wailing at about 5:30 AM.

And the nautical note. There were a couple of naval officers in my favourite bar this evening. They were in full dress, epaulettes, shoes polished to within an inch of their lives, short naval daggers on golden chains, and they put on their long boat cloaks as they left. Talk about cute!

I tell you, if those young ladies served in the Australian Navy, our recruitment problems would disappear tomorrow.

enjoying your on-the-spot report!

Loved reading this info...I'm a foodie...throw in venetian restaurants that are a must. cannot wait!!! You are really making this so exciting for future visitors...thank you!!!

Wonderful to read that you are back.

Re the mention of the Venice in Winter article in the NYT, did anyone also see the mention of Watermark by Joseph Brodsky? A prose-poem about Venice. The NYT writer really raved about it. This is all unknown territory for me and I have it on order from Amazon. Anyone read it? Any comments?

Liberty!
Fraternity!
Equality!
Dump the Austrians!
Oh stuff it; lets just make it “Gondola”. Everyone knows that.
OK, sounds like a plan.


Too funny, Peter!!!

I am absolutely loving your report and taking notes for my next visit. I love Venice, anyway, but seeing it through your eyes is a quite different (yet, lovely) trip! Grazie!!

Looking forward to more.

Friday morning, sirens at 5:00 AM, four tones, do, re, mi, fa, meaning the aqua will be, well, alta. As it was, at 8:30 when I headed out, rubber booted. Eight inches of water in our foyer, but the washing machine is well elevated, two inches of water in the local bar, the Ai Artisti, chairs on the tables, but otherwise business as usual, cappuccino e’ brioche, 2.10 euro, which is the same price as it was two years ago. Campo San Barnaba with about six inches of water in it, and the people at the hairdressers all wearing their rubber boots.

Water in the bakery, but the ovens are above the waterline, so baking continues. Sump pumps churning, mostly pumping the water around in a circle, and deliveries not happening too easily, as boats can’t get under the bridges. It’s funny, you don’t hear any conversation about aqua alta, nobody is saying “Well, it’s pretty alta today” – it’s all just part of Venetian life. Closer to San Marco, it must be tricky, as it is lower there – and a few inches makes all the difference, whether the water stays below the Plimsoll line on your boots and you have dry feet – or you founder. A lot of people have thigh length waders, stand around the campo and read the local paper.

I thought the naval officers were men until you mentioned "young ladies." We found the female carabiniere officers in Florence to be equally gorgeously attired, with flowing waist length hair. British police and military personnel seem to follow different dress codes altogether!

There are some excellent photos of the aqua alta in The Telegraph online today.

lot of people have thigh length waders, stand around the campo and read the local paper.>>

sounds like a look that might catch on.

I bought some very cheap and fetching boots for DD when I was in Venice a few years ago. she's been complaining that they have worn out - excuse for another trip?

I sloshed around Venice in my stylish €15 knee high boots last weekend. Rather fun actually.

The Italian government, like that of the UK, is cutting funding for education, and the local students are not amused. Street demonstrations planned for Rome on the 15th December, and placards advertising the demonstrations are appearing in Venice. We are near a couple of the campuses of the University Foscari, and so we’ve seen a few preliminary rallies. If these are training rallies for the Rome event, then Rome will be pretty tame. Essential equipment for Venice rallies seems to be a packet of smokes, rubber boots, an iPod and a tray of spritzes to go, esporto per favore, in plastic cups.

I took a stroll through the Ghetto yesterday, and it’s pretty quiet. The kiosk was attended by the regulation two guards, and the main hazard for those guys would seem to be boredom. They were keeping themselves amused by playing cards, the aqua alta having reduced the crowds. It’s funny seeing Kosher gelato on sale, and the sign indicating that one does not break the Sabbath by waving one’s hand in front of the press button to open the door to the community centre.

The group of signs, the apology to the Jewish population of Venice and the names of the Venetian Jews who were sent to their deaths in railroad cars can still move me.

Hi Peter,

Enjoying your trip along with you. Keep your feet dry and keep writing!

gruezi

Dear Used To Be Our Master and Mistress

We have captured your house sitter, and she is safe for the time being.

Leave 4 tins of sardines and a can opener in a brown paper bag .. we'll tell you where the drop off point is when we work out how to phone you.

Oh, and leave 1 million euro, in used notes, also.

Signed: The Cats

PS Don't call the police.

YvonneT - you are too funny.

Exquisite, Peter.

DH and I too found the marble curtains to be mouth-dropping.

Good luck with the gatti...

Hi Peter,
I will be staying at 2878A (first floor), Calle Lunga San Barnaba in the Spring and would love to hear your thoughts on the apartment.

I suppose that when you return to a place, you can have the expectation that things will be the same, and certainly the geography of Venice is pretty static. In 2009, I had written, “Two years ago we were here, bought paper products from Legatoria Polliero, and forgot both the name and location of the shop. Paolo, a gentleman of about 70, has been making paper products seemingly forever, and by the look of his shop, his great great grandfather occupied the same premises, probably refusing service to Austrian invaders. There’s still no service as such, and Paolo gets on with his business while you browse his shop. You can stand in a corner and watch a volume being bound in leather, marbled end papers being applied, and the cut leaves being polished with graphite and an agate rubbing stone. It is very special to watch a master craftsman in action.

And then connection is made, and he is the most lovely person imaginable, the apparent mask of indifference hiding a person of great courtesy. I picked up a photo of him with his grandson, and he explained that while he has no English, his son has some, and his grandson, now eight years old, is fluent, like a bird, “e somigliare il uccello”. I envy his grandson, being bi-lingual. As we made purchases, he was at pains to explain “non fabbrica, artisan”, and he cut the wrapping paper on a guillotine. The fine objects that he makes and sells are certainly not factory produced, and he’s an artisan. Shopping like that is more than buying stuff – there’s a little relationship being started as well. ”

We returned today, and I sighted a card recording his death. He died in January of this year, and so a tiny connection for us has been lost. He was born in 1930, and so would have gone through some pretty tough times in post-war Italy, and was aged just eighty when he died.

We will miss him. The expectation that things won’t change is unrealistic after all.

Retired lady, my email address for now is venice dot two dot ten at gmail dot com.

Happy to take the conversation about this apartment off line, as they say .

Cheers

Peter

That was a poignant story about Paolo. I'm glad you had the opportunity to meet this artisan and gentleman.

My map lists some 56 churches in Venice, not including Murano, Burano and Torcello, and if you buy a Chorus Pass, you can have admission to seventeen of them for 12 or 13 euro. Otherwise it is 3 euro per, which can be a bit off putting. The map that comes with the Chorus Pass is one of the best maps of Venice in terms of finding the popular tourist sites, it’s a new publication and very easy to read. Besides the churches, all 56 of them, it shows places of interest like the Ghetto, and shows the vaporetto stops. It’s not so good for navigation – you’d need a street finder for that.

The most easterly church is San Giobbe, near the site of the former municipal abattoir, the most westerly San Pietro di Castello, not far from the football ground, home ground for Venice’s team, which sadly enjoys little success. And about a quarter of the way from abattoir to football ground is the Church of San Polo. The church is pretty dim, and when inside you can see people put their noses in, and decide that they’ll maybe spend their three euro on a coffee and brioche rather than yet another church. In the church proper, there is an OK Tiepolo the elder, and after that the usual group of dark oils showing various saints having a rough time of it.

The treasure of San Polo is in the sacristy. There is a Stations of the Cross, the story told in fourteen frames, almost like a documentary. This group of paintings did not find favour when Tiepolo the Younger painted it around 1750, and I think that the style would have cut across the conventional view of the crucifixion. Tiepolo painted no calm, placid, self-sacrificing demi-god, there’s no Father, Son and Holy Ghost in evidence here. We have a tortured, agonised man, being done to death for upsetting the Roman order of things, threatening the status quo, that “Render unto Caesar” phrase would certainly have threatened the taxation revenue, and overturning the tables of the money changers would knock a hole in synagogue revenue. Those moneychangers paid for the table concessions, were licensed, and entitled to make a buck on the exchange.

That Tiepolo painting, that first Station, sets the scene of what is to come, and outlines the way the narrative will be told. And so asking the mob, “What should we do, what’s a fit punishment” was always going to have the mob baying for blood, “yeah, let’s have a crucifixion, haven’t seen one for weeks”. Nobody was going to suggest a period of home detention, an ASBO, or a fine. And no magistrate was going to lose favour by asking the mob – every election campaign, 2000 years later, still brings up law and order as a issue. “Let’s get tough on Crime!” I’ve read an account of the municipal authorities of a fourteenth century Italian town paying for the right to disembowel, hang, draw and quarter a criminal from a nearby town. Getting tough on crime has a long history.

So there is no “gentle Jesus, meek and mild” portrayed in these Stations. It is all a very human story; I think not the way the people who commissioned the work expected the story to be told. They were not expecting a political statement to hang in the church, and so the paintings languished, unhung, for decades. The same goes for the ascent to Heaven. Mostly one see a most serene portrayal, Jesus ascending, maybe standing on some sort of little cloud, a bunch of angels in attendance, being drawn up to the light. Not in Tiepolo’s version. He has Jesus literally jumping towards the heavens, ascending completely under his own steam, a most athletic Jesus.

So the San Polo church may not be for everyone, but the Tiepolo works make it pretty special for me.

Peter - another hidden treasure uncovered. I'm marking it down for my next trip.

So sad about your friend Paolo - is the business being carried on by his family?

Ann, I'm pretty sure that the family is still running the business - I think that the woman who served me may have been Paolo's daughter. She looked about the right age. The shop is right beside the Frari.

Peter - thanks for telling me that.

I think I know roughly where it is as I got a lovely print of Venice from a nearby artshop, that now hangs proudly above our mantelpiece. it was very reasonable - in fact the frame cost more than the print. it always surprises me how reasonanly priced the handmade things often are.

now to find an opportunity to get back there.

Bloodshed in Venice – an on-going habit.

Of the first twenty five Doges, four abdicated, one became a saint, four were deposed, one was exiled, one was killed in a battle with pirates, three were judicially blinded, three were murdered and one, Doge Martin Faliero, was executed for treason. He was advised, per messenger, “You are condemned to have your head cut off within the hour”. He was duly beheaded, and I believe that his head was displayed between the pair of pink marble columns on the upper colonnade facing the piazzetta, as such was the way of things.

Severed heads are now not often displayed, but the bloodshed continues. Tourists, for some reason, like feeding pigeons in the piazza. The pigeons are slow moving, being full of bread and corn. Atlantic gulls are fast moving, mostly carnivorous, disdaining corn, and are not so often seen in the piazza. Except for this morning, when one seized a pigeon, carrying it over Florians, and killing and devouring the unfortunate bird.

Now, that will give Yoko and Izumi an interesting story and some happy snaps to show the folks back in Tokyo.

Yep, the bloodshed continues.

Hi Peter! I am really enjoying your posts. We will be in Venice on the 22nd - 25th. Just yesterday I printed and put for packing your scavenger hunt - can't wait to do it with my girls!

If you see us - mom, dad and 2 girls (13 and 8) wandering around with your hunt printed out - say hello!

The gondoliers are having a pretty thin time of it at the moment – when it is raining, and about 3 degrees Celsius, there’s not a lot of patronage. The romantic ride is not so romantic when the teeth are chattering. Gondoliers take it in turn to man the traghetti that will carry you across the Grand Canal for the princely sum of 50 cents, and yesterday morning we got lucky – our traghetto was “manned” by Venice’s only female gondoliera. I believe that she is German by birth, certainly of a Nordic rather than Mediterranean appearance, and fought pretty hard to obtain her ticket.

Steam powered ferries, vaporetto, first made an appearance in Venice in 1881, much to the alarm of the city’s gondoliers, who promptly took strike action. They have survived, and on Guidecca, off the Rio della Croce, there is a ex voto, erected by the Guidecca ferry oarsmen, thanking the Holy Mother for her kindness in ensuring that they were not entirely ruined by the steamers. I don’t know whether the piano accordionists that one hears on the Grand Canal, serenading a squadron of gondolas, contributed to the ex voto.

Peter, I read about the gondoliera [gondolieressa?] somewhere. What I have read suggests that it is generally a family affair, passed from father to son, so for any outsider, let alone a woman, to break into it is pretty special.

thank you for mentioning the ex voto - another land mark to add to my list of new things to see enxt time.

Unless Alexandra Hai has passed her gondoliera exam, you were rowed by Giorgia Boscolo (Italian, I believe). The German lady is employed by one of the hotels in a private capacity, so she does not have to have passed the exam.

Ann, I hope you have better luck finding the ex-voto than I did. If you succeed, let me know.

Peter- I'm really enjoying your report and the style in which you right it. Such interesting information. I'm definitely going to hit San Polo on my next trip. The Stations sound fascinating. thanks again for sharing with us!

grr..."write" it.

bert - if/when i next visit Venice, I'll be sure to try to find it, and inform you straight away!

We’ve just spent a couple of days in Rome. The usual chaotic traffic conditions, that would deter me from even thinking about driving there – but the Romans seem to do it well enough. Just about every car – the exceptions being the BMW’s with EU number plates, blacked out windows and police escorts – has minor dings and panel damage. It’s odd – in Australia, the smallest scrape on the car requires repair, but in Rome they don’t seem to matter. We took Lou’s mother to the airport, and there was a most helpful man, assisting people with getting their luggage onto the train. He had a jacket with “Crew” on the back, so obviously was some sort of official – or not. After helping many, he meandered through the carriage, receiving payment. Not a bad way of doing business, help people and then lay a little guilt trip on them.

We strolled along the Tiber, and it took all of about two minutes for a guy to ask us for directions. He was quite well dressed, in a good, panel-damage free, car, and he wanted directions to the Vatican. He asked us where we were from, said he knew Melbourne well, had stayed in the Sofitel in Collins street, worked in textiles, for Armani. He even had a catalogue of Armani products on the front seat. We were able to direct him – the dome of St Peter’s being in full view – and he was most grateful. He even offered us some sample jackets, which he said that he did not need, but we declined, as we were travelling very light. Such a well-mannered, kind man! I can’t understand how people complain about the shysters and rip-off merchants in Rome.

Campo Fiore for a coffee, and to watch the street market in action, a cappuccino securing table rent for nearly an hour. I had scored a free Fodors guide for Rome, from being quoted in their Italy book, and one piece of advice took my eye as we read it in the sun, a money saving tip. “Order your coffee or drinks from the bar before you sit down. Take your coffee, whatever, with you to the table, then return the cup or glass afterwards. That way you’ll be charged the much cheaper al-banco price that the locals pay.” I thought that this was advice that only the brave would follow, assuming that al-banco meant “ordered, consumed and paid for at the bar”, but I must have got it wrong. When I write my “Guide to travelling in the USA”, I’m going to advise that tipping is a quaint local custom that visitors can ignore, that it’s acceptable to pack up a hearty lunch for yourself from the breakfast buffet, and that you can ask for a doggie bag at an “all you can eat” place.

We stayed at a Bed and Breakfast in Rome. I’m not really a B&B kind of guy – sharing “What are you planning to do today” across the breakfast table is not really me. So the Best Pantheon B&B was very good. It’s tiny – I think four rooms, and there is no common space. Well located, across the road from the Area Sacra, the old forum, and the Largo di Torre Argentina, cab rank and bus station close by, short walk to the Piazza Navona, an 8 euro cab ride from Termini. Maybe the only drawback might be that there is nobody in attendance after 1:00 PM, so you need to make arrangements if you are arriving after then. Breakfast is good – the full Italian thing, plus the option of eggs, delivered exactly on time. I’ll recommend it - http://www.venere.com/bandb/rome/bandb-best-pantheon/?sd=09&sm=12&sy=2010&ed=12&em=12&ey=2010&pval=2&rval=1#information;eur;swa20101209,20101212,2,1

We’ve been to Rome a couple of times, maybe half a dozen days in total, and never really appreciated Rome. I suppose that it’s easy to concentrate on the big ticket sights, the Forum, Palatine, Aventine, Colloseo, Trevi fountain, Vatican, Spanish steps, and we’d never really got a handle on the geography of Rome, the seven hills and all. From Trastevere, we walked up the Via Garabaldi, and I suppose became acquainted with Italian, as against, Roman history.

The church of Santa Maria in Trastevere stands at the top of the hill. I’d never known much of the history of Italian unification, never realised that the Papacy was a military power in the 1850’s. And I suppose, while I’ve seen a lot of monuments to Garibaldi, how significant he was in Italian history. I think that all nations have their sacred, special places. For Americans, maybe it is Bull Run, or Gettysburg, for the British it is Dunkirk or Agincourt, for we Australians, it is the Gallipoli peninsular or Kokoda. Places that have somehow burned themselves into the national psyche, places of heroism. The top of Trastevere is maybe the same place for Italians, Garibaldi leading a doomed defence against French forces, mobilised to support the papacy. I’ve never walked across a battlefield before, and the church of Santa Maria was pretty well shelled by French forces – the remains of the defenders are buried in the mausoleum on top of that hill. It’s the equivalent of our Melbourne Shrine, for Sydneysiders, the Cenotaph, for Americans, Arlington. At the very top of the hill, there is a monument to Garibaldi. It is presently being refurbished, along with statues of others who were important in the campaign that created the Italy that we know out of a bunch if disparate states.

It made me think a bit, and to be not proud of my ignorance.

Loving this...

We got lucky in Rome – a couple of days of sun, after almost three weeks of rain in Venice, and took a long walk around the Boboli gardens, watched ducks and kids learning to row on the ornamental lake. In Australia, the contour interval on maps is 25 metres, in Venice a contour map would need intervals of less than 25 centimetres to be useful, and so it was a good change to have hills to walk up. And when you walk around any of the remnants of the old walls to Rome, you can get a good idea of why they are shaped as they are. Just about every part of the walls can be protected, with a clear line of fire from adjacent parts of the walls. Those Roman engineers certainly knew a thing or two about pouring arrow fire on siege machines.

We ate at Le Tamerici, near the Trevi fountain. The food there is pretty good – radicchio stuffed with blue cheese and potato, house made pasta with seafood, sliced beef served on raw spinach, and a good salad. We shared each course in turn, and appreciated that they separated the portions in the kitchen before serving. The tab, with wine, cover and service came to about 100 euro, which is about what we would expect to pay for the same meal in Australia, and we are finding this often. Even after converting currency, with the Australian dollar buying about 0.72 euros, the costs of food and lodging is about the same as in Aus. Some things – coffee al banco, are really cheap – never much more than one euro, and wine is cheap too. A spritz costs two euro, a hazard, as they are seriously alcoholic.

Back in Venice, the weather is cold and sunny – about 3 or 4 deg C, no rain, and so the skins of endangered animals are out in force on the streets. It’s funny, being in a line at the supermarket behind a woman wearing a 10,000-euro fur, who is arguing about a ten-cent discount. Maybe it is the collation of all those little discounts that procured the fur.

The student population of Venice is revolting. Well, perhaps not revolting, as they seem a pretty equable bunch, but there’s the whiff of revolution in the air. I think it is about funding for education, and so several hundred students stormed the Rialto Bridge, Venetian style. The demonstrators were equipped with banners, and a ghetto blaster the size of a fridge belting out reggae music. They paused on the centre steps on the San Polo side for some great photo opportunities, while leaving the side steps free for pedestrians and tourists – after all, this is Venice, and one does not aggravate the difficulties for tourists. The tourist euro, dollar, yuan, yen, pound, rouble or shekel must not be constrained.

They were confronted by a squad of at least eight riot police, also equipped Venetian style – plastic shield, a bored look and a fresh packet of smokes in case the whole show dragged on for too long. The demonstrators avoided the little lane where they sell plastic gondolas, plastic campaniles made in the PRC and AC Milan football shirts, and congregated in Campo San Giacomo di Rialto while one of their number mounted the statue of Gobbo. The reggae was silenced, the crowd was harangued, and as the bars opened, people headed off for a coffee or spritz. Overall, a most Venetian affair, no chairs thrown through windows or police being thumped. There’s a big student population here, but everyone runs into everyone else sooner or later, so one had better not misbehave.

It is presently being refurbished, along with statues of others who were important in the campaign that created the Italy that we know out of a bunch if disparate states.
_________________________
The idea that Baltimore could be at war with Washington, DC as an example of a city-state has always intrigued me. It puts into perspective the regionalism and maybe explains the weird signage-if you aren't a stranger, you shouldn't be lost!

Have you mentioned the scuoli in another report? I can't remember-sorry.

Still an exquisite report!

Enjoying your writing very much again, Peter - thank you so much. Helps keep me going while I wait to go back ! Lots of interesting info and insights as always.

I too love the Stations of the Cross in the church of San Polo.

It feels great having Venice bus passes. doesn't it ? For weeks after we got home last time I kept getting them out and admiring them We don't even have Edinburgh bus passes !

This is just fabulous. Now I'm so sorry I'll have only about 48 hours in Venice and not enough time to do every thing Peter's done.

I especially love the description of artisan Paolo and his shop. Would you be so kind to give the name of it? This is exactly the sort of place I'd tell my DH to come looking for me in 2 hours as I'd putter about looking at everything...

Caroline, those bus passes are about the best souvenir you could take from Venice – a sense of ownership of Venice, and along with that, a sense of being owned by Venice, a requirement that one returns, to use up those unexpired trips.

There is a shroud of snow in the courtyard here, a snowy beard on the wellhead. It does look pretty magical.


Hiker Chick, Lagatoria Poliero – is in the Campo dei Frari in San Polo. You enter the church through a side door, into the trancept. Just before you enter the church, if you look left, you’ll see the shop. There’s lots of lovely things there – even on our third or fourth visit, we’ve found things we coud not resist buying. Lou keeps her water colour tubes in a box from there, I keep my loose change in a round box. Worth a visit, and a little off the general tourist trail. And the Frari is pretty special too – look for the bomb mounted on the wall, just to the right of the tomb held up by the four dark gentlemen. That tomb re-defines the concept of grotesque!

Different things.
We were talking about Italian bars, and whether the concept would work in Melbourne. Could Melbournians be persuaded to take a coffee standing up, help themselves to a croissant, if it were cheaper than being seated. In Italy, coffee at a table costs typically twice a coffee taken at the bar. Could the concept of a slug of espresso, consumed at the bar, work. I don’t think that it would fly – we expect too much service, I think – and yet in Italy we are comfortable with it.

Melbourne likes to think of itself as having a sophisticated coffee culture, annual awards for barrista of the year. Coffee beans selected from those grown on the north side only of a remote valley in Patagonia, picked by workers being paid above average wages who sing special coffee-picking folk songs as they go about their business, etcetera, the full catastrophe.

Italians just want that caffeine slug. If they want more caffeine, they order a second coffee. There’s no concept of small, regular or grande, people rarely do take away, and you don’t see those half a litre paper cups anywhere. Nobody drags a spoon across the café latte to make a cute pattern, or dusts the cappuccino with cocoa. Nope, it’s all about the caffeine, and the bottomless cup is an unknown species here.

Service, or the lack thereof, extends to supermarkets. Weigh your own produce and put the bar coded sticker on it, and everything is sold by weight. The cashier will shovel all your stuff over the code reader, and you pack it yourself after you’ve been growled at for not providing the exact change. It certainly makes it fast, as long as you don’t get behind people who are paying with tickets or vouchers, which formalise the Italian barter system, and provide a convenient means of siphoning off revenue. A woman got a chocolate bar as change when paying with tickets the other night – Billa won’t give cash as change to people paying for their groceries with tickets.

Europe still retains one and two cent coins, which really are pretty useless pieces of copper. Australia dumped them years ago, to the pleasure of just about everyone. If the bill at Billa comes to 51.51 euro, the one cent will be expected – unless you proffer a 50 note, a one euro coin and a fifty cent coin, and in that case you’ll be rewarded for your endeavours by being excused the one cent. If the bill comes to 49.98 euro, you won’t get change from a fifty – thank God. Small change is always short in Italy, and was the case decades ago. I remember in 1975, patrons at markets being given a handful of olives to bring the amount up to a round 500 lire, and when offering a 100 lire note for a fifty lire glass of wine, being given a jetton, a phone token worth 50 lire, as change.

And using said jetton to pay for the next glass.

There’s an awful lot of art in Venice, and a lot of awful art. Ditto for glass. Street art seems to have a single theme – a bridge and a gondola. But we’ve found an artist who really CAN do gondolas, and he’s done a series of gondola paintings – from Giotto to Picasso, and they really grabbed me. http://www.collezioneimpossibile.com/introen.html refers, and it fun. How would Leonardo have painted a gondola? This guy’s thought it through, the result being a little Leonardo series of details, so similar to Leonardo’s sketches for, say, a helicopter. The Van Gogh gondola is painted in typical Van Gogh fashion, Picasso’s gondola is all over the place, ferro to port, multiple oars. Magritte’s gondolas are floating in the air. The one I liked most was the series of three, showing how Mondrian might have interpreted the gondola. I’ve never been able to “get” Mondrian, always seeing his work as a bunch of interesting patterns, primary colours. But seeing this mock-Mondrian has allowed me to maybe see his work in a different light. The gallery is easy to find – walk down the Riva degli Schiavoni, left into Calle del Dose, through Campo Bandiera e Moro, into Salizzada Sant Antonin, and it is on your left, next to a toy shop. (Apropos of nothing, an elephant that escaped from a visiting zoo was shot in the Church of San Antonin, in about 1815.)

This artist, Giorgio Ghidoli, has also painted some great views of ordinary Venetian life. One work that I covet, but can’t afford, shows a traghetto pulling in, probably at San Sofia. There’s a static quality to the work, and at the same time a sense of impending movement, men in overcoats getting ready to alight. I can’t afford the original, but there’s a sketch, a preliminary, that I’m of a mind to buy.

Just around the corner from us, there’s a great photographer, Fabio Bressalano, who’s doing good stuff, and an artist up the way in Calle Lunga, who combines vintage fabrics, Morris and Fortuny, photography and paint to crate interesting works. Not much to my liking, but she has just completed a lovely portrait of a little girl that I’ve enjoyed watching develop, and that painting will be a treasure. And down the street, the other way, another artist whose work we rather enjoy, Davide Battistin. One can enjoy peering through the window, seeing a work develop.

I wonder if that is how it was when say, Tintoretto or Turner, were producing their latest works.

Probably was.

That "Collection Impossible" is really something! I love the Caravaggio, especially.

It's snowing,
It's snowing,
Your cheeks
Are glowing.

Peter: I could read your reports over and over. They are just full of so many things.
Don't blush, but your writing reminds me of Patrick Leigh Fermor (one of the saints of travel writing) as he writes A Time for Gifts, about his walk from Rotterdam to Istanbul in 1934 at the age of 18.... just full of history and ephemora and people and what-not. Delicious.

Hikerchick, bad info, discovered as we strolled around the Frari this morninf. You enter the Frari through the main door in the nave, not the door in the trancept. Poliero is to the left as you face the main door. Check out the leather bound volumes in the window - the tooling on the leather is quite something.

We’re staying in an apartment, and many people have donated guide books when they have left – I’ll be donating a Fodor’s Italy, because it’s too heavy to carry. There’s a Rick Steves Italy book here, which I browsed a little. I was taken by his introduction, describing Italy as a land of emotion, corruption, stray hairs, inflation, traffic jams, body odour, strikes, rallies, holidays, crowded squalor and irate ranters shaking their fists at each other one minute, and strolling arm in arm the next.

Gosh, I thought, I should visit that Italy, it sounds much more vibrant, chaotic and exciting than the Italy that we’re visiting. There’s a little corruption – pay cash, get no recept and a bit of a discount. Strikes are publicised weeks in advance. Rallies seem pretty tame by Australian standards, emotion seems to emanate, in Venice at least, by tourists who are lost. Holidays are as per calendar, easier to interpret than say, Thailand. One man’s crowded squalor, washing strung across the street, is another man’s close functioning community. We’ve not seen any irate ranters.

A few things are different from Australia. We have found that the trains run on time, pretty much to the second. Prices in bars are always posted, showing the difference between bar and table prices. Even Florians explains, quite clearly, that a coffee in San Marco will attract a bunch of extra costs, depending where you drink it and if music is being provided at the time. Public transport works pretty well, and the ferries in Venice are reliable, and operate to a well-publicised timetable. The ticketing system is easy – Melbourne has been trying to implement a similar system for the last ten years and it still does not work. Inflation does not seem to exist – we now are paying 2.10 euro for a coffee and brioche, and we were paying 2.10 two years ago. Food costs no more than in Australia.

Some things are different – the way meat is presented in butchers, for example. I had a mate in Aus who had worked as a butcher. I asked him, how come you never see offal, lambs brains, liver, tripe, whatever, in the butcher’s window. He said that the people who want will ask, and that people who don’t like offal will be put off from even entering the shop, so everything is nicely presented, in serving portion sizes. In Italy, they have big lumps of meat in the window, and your chunk will be cut to order. In Aus, that would never work – maybe Italian cooks are better at dressing and cooking meat that Australians.

Most guide books warn against theft, probably for good reason. Maybe Venice is more law abiding than other places, but you see goods unloaded from a boat, and allowed to sit for a while beside the canal, and they don’t get stolen (although the case of Scotch that I saw seemed to have been double wrapped, to remove temptation). The news vendor has articles all around his kiosk, but in Melbourne, that would be inviting people to take them. The postman leaves his trolley of mail outside a friend’s shop every morning at 10:30 and heads off with the shopkeeper for 20 minutes for a coffee. In Australia, I’m certain that this would breach the regulations for handling Her Majesty’s mail – but here it’s OK, and nobody will steal the mail. In bars, it’s mostly the barman’s job to keep track of what you have consumed, and you pay at the end, a spritz, a tremazzino and a panino, that’ll be 5.50, grazie. In Aus, it’s pay as you go.

So I’m searching for Mr Steves chaotic Italy, but yet to find it.

Good.

"Inflation does not seem to exist – we now are paying 2.10 euro for a coffee and brioche, and we were paying 2.10 two years ago."

An Italian friend explained that even as other food prices have become more inflated since the lira/euro conversion (in some cases doubling in price), coffee prices had to stay the same or there would have been a true revolt.

Ellenem, that would make sense - Italy seems to have a coffee driven economy.

DH and I did see some of the Italy RS described in Roma and Napoli. And we witnessed an amazing argument between a cabbie and a bus driver that stopped traffic and made pedestrians pause.

Italy is what you describe and what RS does too. It can be anything on a given day-just like the U.S.. I am surprised he didn't mentioned grand art and architecture.

Peter, you put it so brilliantly about the bus passes and the two way sense of ownership - I wish I had your gift of expression.

Thank you for mentioning the garden under snow too - I am imagining it and thinking it really must look magical. I expect you will be able to see more of it than we could, as most of the leaves will be off the various trees, creepers etc ? And I take it the flat gets nice and warm ?

I noticed you earlier mentioned the price of wine at Billa and I meant to say - do you also go to the draught wine shop on Calle Lunga ? We thought that was one of the great finds of our last stay - we were paying €2/ltr for Pinot Grigio, €2.20/ltr for a red (forgot what exactly now) and €2.50/ltr for Proscecco and found it all very drinkable and tastier than many examples we've paid 4 or 5 times as much for at home; although we found the Prosecco really needed drinking the same day Going there was another thing that made us feel we almost 'belonged', especially when I got a "bravissima!" from the lady on our second visit when I produced my own empty plastic water bottle.

How nice of you to donate a new shopping trolley ! We used the old one for our initial Billa stocking-up-with-essentials trip, but from the state of it I suspect it may not have been used since you were last there. A wheel fell off on the way back but DH managed to hammer it back on again. After I started going to the farmers' market at home I bought a shopping trolley and although it's a sign of old age here, I love it. Although I think the apartment we're renting next year in Venice (since it sounded like 'yours' wouldn't be available) actually involves no bridges at all on the way to Billa, which seems remarkable.

Keenly looking forward to keeping up with your new reflections and insights.

Thanks, Peter, for the correction. I'll be writing it down for certain! I cannot wait to read more, you really have a way with words!

Caroline, when aqua alta really comes, the trolley parked in the lobby has salt water over its axle. I think it had survived remarkably well. Whether Venice is sinking, or the water rising, I don't know. And I don't know if the Mose barriers will prevent mortality of the next trolley - but one can hope.

Three euro does not go far in Venice – about three espressos, or a couple of cappucini, as long as they don’t come from Florians or Quadri. But three euro will also take you, vie elevator, to the top of the San Giorgio Maggiore campanile, and it’s something of a trip. As you ascend, you can see the ramp that winds its way, Scala Bovolo style, up the inside the campanile. And when you alight at the top, all of Venice is laid out before you.

You can imagine yourself as Doge, surveying your entire domain. It really is quite a view, a change of vista from the cramped streets, and if the day is clear, you can see as far as Torcello in the north east, through to Chioggia in the south west. The Lido looks a stone’s throw away, Sant’ Elena is quite a big land mass. You can identify that campanile that disturbs your sleep; pick the campanile of the San Giorgio dei Greci that looks about to fall.

Yes, three euro for one of the world’s knock out views, and at the same time, you can get a close up look at the mechanism that rings the bells. If you are lucky, there will be no queue, and you’ll have the campanile almost to yourself. When you come down from the campanile, you can view the choir stalls, about eighty seats behind the altar, carved in walnut. The detail in the carvings is remarkable, no two pieces alike, and doubtless some Venetian notables have their faces represented there.

We walked the length of La Guidecca a couple of days ago, pretty cold with the chilly air dumping down off the Dolomites. I don’t think we’d ever appreciated how big Giudecca is, and the Hilton (ex Moline Stucky) is enormous. We walked the deserted streets of Giudecca, and the equally deserted lobbies of the Molino Stucky, strolled over to the Municipal Swimming Pool, closed for the winter. I could imagine that in summer, it is a different scene, but in winter it is quiet.

Christmas is coming. Decorations are strung, shops are offering Christmas stuff, the Chiesa Medallana has about twenty Nativity scenes on display, and they are worth a look. The detail is fun, and the church is one of three, I think, circular churches in Venice. It’s normally not open, but at Christmas entry is available. Billa is offering fireworks, 29.99 euro for a pack about the right size to start World War Three, so the smell of black powder is appearing in the streets. We are seeing things cranking up, more visitors on the streets, and if Billa sells enough of those little arsenals, New Year’s could be pretty noisy.

A couple of unconnected facts:
1. Paolo Sarpi, Venetian philosopher, said, “I never, never, tell a lie. But the truth not to everyone”.
2. We bought a Mondrian-inspired vase that Lou had spotted on her morning run at the Guggenheim gallery shop.

And while buying the vase, I came across a great guidebook to Venice, Thomas Jonglez and Paola Zoffoli’s “Secet Venice” www.jonglezpublishing.com if you are interested, costs 18 euro. The book certainly echoes Sarpi’s comment, demonstrates that there are at least two, often half a dozen, explanations for just about anything in Venice.

For example, the small face in high relief of La Donna Onesta at the Ponte ditto has four explanations, two are too long to transcribe, one is trivial, and one I like. “The name simply comes from …..that of a local prostitute whose rates were so reasonable that they were described as “honest”.” In the book, there is also a detailed explanation of the symbology of Canova’s monument in the Frari, which will cause me to make a return visit, and the reasoning behind an Istrian stone barbican in the Calle de Madonna near Rialto, an official measure of how far a barbican was allowed to protrude from the wall.

It advises that the vegetable market at the women’s prison on Giudecca, open from 9:00 to 10:00, Thursdays, at the Palanca vap stop, is really worth visiting, if only to observe the contest between the grannies of Giudecca as they jostle for the best produce. It sounds as though getting between that shopping trolley and that fresh aubergine could be a dangerous endeavour. The book comments o the Chapel of the Vision of St. Mark “Now used as a storeroom, the chapel is of no particular aesthetic or architectural interest”. However, the chapel does stand on the exact spot where an angel appeared to St Mark, taking into account the caveat “the truth not to everyone”. I think this book will draw me all over Venice yet again.

There are companion volumes, Secret Amsterdam, Barcelona, Brussels, Paris and so on. Worth a look, particularly for anyone who is a bit “over” the big ticket sights, like me.

I mentioned that the San Giorgio campanile was pretty good value at three euro, and equally good value is the Rialto market, and it’s free! We went this morning, at about 7:00, so still early morning for the Venetian winter. Sharing the calle with sweepers, early morning dogs, and the first commuters. Coffee and brioche smells coming from bars, a boat with pump and tank pumping out someone’s grease trap, which does not smell so well, but that’s Venice. The Rialto market is a hive of activity, and it is worth forsaking the second “B” of one’s B&B to be there. Fruit and vegetables from all over the lagoon, artichoke discs being cut – a Venetian delicacy, although to my taste they are not all that flash. Butchers arranging their windows, complete with trays of offal and heads of animals, which in Aus would not automatically cause one to enter, ducks, roosters, pullets, turkeys, rabbits, lumps of carne. The horse butcher has a range of equine flesh, but I can’t bring myself to buy it, for no good reason.

I just can’t.

The fish market is like an aquarium. Eels alive in shallow trays, scampi wriggling their legs, razor clams pulsating. A great variety of fish, scallops (a big meal for two costing about 16 euro, and we’ll enjoy them). Fish being filleted, pine boxes of Scottish salmon. It’s a great sight. The fish market looks quite old, and it’s not. Built around 1905, so in Venetian terms it was built more or less yesterday. The stone capitals on the columns are worth a look – heads of fishes, heads of the patron saints of prawning, trawling, long line, oyster farming and shallow water netting.

Peter, I once saw the fruttivendolo on the barge around the corner from your flat "refreshing" the artichoke discs in a bucket of canal water. Didn't fancy them after that.

Thanks for letting us readers share your stay in Venice.

Peter, what a wonderful report. Your humor is so erudite.

We enjoyed Chioggia but we drove there after exploring the Veneto and Padua. We liked its rather rough demeanor and the ease of getting to canals by car rather boat. Nice, though, to know it's relatively easy to get there from Venice. Maybe a day trip sometime. Thanks for that info.

Having been in Venice twice a year apart, did you, like I,detect a decline in vendors at the Rialto market?

I meant a decline in number of vendors, not their quality.

Julie, I think there may be one or two less fish vendors, and certainly fewer fruit vendors. The fruit and veg vendors have dropped out from the area closest to Rialto.

I am not surprised that the San Barnaba fruit vendors would use canal water to refresh artichoke. They are a grumpy pair of blokes. But then, thay are located at the Ponte de Pugni, the Bridge of Fists. Perhaps thay are waiting for a fight to break out.

There it is again, that erudite humor. Thanks. This is such fun to follow.

People often complain that food in Venice is not all that good, and it’s not known as the gastronomic capital of Italy. Maybe Bologna is, and we’ll find out shortly after Christmas.

But there’s no need to eat. You can almost breathe in a meal as you walk around. The smell of fresh brioche, pizza, bread, fish cooking, and the chocolate shop in Calle d’ Campaniel in San Polo near the San Toma vap stop can almost satisfy ones hunger. There are other smells too, sensations that one can only experience on foot, like the smell that emanates from the studio on the corner of Calle Lunga San Barnaba and Calle Sporca d’ Pacienza.

Artist in residence Davide Battistin works in oils, and the smell of linseed and turpentine permeates the street. It must be pretty potent inside his studio, and I do hope he has a fire extinguisher to hand. The fumes don’t seem to affect the quality of his work – fumes that strong would make me paint psychedelic work – but he’s producing some pretty good stuff. I like them.

Another artist has given me the solution to a long standing problem. Lou’s been suggesting, requesting, asking, demanding and finally nagging me to buy No 1, Santa Croce for her. She fancies having a micro-palazzo of her own, and I should just get on with it and purchase the place. The fact that I’d have to win the lottery – twice – to fund the purchase and restoration is not seen as any impediment.

We’ve compromised. Giorgio Ghidoli does good water colour paintings, along with gondolas as Paul Klee, Mondrian, Picasso and Jackson Pollock would have painted them, were they so inclined. I bought a watercolour of the Ponte San’ Antonin, almost the view from his studio, as I like San’ Antonin, the slaughterhouse for the escaped elephant. We asked Giorgio whether he’s painted No 1, Santa Croce, and while he indicated that no, he hadn’t, he’d be happy to produce a watercolour if we could furnish some photos. Too easy.

So I’ll at least buy an image of No 1 for Lou, which will hopefully get her off my back. The painting will be done in a week or two, so she’ll own No 1 before we leave Venice.

And less hassle than negotiating the Venetian Conveyancing Act, Peter. I'm enjoying your trip very much. Thanks for sharing it, and Merry Christmas from home.

At 00:38, Greenwich Mean Time, 22 December 2010 we observed the Winter solstice. Well, I did not exactly observe it, as I was in bed. I think that being in Europe, experiencing cold, gives a new view of the solstice. The big celebrations, Stonehenge et al, occur at the Summer solstice, but it’s the Winter solstice that counts. If you’ve made it to the Winter solstice, not been too extravagant with the food that you’ve dried, smoked, or preserved, the cheese you made when the cattle were in milk, not burned too much of the firewood or peat that you’ve stacked and seasoned, than you’ve got a chance of seeing Summer. We went to Billa for smoked prosciutto instead, and figure that we also have a good chance of seeing Summer.

But even having the chance to see a little more sun is welcome.

We’re noticing Venice filling up with people. I remember as a child having one of those pre-Christmas, Advent cards with little windows, and if you were really disciplined, you would open a window a day, and see a little surprise. The four storey apartment block two gardens away is like that card, and at night we can see how it is filling up, shutters opened, more lights on, activity, children. It’s fun, a way of being connected in a small way to life here. I suppose it’s also proof of just how much of Venice is not occupied, apartments being bought by industrialists from Milan or merchant bankers from the City or Wall Street, all pushing up prices and de-populating Venice. I guess that we’re doing the same, we’re amongst the guilty.

Getting lost. If I had even just a single euro for every person I’ve seen in the last few days consulting a map and looking frustrated, I’d be able to buy No. 1 tomorrow. We’ve sat in bars and watched people try to navigate with an A4 page showing all of Venice, printed from Google maps. We’ve seen people ask for directions, and giving directions is a hopeless task. “Sempre diretto” is the most commonly heard direction, “straight on”. You can’t tell someone “20 yards down the calle, cross the bridge to your right, take the second sottoportego, cross the bridge, and take the fondamenta just in front of you. Turn right at the church, and it should be on your left”. A couple of nights ago, we saw the same couple, dragging their bags, pass us five or six time. Should one offer assistance? – assistance being useless unless one walks with them to their destination. Nope, we ordered another spritz.

But this got me to thinking. People will pay for guided tours, and I think that people would pay for a guide service. When arriving in Venice, the sight you really want to see is not San Marco or the Ducal Palace. The sight you really want to see is the front door of your hotel, apartment or B&B. Some of those lost souls would gladly hand over 20 euro, I’m sure, to see the sign of their hotel. It needs minimal equipment – a jacket with “Official Street Finder” on it - like the guy in Rome with the jacket saying “Crew” who extracted a euro from me for lifting a bag onto the train to the airport, very nicely done. A cell phone, and a decent map of Venice, maybe a Google maps enabled laptop for the tricky ones (like can you show me where 2741 Castello is – I don’t have a calle or fondamenta reference) and we’re in business. If Fodors did not prohibit advertising, I’d do it. I’d even do it for free – it would be fun. Call this number when you are on the steps of the Ferrovia S. Lucia, and away we go. Satisfaction maximised, aqua alta avoided, bridges minimised.


Guaranteed. Sort of.

That sounds like a great business idea! In fact, if you find yourself in Santa Croce on Christmas morning, I'll be the redhead dragging my bag past you with a map in my hand and a lost look on my face as we look for our hotel. But I figure that getting lost in Venice is much better than getting lost in Atlanta any day of the year.

Looking forward to your Bologna.

Happy Holidays!

Maestrette,where are you staying in Santa Croce? Happy to help.

We are staying at the Hotel Canal Grande in Campo San Simeon. One of the reasons I picked it was because it seems quite easy to locate. I'll save the wandering around the city lost for when I am not carrying luggage.

masestrette,

I've found Streetwise maps to be very good, very detailed. The Venice one worked quite well for most locations.

I've wandered a lot in Venice on two different trips. I only got really lost once. Trying to find one of the scuolo art sights. I did give up as I had a flight to catch.

Buon viaggio!

And happy holidays Peter! Great live reporting.

If you start a business with a name starting with an “i”, then Apple will take you to court – witness the fate of the Australian website that advised the places where alcohol could be bought cheaply – iGrog.com.au, which has now closed down after pressure from iApple, and I’m waiting for Apple to start pruning those tourist information offices, identified with a lower case “i”.

Same thing happened in Venice, a while ago. There’s a pharmacy in Cannaregio called “Alle Due Collone”, the Two Columns. Doubtless the proprietors were perturbed when a pharmacy of the same name opened in Campo San Polo – no franchise deal, no partnership agreement, no nothing. The sort of situation that would have Apple phoning their lawyers.

Legal action followed, and the San Polo establishment was forced to change its name – to “Alla Colonna e mezza” – A column and a half. The change is reflected in the stone tablet outside the pharmacy, which used to show two columns. Half of one column has been excised, as required by an ordinance of 1586. I suppose that in 1586, miracle cures like teriaca were sold at the Column and a half, now more modern miracles are promised – “reduces the signs of visible ageing”, “a lovelier complexion in fourteen days”, “moisturisation”, etc. Who says the days of miracles have passed!

Another miracle, quite a modern one. There’s a statue of Garibaldi at the end of Via ditto, in the gardens. The more interesting statue, though, is that of Giuseppe Zolli, who is at the base of Garibaldi’s statue, facing the down the gardens, while Garibaldi faces his Via. Giuseppe is the guy with cap, scarf (undoubtedly red), rifle slung, and quite a kind face. In 1921, the ghost of Giuseppe Zolli appeared and cause alarums, and even injuries. He’d been born in 1838, a follower of Garibaldi, and had promised Garibaldi that he would protect him, even after death. True to his word, after he died in 1921, he haunted Garibaldi’s statue. Ghosts in public gardens are a problem, driving away clients for flower sellers and ice-cream vendors, frightening horses and children. Zolli’s ghost has not made reappearance since the bronze statue of him was erected, guarding Garibaldi’s back.

Voila, problem solved. The truth not to everyone? – well, I don’t know. But that’s what the book says. And Zolli looks like the kind of man who would keep a promise.

Peter, I am enjoying your writing very much... thank you. If you again happen upon:
"an artist up the way in Calle Lunga, who combines vintage fabrics, Morris and Fortuny, photography and paint to crate interesting works"
I'd love his/her name.
Merry Christmas from rainy Vancouver,
Linda

Hi Linda,
The artist is Kim Hart,

website is http://www.kimhart.co.uk/

We like Van too, even if it rains.

Cheers

Peter

You can get lucky, and today luck smiled on us.

First piece of luck – a clear, sunny day, little wind, no aqua alta, the sun rising while the half moon was still in the sky.

Second piece of luck – discovering, or rather being pointed in the direction of – the garden behind the Palazzo Soranzo Cappello in Santa Croce, on Rio Marin / Fondamenta Rio Marin. It’s not all that far from the Ferrovia, over the Grand Canal. The Palazzo was built in the seventeenth century, and you can walk in through the front door, and straight out into the garden – the building is now used as offices by a government body. There is a set of statues of Julius Caesar plus eleven Roman emperors, an orchard, and pavilion with statues. The garden is laid out pretty much as it was when the Palazzo was built, and is quite romantic, a little overgrown. It is mentioned in Henry James’ “The Aspern Papers”. There are lots of gardens in Venice, mostly behind high walls, and it was fun to see one from the inside. It’s big – about 150 metres long, 80 metres wide.

You can just stroll in.

We walked back to Dorsoduro via the Ponte San Casiano, and looked up the canal at the blue boat moored there. People who have seen Francesco Da Mosto’s DVD series about Venice or his books, would recognise his boat. They would also recognise Francesco – as we did today, as we saw him load himself, his kids plus a few of their friends on board, and head off towards the Grand Canal. A cheery wave from the man, with his shock of grey hair. I guess celebrity means that people recognise you, and want to say Ciao to you – as we did.

Glad the acqua alta stayed away long enough for you to report of this interesting secret garden. Goggle turned up this description of some secret gardens in Venice.

http://geniuslocivenezia.blogspot.com/2007/05/programma-calendario.html

how interesting Peter. I love finding these sorts of places when I'm travelling, though I'm not always very good at it, as i get a bit bored. DH is much better at pursuing the smaller highways and byways, not always with success - you should see some of the places we have ended up! a particularly rough area of Barcelona springs to mind, not to mention the red light distict in Chania. fortunately there's not much chance of that in Venice.

ellenm - thanks for the link. I came across a link to a tour of private gardens in venice, but we have never been there at the right time of year. perhaps I'll have more success next time.

I purchased a lovely frame today from the shop you mentioned next the to the Frari Church. What a wonderful craftsman! I loved watching the gentleman work while we browsed his small shop.

Bologna.
I was probably a bit unfair in my comments about Dubai, the Freudian “Mine’s bigger than yours” style of architecture, because Bologna started the whole thing with building towers, big towers, Freudian towers. I saw an engraving in Bologna that showed about fifty towers, but now there’s only one intact tower, plus another tower that has developed a list to starboard of about four metres, so has been shortened to avoid collapse. I suppose that erectile dysfunction can even strike brick towers, and Sigmund would sympathise.

Bologna is a serious health hazard. Rome is hazardous because of the insane traffic, but Bologna is a hazard to health because of the food.



Food, glorious food!
Eat right through the menu.
Just loosen your belt
Two inches and then you
Work up a new appetite.
Etc, with apologies to ”Oliver”


Yep, there’s food to be had in Bologna, and we escaped with just slightly raised cholesterol levels. Food shops on every corner, and it’s good.

We stayed at the Abergo delle Drapperie. I’ll give the web address, because we liked it. www.albergodrapperie.com, and it is on a small street, Via Drapperie, very close to the Piazza Maggiore. Right next is a big building that seems to have combined a love of books with a love of food – it’s called “Eatily”. Via Drapperie is in part of the old Medieval market area, and that area still has lots of small food shops, a couple of fishmongers outside our door, vegetable vendors, a horse butcher, sausage, cheese, ham, tortellini, pastries, the full diet that would have your GP shaking his head and prescribing suitable medication. Yet Bolognese people do not appear overweight – a miracle that should invite sainthood for someone.

We visited the Basilica San Petronio, which has a brick façade, as the funds were never found to complete the marble works. The museum in the church is worth taking the time to visit – it has a couple of models of how the church was meant to look, both different, probably submitted as part of the architectural competition when it was either first constructed (1390) or for renovations (17th Century). Two other things that fascinated this engineer – a Foucault pendulum, demonstrating that the earth actually rotates (being able to see evidence of rotation is quite something) and a Zodiacal sundial, some 67 metres long, created by the astronomer Domenico Cassini in 1665, which traces the meridian line through the church. The axis of the nave, for those astronomically interested, points approximately NNE by E. The noon sun shines through a tiny window in the apse, illuminating the meridian line. Dominico’s instrument, that he used to trace the line, is in the museum.
The church of San Stafano is really a cluster of churches and temples, with cloister attached, a religious campus. One cannot escape the feeling of antiquity – it dates from the eighth century, with 11th and 12th century cloisters.

We liked the statue of Neptune in the Piazza Maggiore, and liked it even more once we understood what it was all about. In 1563, Giambologna wanted to make a statement about the power of the Pope. It won’t work if you use a statue of the current Pope, because when he dies, then it becomes a bit meaningless, just another statue. But allow Neptune, ruler of the waves, as the pope rules the land, and it will work. Place cherubs at Neptune’s feet, representing the big rivers of the continents known at that time – the Ganges, Nile, Amazon and the Danube – and this assumes a degree of geographic knowledge on the part of the Bolognese people.
Lou wondered what the meaning might be of the four neo-mermaids at the base of the statue, gushing water. Were they maybe meant to indicate the fecundity of the oceans surrounding the continents, or of the continents themselves? We don’t know, but the mermaids were certainly most generous, expressing water from appropriate orrificii.

Piazza Maggiore will be interesting on New Years Eve. There’s a stage, set up for rock music, properly braced mosh pit, lights, the full catastrophe. The fountain has been fenced. And a giant, soon-to-be- bonfired rooster was being erected. I’m talking of a fowl about fifteen metres high, with a weeks collection of cardboard, straw and other combustibles making up the form, the whole edifice supported on a metal armature, with aluminium crown. Kentucky Fried Chicken Bolognese is going to happen, and what a sight it will be. We need a web cam!

When you order a coffee in Bologna, they serve a small glass of soda water with it. That’s a new one for us.

We had a meal at Ristorante Teresina, Via Oberdan, 4. It was good. Fish entrée, tagletelle Bolognese, wine, coperto et al, and 50 euro. The place was packed, our order was lost somewhere between dining room and kitchen, and I liked the way they handled it. The maitre d’ put a couple of pieces of cheese on a plate, with a little confit, I think maybe a confit of persimmon, and had the waiter deliver it to us. Sort of an unspoken acknowledgement that they’d caused us to wait a little, and very deftly handled. A great meal, and we’d go there again when we next visit Bologna.

I’d read somewhere I think on Fodors – about Giorgio Morandi, a Bolognese artist. I’d thought that Morandi had spent about 30 years painting still lifes of the same set of five bottles, and thought that, as we had an hour to kill, we’d look at his collected works, for a laugh, a joke. Anyone who can do that has to be a bit of a joke, right?

I don’t think I’ve ever seen the collected works of a single artist displayed so well, showing the development of his art, his way of viewing the world, almost a view inside his brain. It’s great. I’m pretty ignorant in art terms, uneducated. And so it was a complete revelation for me to be able to witness how someone changed over the course of about four decades. Pretty special, and so I consider myself lucky to have seen that exhibition.

My grandfather was a minor artist – more accurately described as a painter rather than artist, and I have a number of his etchings. My grandfather made etchings almost as though he was drawing, pencil sketches on a copper plate. Morandi’s etchings are geometric, the density created by hatching, cross hatching, and multiple hatching, to create light and shade. The way that straight lines can become three dimensional is something that I don’t understand, but Morandi certainly understood.

Having that hour to kill was amazing luck!

Peter, thank you for that link to Kim Hart. Very much like her Venetian stuff, and your continuing report.
Cheers,
Linda
In sunny and cold'ish Vancouver

And, thank you for the mention of Foucalt's pendulum, which sent me scampering to do a Google search. Is this the one you saw?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEk2jAoCu8U

Happy New Year.

From HOT and windy melbourne.

Yvonne, that's the one that we saw.

Next scientific adventure, now that we know the world rotates, is to prove that it is round.

Cheers

Peter (about 4 degrees here!)

This a real time report from your correspondent in Venice, safe behind well sandbagged windows.

The sound of explosions can be heard, a street battle of sorts, munitions provided by the Mini Mart in Campo Margerita, where the shelves have been stripped bare of explosives. The firing seems to be concentrated on Fondamenta Gherardini, west of the Ponte Pugni – surely a fitting retribution for those grumpy green grocers, with the flashes from the explosions lighting up most of the south face of the campanile of the Carmini, which may be serving as an artillery observation post. I think I can see the wires from the field telegraph strung down the face of the campanile from the O.P. Or maybe it’s just the lightning rod.

The heavy ordinance is answered with the rattle of small arms fire coming, I think, from the south of Calle Lunga San Barnaba, single shot sniper fire, and occasionally repeating firearms, the occasional shotgun blast. I expect the battle to move east as the evening progresses, to the Piazza, where a concert themed on “Love” is to be held. With reasonable good fortune, it will sound like the closing parts of 1812.

Bang.

Crash.

It may sound threatening, but Venice is ramping up for Capo d’Anno.

Continuing to follow you (I'm a sort of stalker!) We're going back in 2012.

Happy New Year from 'ere, Pete and Lou!

New Year’s Day – Venice 2011.

We went to the Piazza for a look at the New Years Eve celebration put on by the Commune d’ Venezia, had a gelato, and ran away. I can’t believe that a shouting disk jockey, every second word being “allora”, with exhortations to kiss somebody, is the best that Venice can provide. No live music, too stage managed, people saying happy things while reading them from a script. The patrons of Florians, drinking tea, looked somewhat bored. I understand that the disk jockey is a leading radio personality in Italy; in which case, he must owe his job to having the dirt on Berlusconi, maybe some raunchy photographs of the PM. So we decamped to Campo Margerita, where the local civil war was continuing.

It could have been Dublin, the Rising, Easter, 1916, Patrick Pearse leading the defence. The boys manning the mortar battery on the steps of the Scuole Grande d’ Carmini kept up a sustained barrage, despite cracker attack from the lads at the Ex Scuole dei Varoteri, and Madigan’s bar coming under small arms fire from the crew at the adjacent pizzeria. The staff at Madigans are to be commended, Daniel Manin would have been proud of them, for the way that they continued to serve spritzes despite the odd grenade rolling in the door, fizzers and whiz-bangs exploding behind the bar. All the while the bar maid maintaining a conversation on her mobile phone, pouring spritzes one handed.

The cost of spritzes doubled at midnight, maybe a reflection that it was a holiday, maybe a surcharge for the fact that glasses were unlikely to make it back into the bar, or maybe it was an ammunition levy. Hostilities became one-sided when the pizzeria pulled down the shutters, and Madigan’s ammo was exhausted. The smell of powder drifting across the campo, the occasional “whoomph” of H.E. in the distance.

The combatants settled their differences after running out of crackers, but not running out of alcohol, by singing revolutionary songs, a guy on harmonica, and a couple of blokes on acoustic. Revolutionary songs like “Blue suede shoes”, “Twist-a and shout-a”, “Happy Birthday”, “Jail-a House-a Rock”.

A most good-natured bunch of people, I wish them all, I wish everyone, Buon Anno and Augeri. New Years Day is pretty quiet, a lot of shutters not yet opened, even at 1:30 PM.

....after checking the San Marco webcam, decided to stay in - way too many people. However, I went to our rooftop terrace to watch the firework displays just before 12:15.

After reading your report, I am glad I didn't go. I read somewhere that soft music was going to be played at the piazza. Guess not.......

Lou often goes running in Venice. Campo San Barnaba / Rialto / San Marco and back via Acedemeia if it’s early and not too crowded, otherwise the Zattere, and back via the streets around the Guggenheim. Sometimes the greeting from others is Bravo, Bon giorno, or Ciao Bella (she likes that). Yesterday’s greeting, from a rubbish collector watching her approach on the Zattere was different – speaking in mime, but with words including “troppo troppo torte Natala”, gave her to infer “You’ve eaten too much Christmas cake”.

My lips are sealed.

It’s not a good idea to start a revolution in Venice. Don’t even think about starting one. Bajamonte Tiepolo tried it on 15th June 1310 and got himself into all sorts of trouble. Venetians are, I believe, great gossips and so word of Tiepolo’s revolution spread faster than his revolution. A little pitched battle the Piazza, and then Tiepolo plus followers retreated towards Rialto, via the Merceria. A woman dropped a heavy mortar on the rabble, killing Tiepolo’s standard bearer, and the revolution failed. She was rewarded by having the rent on her house fixed, and being allowed to hang the banner of Saint Mark from her balcony on June 15th, and all public holidays. There’s a statue of said woman erected in 1861, at Mercerie, San Marco 50. Tiepolo was lucky – he was exiled to Istria, and the Ponte Rialto went up in smoke as part of the “troubles”.

There’s a little follow up to this – Tiepolo lived at what is now Campo San Agostino in San Polo, and his house was razed to the ground as part of his punishment. A column recording this used to stand on the site, and was subsequently taken to a villa on Lake Como, but was returned to Venice by the last owner of the villa, Duchess Josephine Melzi-d’Eril Barbo. The column is now in the collection in the Ducal palace, but a tablet, with somewhat cryptic inscription, marks the spot, at 2304B, San Polo.

On the base of the flagpole in Campo San Luca are the arms of the fraternities that helped defeat Tiepolo – The Confraternity of Charity and the Guild of Painters.

Just up the way at San Polo 2311, Rio Tera Secondo, a tablet marks the site of Aldo Manuzio’s print shop. He lived from 1449 to 1515, and he opened his print shop in 1494. Gutenberg invented moveably type around 1440, and the first authorisation for a print shop was given to Giovanni da Spina in 1468, who printed the first book in Venice, the Letters of Cicero. It didn’t take long for moveable type to catch on, and there must have been an explosion in literature at that time.

Manuzio is credited with the invention of the Italic font in 1510 – devised so that more letters can be placed in a space, a brilliant invention. I’d never before associated “italic” and “Italy”, so there you go.

Venice is just full of these details – when San Marco and the Ducal Palace are jam packed with people as they are now, they are worth going in search of. I discovered the indoor bowling alley and community gardens in Dorsoduro the other day, and I’ve learned that Mark is the patron saint of shoe makers, after miraculously curing a cobbler, one Anianus, in Alexandria who had injured himself while repairing St Mark’s shoes in AD42. The statue (1446) recording the incident is in Campo San Toma, facing the church.

New Year’s Eve, the 31st December, we almost spent a day in the country, via Burano. The vaporetto trip to Burano is pretty ho-hum, except that just before you reach Mazzorbo you pass an island to starboard. It containd a ruined warehouse, that was a powder magazine before unfortunaltely blowing up.

Mazzorbo was a big town (Mazzorbo = Major Urbis in Latin = Big Town) but it is pretty quiet now, and the trattoria by the Mazzorbo vaporetto stop was closed when we alighted. From Mazzorbo, it’s a ten minute stroll across the bridge to the lace vendors and hard sell of Burano.

Legend has it (but it’s a bit of a Paolo Sarpi “truth not to everyone” kind of legend”) that the Burano houses were painted bright colours to enable easy homecoming for fisher-folk on the lagoon. Even land locked houses in the middle of a campo, were brightly painted, and I don’t believe that those fisher-folk on foot would have been so navigationally challenged as to need those colours. “Yep, my place is easy to find, it’s the blue one in the campo.”

An alternative explanation. During the Middle Ages, houses infected with plague were disinfected with white quicklime, whilst houses that escaped the plague were painted in bright colours. It makes sense, a kind of ego trip. “We’ve been spared, here’s the paint to prove it. We must be really pious, way more pious than those wicked people at number sixty seven, whose house is now painted a drab off-white.”

The house that belonged to Guiseppe Toselli, better known as Bepi Sua (Sweaty Bepi) is worth a look, in Via Al Gottolo, number 339, Burano. Bepi was born on Burano in 1920, painted his house in all the colours of the rainbow, sold sweets, a film lover, and worked as a projectionist at the Cinema Falvin in the ‘40’s. When the cinema closed down, he inherited the projector, and would show films in front of his house, which would have been a most intimate venue – it’s tiny. His other passion was painting, and his house shows it. When he died in 2002, the new owner restored the house, maintaining Bepi’s colour scheme. http://www.casabepi.it/ for some photos and explanation, which are fun. We liked discovering it.

Also on Burano, away from the Lace vendors (Burano/Beijing guaranteed) is the Casa del Professore, the house of Remigio Barbaro, known to locals as Il Professore. He was an insatiable collector, and the house shows it. Via Terranova 79, in the backblocks of Burano, to see a most unusual house (and not painted at all). The statue by the vaporetto stop, of a young woman, is by Barbaro, the statue entitled “Waiting for Peace”.

Traghetto (diesel powered) over to Torcello, and the vap steams along the canal like the African Queen, sans Bogart and Hepburn, charming however. Torcello really is country, despite Cipriani’s manicured lawns and well-ordered rose and herb gardens. We walked out past the church, crossed the canal, and were in the country, on the edge of the lagoon. Cold, cold enough for ice to be forming on the edges of the canal, and for frost to be on the roof of the church all day. Wooden piles being sunk to support the banks of the canal, work that continues all over the lagoon, but maybe a bit late for Torcello.

Torcello, once home to many thousands of people, now home to about thirty souls. It can make you think a little.

Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!


A funny conjunction today. I was wandering along the portico of the Doge’s Palace, taking a detailed look at the capitals of the columns, which spell out the Seven Deadly Sins, signs of the Zodiac, the seasons, and a heap of other details. A couple of kids had A4 pages in their hands, writing down the names of the fruits and vegetables on a column facing the Piazzeta, following a treasure hunt.

I wrote that treasure hunt and posted it on Fodors two years ago. I must confess that I took some pleasure in being able to contribute to their Venetian pleasure.

Small world!

ref the colours of the houses on Burano, there is a tradition in the uK [and for all i know, elsewhere] of painting seaside houses in bright colours.

for example in Appledore [the north Devon one, where the shipyard is,] almost every house is painted a different bright colour [my preference is for a particular bright blue we christened Appledore blue].

and on a recent visit to Aberaeron, a fishing town on the mid wales coast, we found the same thing.

but I have no idea why these places should have adopted this habit - like you I doubt that it's got much to do with fishermen's homecomings.

BTW, how nice to see your treasure hunt being put to such good use. did you not feel an urge to go over and claim it as yours?

Amazing, amazing descriptions, Peter. Loved seeing the google map birds-eye view of your secret garden, which theoretically (i.e if you know where you're going!) is only 5 min walk from our b and b . (Also if you see this, elenem, thank you for link to other gardens.)
Happy New Year!!

Re: Lou running, and the remarks. "Yesterday’s greeting, from a rubbish collector watching her approach on the Zattere was different – speaking in mime, but with words including “troppo troppo torte Natala”, gave her to infer “You’ve eaten too much Christmas cake”."

I reckon he was meaning "Mamma mia. Che bella figura!"

Monday January 3rd, and the Christmas hordes have mostly moved on. It’s been busy these last days, a lot of people crowding the streets, fleets of half a dozen gondolas parading with piano accordion accompaniment. It must be unbearable in June, with many more people and hot weather.

Napoleon Bonaparte “invaded” Venice in April 1797, when a French frigate sailed through the Porto de Lido and entered the lagoon – and no other ship had dared such a venture since about 1300. At least it would not have interfered with Carnivale, and some one hundred and thirty six casinos did a brisk trade in the city at that time, as did a great many courtesans. It would have been like invading, say, Las Vegas. The Venetian Guild of Hairdressers claimed over eight hundred members – and this in a population of about 120 thousand.

The ship was duly boarded, looted, and the commander killed. Good enough reason for Napoleon to go to war, so he did. It must have been like having a boxing match with a feather mattress. Doge Manin relinquished his office; the horses from St Marks were trucked out along with other works of art. The thing that is interesting is that the Napoleonic era ushered in some significant civic improvements.

Napoleon was a good administrator (although making war outside Moscow in the dead of winter comes to mind as a contradiction), so hospitals were built, a few churches demolished, the Via Garibaldi created – maybe as a convenient means of moving troops to quell unruly ex-Arsenal workers in east Castello.

We (i.e. visitors like me) see Venice as a static place, a bunch of buildings on a set of islands, connected by bridges. When you go looking though, there are all sorts of traces of things that have gone, churches demolished, canals filled in, Rio Terra Antonio Fosca replacing the Rio Antonio Fosca and so on. In San Marco, just outside the entry to the Correr Museum, is a plaque noting the demolition of the Church of San Geminiano, demolished in 1807. And outside Florians, there’s a plaque noting the demolition of the first church of Saints Geminiano and Menas. That church had been built in the 6th century, and the wrecking ball went through it in the 13th.

Campo Manin was created by “losing” a church – it was put up for auction but, failing to find a bid, was torn down. The church of Santa Croce was demolished, and all that remains to mark the spot is a column embedded in the wall of Fondamenta del Monastero, but at least the Giardino Papadopoli resulted. A Palladian church yielded to the railway station.

Napoleon “gave” Venice to the Austrians, after taking souvenirs for himself, appropriate for the King of Italy, as he so proclaimed himself. Souvenirs like a fleet of galleys, that were thumped in battle by Nelson, and paintings that made their way to Paris, and of course the horses (which were war booty anyway, taken by Venetians from Constantinople).

Austrian rule followed, and over the door of San Marco 2945, the Venetian Institute of Arts and Letters, in Campo san Stefano, remains the only trace of the Austrians that I’ve seen in Venice (other than the sites of demolished buildings). The inscription over the door reads “K.K. STADSUNDFESTUNGS COMMANDO”. I failed German at school – I recollect my school report noted “Has not worked at all in German”, so I can’t offer a translation.

Maybe Venice can be regarded as a gallery of long standing, with works on display that change over time. I’m so enjoying exploring the changing exhibits.

This is so wonderful. I wish Fodors had some kind of way of identifying "classics" --a separate thread or something, maybe a way to search trip reports by locations or to look for threads on the basis of largest numbers of responses. This would surely be at the top on all counts. Thanks so much for all your work to keep this going.

Peter- without looking it up, I would hazzard a guess at "city and monuments department".

I’ve never much understood the electoral system in the USA – What is the Electoral College, does it award degrees? The American system though, is simplicity itself compared to the process for appointing a Doge. Start with the Great Council, about 1000 important people.
Select nine of them by lot.
Those nine elect forty electors, each of those forty getting seven out of nine votes.
Select twelve of the forty by lot.
Those twelve then elect twenty-five more electors.
Nine of those twenty-five are selected by lot.
Those nine then elect a group of forty-five.
Eleven of the forty-five are selected by lot.
Those eleven then elect a group of forty-one.
Those forty-one then elect a Doge, who has to obtain at least twenty-five of the forty-one votes. (I acknowledge Morris for details of this contorted process.)

One can imagine the deliberations.

“How about we give the job to Dandolo, good family, his great great great great grandfather was a good performer at Constantinople? Took the city when he was near blind, and aged eighty eight. That Dandolo DNA should count for something, eh?”

“No, no, Giacomo. His wife is ugly, her hairdresser is on notice of being expelled from the Guild for incompetence, I have eaten the worst meals in my life at his table, his cellar is unmentionable, he dresses appallingly and is in debt to half the Rialto for his gambling losses. Let’s give Manin the gig – it will come as a bit of a surprise to him.”

Newcomen invented the first practical steam engine in 1712, and the last Doge, Manin, was elected by that amazing process in 1789, to give a little historical perspective. By then the office of Doge was so emasculated as to be almost irrelevant – and the process of electing Doge would have taken months. On hearing that he had been elected Doge, Manin is reported to have burst into tears and fainted. In 1796, Manin dispensed with the Ducal hat, handing it to a servant, who kept it as a souvenir, and some 3,231 French troops were conveyed into the Piazza, in a fleet of forty boats, graciously provided by the Venetians. Probably on favourable terms of charter, echoing Doge Dandolo’s provision of ships to the soldiers of the Fourth Crusade, in exchange for invading Constantinople.

It must have been an interesting scene in the Piazza that day. Battle hardened, war begrimed French troops, but with their webbing freshly pipe-clayed, being met by Venetians who were dressed to kill.

The three flagpoles in front of the Basilica represent the three kingdoms conquered by Venice over time, Cyprus, Candia – now the modern day Crete, and Morea – now the Peloponnese. (Cyprus can hardly claim to have been conquered, having been gained via the contract of marriage between the Venetian Caterina Cornaro to James II de Luisignan, King of Cyprus. The contract stipulated that Cyprus would pass to Caterina if the king died without heir, and some say that Venetians poisoned the unfortunate son born to the couple. Now, that’s a pre-nuptial agreement that even Paolo Sarpi, who told the truth not to everyone, would be proud of.

Cyprus was lost to the Turks in 1571, the last Venetian governor Mercantonio Bragadin, holding out under siege for a year. As punishment for being so difficult to deal with, the Turks skinned him alive. There is a mercifully difficult to see fresco in the Church of Santi Giovanni e Paolo (San Zanipolo) in Castello showing the punishment, and his skin, having been retrieved from the Turks in 1580 by a Venetian slave, one Gerolamo Polidori, resides in an urn at the altar to Bragadin. The urn was opened in 1961, just to check, so to speak, and the skin was found to be in good condition. Don’t count on the urn being opened again in the near future.

Once Napoleon took Venice, the flagpoles were seen as a symbol of tyranny by some, and should be removed. Demolition was avoided by re-defining what the flagpoles stood for. Let’s just replace Cyprus, Candia and Morea with Freedom, Virtue and Equality. Problem solved, just like re-naming the “Last Supper” as “The Feast in the House of Levi” in the Accademia – Venetian pragmatism at its finest.

For those inclined, the axis of the Basilica does not coincide with the Piazza, it’s inclined. There’s a brass survey monument about an inch in diameter to mark the axis of the Basilica, set in the white marble tiling at the very edge of the portico. It is just to the left of the Sotoportico del’Arco Celeste, as you face the Sotoportego. It only took Lou and I about half an hour to find, and that’s the luxury of time in this city. The centre flagpole (Candia, Virtue, or now just plain ol’ Venice, Italy or the EU) does not quite coincide with the axis of the Basilica.

I’m not a great fan of the area around Rialto, except for the fish and vegetable markets, and the areas where the boats unload. That’s fun to see in the mornings. But when you walk over the bridge, towards San Marco, amongst the shops selling questionable Murano glass and AC Milan football shirts, on the left there’s a shop that used to be an apothecary, the “Alla Testa d’ Oro”, “at the Golden Head”. High up on the façade is a bronze head, and while being jostled by the crowds and bumped by wheely bags that have just made the transit from San Polo to San Marco, you can just make out the inscription “Theriaca d’Andromaco”.

Theriaca or teriaca was a universal herbal remedy, produced in Venice by a number of apothecaries, who had to be licensed by the State. The ingredients were displayed for three days (the ingredients including live vipers, so the display would have been worth sighting) before the whole lot was pulped by pestle and mortar, cooked in a cauldron (caldo is Italian for hot) and bottled. Outside the pharmacy in San Stefano, the stones have circular indents where the cauldron feet stood, or maybe where the pestle and mortar was placed.

After the Republic fell in 1797, the Golden Head was the only apothecary to continue production, and the teriaca that they made was so well regarded that that were allowed to cook up three batches a year, and was a specialty of the place as early as 1603. Their recipe included opium, but regulations introduced in the 1940’s required this ingredient to be omitted.

And now the Golden Head is just another glass shop! But at least there is still the legacy of the apothecary. But meanwhile, in Cannaregio, you can see the original fit-out of your higher class apothecary, at the Ercole d’Oro, near Santa Fosca. This apothecary was famous for a laxative product, and especially for Mitridato, made from herbs and an oily extract from beaver glands, named for King Mithridates VI (132-63 BC) who was famous for his immunity to poisons (or maybe his Chamberlain had a ready source of food tasters).

There’s another shop legacy which is fun, in the same part of the world. As you walk towards the Ferrovia, on the San Marco side of the Rialto, you’ll cross the bridge by Coin, and at the next bridge, on the right, there’s a shoe shop. It used to be a toy shop, and if you look up, there’s a big Donald Duck in a window, made of Lego.

The fish market is new, in Venetian terms, from around 1907. It contains an old thing, though, if you walk around the back of the market, to where the stairs lead to the offices upstairs. In the 16th century Erasmus of Rotterdam translated the Greek saying into Latin, “piscis primum a capite foetet”, which won’t surprise any fish-buying housewife, as it means “fish begins to stink from the head”. Taken more broadly, I suppose it means that the stink of corruption will come from the head of an organization. Enron, Marcos, Huey Long and those Wall Street banks come to mind.

The metal doors under the stairs display this saying, a reminder that the people running the market should take care to be honest.

There are little things like this all over Venice. Probably not worth travelling all the way from the Mulino Stucky to see, but worth a three-minute detour if you are in the area. Coming from Australia, with just over 200 years of “European” history, the age of these details never ceases to engage and enthuse me. Well, maybe not the Lego duck, but Donald is still fun.

Still enjoying this very much Peter, and anticipating printing it off to take with us next time to remind us of the out of the way sights you've discovered - thanks ! That Jonglez book looks like a good recommendation too.

But I think you have an overly pessimistic image of what Venice is like in the summer. We've nearly always been in June (plus once in September) and don't have much trouble with crowds - you really only need to get just off the the main drag in a few hotspots, like the streets immediately off Piazza San Marco and either side of the Rialto Bridge, and it's not busy - in fact I'd describe the vast majority of the place as really quiet and peaceful. On our first visit we booked in advance to visit the most obvious sights, i.e. St Mark's Basilica, the Doges' Palace and the Accademia, and walked straight in. And when we went up the San Giorgio campanile we had it to ourselves ! The only time I really remember a bad queue anywhere was once to get into the Giardini for the Biennale, when we went there on the day the Arsenale is closed and got there before it opened. Of course I'd like to be in Venice all year round, but if I can only go once a year I like the summer for the light evenings and being able to dine outside - but then I can't do that at home and you can.

HI Caroline, dining al freco is not on our agenda here. I was able to get a reading of the temperature this afternoon, by way of a photograph with tele lens of the thermometer over the road on the windowsill. You’ll know the place. When blown up, it indicated about zero degrees Celsius. So alfresco dining, or Lou doing watercolour en pleain air, is not on the agenda. But lunch outside on the terrace would be nice, so next trip, it will be Feb and March for us.

We find too that if you avoid the main drag, then crowds are not too bad, although I believe that Carnivale can be tricky. It’s the places off that main Rialto/St Marco route that are the most interesting, and the back blocks of Castello can be intrieguing – most visitors don’t ever get to see the remnants of the Castello gasworks – and yet it is the existence of the gasworks that can confirm the fact that Venice is a real place, not just a gondola-themed amusement park.

I envy you being here at a time when the Arsenale could be entered – surely the greatest unexplored treasure of all Venice.

Cheers

Peter (who eats outside frequently in Melbourne)

What an ingenious way of reading the temperature ! I don't remember the thermometer, but is this the place with the cats ?

I agree it is the back routes which are the most interesting - and which lead us most to dream that we could one day live there, sigh. Last time we followed the walks in 'Brunetti's Venice' - the book has its flaws but it took us to places we hadn't been before and we found it was very good for slowing us down and getting us to make a real effort to take in as much as possible (we were typically taking 1-2 days to do each 2-4 hour walk !). But I'm afraid I don't have your fantastic skills of observation, left to myself - after reading Jan Morris for the first time, this time last year, I felt as if I must have been walking round with my eyes closed !

You don't get to see that much of the Arsenale from the 'normal' Biennale exhibition there, which is basically contained within an L shaped brick warehouse (I read somewhere this is a mile long). It has no windows but there is an open area at the far end, with a few other outbuildings containing exhibits and adjoining a body of water in what looks like an old docks area.

However, last Biennale there was a less official and to us more exciting 'Arsenale Novissimo' area of exhibitions in warehouses on the other side of this body of water and it could be approached either by a (presumably specially hired) water taxi from the official space, or through the outside Arsenale wall (the really high one) on the north of the island. It was all very exciting - we got the vaporetto to Celestia (a request stop !), turned left over the bridge and walked along a metal walkway halfway up the Arsenale wall until we found an open doorway which didn't look very convincing but seemed the only option, descended a staircase into a giant hall half full of machinery & whatnot but no people, made our way through to the next warehouse and suddenly there was art ! Still no people though. The exhibitions on that side were all very interesting, wandering through the various warehouses etc (some apparently housing modern day businesses) was exciting and there was even, rather bizarrely, a lovely garden there. When we'd done, we got the water taxi over the water to the official exhibition - doubtless the only time I'll go in one and so also exciting, albeit only going at about walking speed ! This would all have been within the Arsenale's outer walls but I feel there are probably more impressive and historic parts to it which we haven't seen - I think the best impression I've got of those parts is still just looking through the gap in the walls at the front, in the area apaprently still occupied by the military.

Caroline, Morris is fun. I’ve got a copy of the 1993 edition here with me, that I’ve cross referenced against some enlarged maps (OK, pretty anal, but I’m an engineer by trade) and it makes for a different experience when the small things are identified. Tiny things, like Salizzada delle Gatte – the Paved Alley of the Female Cats – a corruption of Papal Legates, whose palace was nearby. Those sorts of details make one think, did that corruption occur because Venice was having yet another dispute with Rome. Who knows, but it’s fun to consider. It certainly makes for many pauses and backtracks when walking around.

I think that spending the time here has given me a different view of history, but it is hard to get it into perspective, trying to think, what was happening in Venice when Columbus sailed west, did Agincourt have any impact on the FTSI on the Rialto, how did the Rialto financiers and insurers adjust their rates when de Gama made it to India in 1498, changing the market for spices. Did the price of coal escalate when the Arsenale was being pressed to produce cannon balls in a hurry, and did the populace thus have difficulty heating their homes? Were there special plantations in the Veneto, growing trees for oars, given that a galley sailed with about ten tons of oars on board?

I think that is why Venice has got under my skin. The more time I spend here, the more questions are thrown up. Answers don’t come so easily, so one reads and wanders around.

Did you read the directions on the Casa Bepi link?

"First of all you need to come to Italy"

"remember to looking for us in Burano not in Murano"

"we'll take you up and we'll make you visit it!! "

Yesterday was Epiphany, the end of the official Christmas season. My knowledge of scripture is scant, and I’d always thought that Epiphany may have been a cousin of John Betjeman’s nanny, Myfanwy, a nice Welsh lass. But I’m wrong – Epiphany celebrates the arrival of the Magi in the stable, the last phase of the Christmas story, the Son of God being revealed to Gentiles. There’s a witch story associated, and this too is celebrated in Venice with a small regatta. (When in doubt as to how to celebrate anything in Venice, a regatta is as good as anything.)

If you are walking from Academia to San Marco, the most direct route will take you past the Church of Santa Maria del Giglio. There is the inevitable souvenir stand, selling the inevitable souvenirs, and also a shop selling, like, ditto. The shop is interesting – not for product, but for architecture. In the 1500 woodcut by Jacopo de’Barbari, “View of Venice”, there is an unfinished bell tower shown before Santa Maria del Giglio. The bell tower was completed in the 16th Century, and leaned at such an angle that its demolition was ordered in 1775. It was meant to be rebuilt, but some things, like Peggy Guggenheim’s palazzo, never get finished. Works continued up to four or five metres, and then seem to have stopped. A tile roof was slapped on, and now the stump of the tower is used as the above mentioned souvenir shop. I think it is one of very few campaniles in Venice, finished or otherwise, that you can walk right around.

The façade of Santa Maria del Giglio (St Mary of the Lily) is the ego wall to end them all. It details the exploits of the Barbaro family, who financed the construction – or rather, re-construction – of the church in 1678. The main statues are the five Barbaro brothers, and Christian virtues are mostly not depicted on the façade, save for Virtue, Honour, Fame and Wisdom – it is Barbaro Central. Antonio Barbaro, the chief figure, may have self-inflated his ego somewhat, as he was dismissed from Francesco Morosini’s fleet for incompetence. It does make the ego wall of my periodontist look a little scant by comparison.

Loving all the detail in your report, Peter. We plan to put this info to good use when we are there end of April. (I'm concerned about the possible crowds, though. We planned this before we realized we would be there in the crunch between Easter and the May 1 holiday).

You may need a pharmacy sometime in Venice, hopefully for nothing serious, maybe you forgot your toothpaste. In that case, try the pharmacy “All’Ercole d’Oro”. It is on the main drag from the Ferrovia to Rialto. You’ll pass Paola Sarpi’s statue on the left, then the church of Santa Fosca, and then about 50 yards on your right is the pharmacy. It’s been there for some time. Beside the modern pharmacy is preserved the old spizeria, with jars for exotic ingredients. It’s worth a look, even if you only need toothpaste. You can look in through the windows, and it’s OK to go inside for a closer look.

You can almost hear the echoes of long gone conversations:

“How’s that sword wound coming along, Giuseppe?”

“Recovering well, I’m using scorpion oil on it. It is the same treatment that Sarpi used after that failed assassination that was commissioned by Rome. He took a dagger in the cheek, you know, and all that is left now is a scar.”

There’s this common statement that “Venice is sinking”, implying that if you don’t see Venice pronto, then there’ll be nothing left to see. The rising water, increasing frequency of aqua alta, is certainly a problem.

The Christmas holidays have finished, and Venice seems full of tradesmen hammering away at facades, digging up streets to fix water mains, replacing gas lines (Vietato Fumare!). That sinking feeling is being countered by some pretty serious repair work. In Campo Margarita, there are at least half a dozen places having work done to them. Rendering being fixed, roofs re-tiled, a lot of work being done. The level of skill impresses me. One shop that we’ve patronised has had a heap of bricks stripped, and a small piece of stone – the size of a goose egg – dislodged from the stone windowsill. The piece of stone has been carefully kept, and it will be replaced.

It is a quiet time now, a lot of bars and eating places closed for several weeks, fewer cameras and maps seen on the streets, the last of the New Year’s fireworks thankfully discharged. The students are back, including a bunch of American students that I encountered at Billa last night. Enjoying the (probably) new experience for them of being legally allowed to buy alcohol. Alcohol is cheap here (we drink wine at about 2.99 euro a bottle) so those students may be in for a life changing experience.

We’ve been in Italy for eight weeks now. I have been ripped off totally once by a cab driver in Rome, slightly exploited (or rather, Lou was exploited) buying a dodgy set of watercolours, which have been proven to be photocopies. But oh, how we’ve had lovely transactions. We commissioned a watercolour from Giordio Ghidoli, an artist that we like, of a building that we like, and he’s done it. We can see ourselves as patrons of the arts in Venice, and the painting will be a treasure. I’d asked him if he had any studies of an oil that he’d done of the San Sofia traghetto, and no, he hadn’t. He’d sold the study I’d seen two years ago. But when we went to collect the watercolour, he indicated “You might be interested in this”. A pastel of the traghetto, arriving on the San Sofia side of the Grand Canal. It captures the stillness as the traghetto pulls in, the bow oarsman reaching for the post, the stern oar just guiding, the arches of the Pescheria just faintly shown, the passengers disinterested in what is happening because they’ve seen it a thousand times.

Ghidoli drew that, knowing that I’d not be able to resist it. Molto Veneziano!

Lou’s bought some bits and pieces from the linen shop in Calle Lunga San Barnaba, and this has opened some doors for her. She’s made contact with a former employee of the shop, keen to develop her skills in English, and Lou wants Italian conversation. Bingo. Lou buys the drinks, and they talk for an hour, half the time in Italian, half in English. And Annalie, who has the shop, has advised the postman that a parcel that we’re expecting should be left with her, as it won’t fit in our mail box. Small connections in the cosmos, but we like it. Two fingers raised in the Ai Artisti bar of a morning is now enough to indicate “Due cappucci, per fervour” for breakfast, help yourself to brioche.

I suppose it was inevitable that after a while here, we’d have to visit some of the big-ticket things. We were not able to see the library at the hospital of San Marco as it was closed, so that will have to wait for next time, but we did see a 500 year old graffiti on the façade of the hospital, of a man holding a bleeding heart in his hand. We visited the Academia, and while the endless altar pieces don’t reach me, the scenes of Venice and the Carpachio paintings certainly can enlighten and amise. I’m still trying to find a good explanation of “The Feast at the House of Levi”. While the story of the title change is well known, I’d love to know why he put in the Germans, the dwarves, the man with a bleeding nose. And is that Thomas, Doubting Thomas, the Apostle to the left of the painting with the fork in his hand.

Today we also visited the Museum of Modern Art at the Ca’s Pesaro. It was fun to see inside, a little linkage with the portrait of the Pesaro family in the Frari, and I can really understand why young Pesaro looked so arrogant – I’ve now looked at the house he was to inherit.

I was not sure what to expect, the Venetian take on Modern Art. In Melbourne, Modern Art means mostly non-representational art, probably 1920 onwards. But in Venice, time has a different scale, and “Modern” seems to start at about 1850. It is a great collection, Venice-centric, or at least Italy-centric, not a huge collection, but of great depth.

There’s a sculpture there called “Mourning the Dead” (I think) by a Belgian sculptor. I’ve never seen a more heart-wrenching portrayal of a grief stricken family, the small gestures that say so much.

Peter, glad to read that the Venetians are still doing what they do best - fleecing the tourists!

The Feast at the House of Levi I have always considered was a joke that went wrong - he put in people he knew and they took offence!

The church of San Pietro di Castello does not see a lot of visitors, but there’s a nice symbol of the rather testy relationship between the Doges (residing at San Marco) and the Patriarchs of Venice (residing at the Palazzio Patriacale in Castello, at least until 1807, when Napoleon decided that St. Marks should be the city cathedral).

If you visit, look for a white paving stone set in the path from Calle Larga San Pietro to the door of the church. The stone is equidistant from the church door and what would have been the landing stage for the Ducal barge. The Doge and Patriarch would meet at this exact spot when the Doge visited San Pietro. The stone created a meeting point, the Doge not having to walk all the way to the door, the Patriarch not having to walk all the way to greet the Doge as he disembarked. Temporal and secular honour being maintained with a mere paving stone.

San Pietro stands in stark contrast to many of the Venetian churches, its campanile clad in Istrian stone – the only stone clad campanile in Venice. Unlike the Frari and San Zanipolo, both of which churches host monuments to dead Doges, San Pietro hosts many dead patriarchs. There are no monuments to Canova, Titian or whoever, no Negroes holding the ugliest monument in all of Venice. The interior is plain, filled with light, and somehow retains its spiritual feeling, a place of faith rather than monumental architecture. A fragment of Roman mosaic retained in front of one of the altars, the back of the church serving as the west wall for the adjacent boat yard.

Worth a visit if you’ve got a lazy hour or two.

Did you notice all the ornately carved, and very uncomfortable looking chairs, almost thrones? There was no one around to ask about them. I guess the upper echelon of the church perched there.

Still with you and learning a lot, Peter - thank you. How much longer have you got ?

Friday 14th January, and we leave on Friday 21st January, so there’s a week to go. Only a week! How can this be? Something’s totally wrong. This is not good.

So today started with a couple of typically Venetian things.

First typically Venetian thing: cappuccino e’ brioche at Ai Artisti for breakfast.

Second typically Venetian thing: waiting for the traghetto at Palazzo Salvati to get across the Grand Canal to S.M. Giglio. The traghetto guys were on the San Marco side, must have seen us waiting, and totally ignored us. There’s no way that they were going to cross the Grand Canal, collect two people, and row back to the San Marco side for a measly one euro, the price of a coffee. I can’t say I blame them, either.

Walked down to the Salute, to visit the church, sans the press of people who made it impossible to see during the festival of the Salute on 21st November, which seems like an age ago. There are a whole lot of architectural details that I’d not known about the Salute, references to numerology. The number 8 crops up all over the place. Eight refers to the symbol of health and hope, the church is eight sided, sixteen rises to the steps on the podium, eight steps down to the Grand Canal. Interesting, if you hook into the Kabbalah thing. Dan Brown could have a field day with this.

One of Venice’s less visited “sights’ is the Palazzo Grimani in Castello, near the Campo Santa Maria Formosa. It’s worth a visit, and we enjoyed it. There’s an exhibition of the paintings of Bosch right now, finishing in March I believe, but the building itself is worth seeing. It’s been heavily restored, yet retains enough of the frescoes to allow one to see how a Palazzo worked. There’s the main stair to the Piano Nobili (for nobles to use) and the winding spirals for the servants to use to keep them out of sight of the nobles. A children’s room, with frescoed ceiling and exhortations on the walls – “Waste not, not want not” – the usual things, plus pictures of barn yard animals. A dining room, with pictures of game and fish. The Bosch paintings are pretty special, and seeing them hung in the Palazzo Grimani is special too – the Grimani family patronised, or at least bought, paintings by Bosch. It might be a palazzo, but you can see still how it was home to a family as well. If you visit, and Italian/English dictionary helps, as the room descriptions are in Italian only.

The Church of San Francesco della Vigne, over by what is left of the gasworks (started in 1841 by the De Frigiere-Cortin-Mongolfier company) has a couple of quiet cloisters, and the church contained, when we visited, Lou, me, the odd Tintoretto and a couple of Tiepolo works. It seems amazing that one can be let lose amongst such priceless things. A statement about trust, people doing the right thing. There’s an adjacent convent, and you can feel the female hand in the way the church is organised. Flowers, parish newspapers, a depiction of how a family should observe Christmas in appropriate fashion, and no less than 28 places where coins can be deposited. We lost count at 28.

To the Celestia vap stop, in search of a bar. There is always a bar at a vap stop, but not at Celsestia, so we got lucky. It’s funny how things can come about, how you can get lucky. OK, no bar, but there’s a walkway, a sort of steel fondamenta, along the north wall of the Arsenale, so we strolled along it, and what an eye opener it was.

The Arsenale was in the business of mass production of ships, and the ironmongery needed for them. It’s hard to get an idea of the scale of the production, but when you can look in through a window and see a line of about twenty five individual forges, you can get an idea of the scale of manufacture there. Those forges have been abandoned; not seeing a live coal for probably 200 years, but you can still get an idea of how busy it would have been then. Dante’s inferno, to be sure, twenty five smiths, twenty five strikers, plus who knows how many on the bellows, others carrying coal. I can imagine the activity. The hot metal shop has been re-roofed, but otherwise not much touched, so the industrial heritage is just preserving itself, waiting in a way to be rediscovered. But maybe it’s not what people come to Venice to see, so it may well rest as it is for another 200 years, undiscovered. I think that the more that I see, the more I come to understand that Venice has been an industrial as well as an artistic and commercial centre.

Junghans once had a factory on Giudecca, making watches, precision instruments, timers and dets for grenades. Junghan’s factory has been converted to university uses, and I was surprised when I saw a Corte Junghans on Giudecca – the letter “J” is not used in the Italian language, and Junghans does not appear on my street finder.

Ferry from the Bacini stop (press the button to ensure that the ferry stops there, it’s a request stop) over to the Lido. I can imagine that the Lido quite hums along in Summer, but in Winter it is, well, quiet. We walked over to the public beach at the Lido, to find beach structures dreamed up by the same set of architects that would have done the Ferrovia, everything circular. Dipped our toes in the Adriatic, and took the first photos of the trip with no people in them. If you were familiar with the art of the Australian, Jeffrey Smart, then you’d know the feeling. Depopulated somewhat industrial landscapes, a single figure placed in the painting for contrast. Can’t show a photo, but it feels like this: http://camtas.com.au/catalog/wvgn78_l_63774.htm

So that’s been today, mostly spent in the more remote parts of this curious place.

An interesting conjunction. From the description of our apartment, by the owners:
“The little house in Venice was our father's home. He bought it in the early 60s and had it remodelled by a talented student of the famous Italian architect, Carlo Scarpa.”

Then the fun begins – little linkages being created, heading off down a little visual and intellectual path. OK, how does our apartment reflect Scarpa’s work. Our pharmacist in South Melbourne told us about a tour he’d taken in America, looking at the work of Frank Lloyd Wright, and we saw his photos of Falling Water, etc.

Scarpa was influenced by Wright.

Our apartment was designed by Scarpa’s student.

OK, better go and look at some of Scarpa’s work in Venice, the Olivetti showroom in San Marco, the entry to the University Institute of Architecture in Santa Croce, where a door frame has been laid on its side, the monument to the Female Resistance Fighter near the Giardini, the work in the Accademia . A picture emerges, a way of seeing things, a certain style. And that style is reflected in our apartment, the way that timber has been used, and also in the details of a few places that we’ve seen in Venice, a doorknob here, a steel grille there. Details that have been copied from Scarpa’s work, and once you know it, they stand out.

Little linkages that create a thread, a story. There’s more to this place than the Basilica and the Ducal Palace.

You found some terrific places in the past few days! Thanks for mentioning the Bosch exhibition at Palazzo Grimani, it'll still be on when it's my turn to visit Venice.

how did the time fly past so fast, Peter?

how will we cope without your regular bulletins from venice?

how long til you go back?

(Lou) How will we cope until we come back?
2 long years.....

I am going to miss this... can imagine how hard it will be for you to leave.

Two years ago, we wanted to have coffee at Quadris, in the sun. The only sunny day was when Quadri’s was under about six inches of water, so that coffee never happened.

But today, glorious sunshine, and so we rented a table at Quadris for an hour and a half, watching people come and go, the Japanese bridal party wandering around in a slightly bereft fashion, and potential clients looking at the prices and declining service. Quadris threw in a couple of spritzes along with the table rental, so it was a pretty good deal for 21 euro. Mission accomplished, and if the sun shines again, we’ll spend another hour or two just watching the people, the by-play between the waiters, the pigeons, and playing “guess the nationality”.

Lou was the “guess the nationality” winner today, correctly spotting that the foursome beside us were from Molvania, a land untouched by modern dentistry. The acrylic tracksuit pants were a dead giveaway, though.

Taking refreshments at a cafe that's been in business for about 500 years.

Quadris threw in a couple of spritzes along with the table rental, so it was a pretty good deal for 21 euro>>

LOL Peter - was that one spritz each or two? we spent last weekend in Paris where table rental appears to be €10 for about 30 mins [ie one drink each] so Quadris is pretty comparable.

I haven't played "guess the nationality" in a formal sense - have you worked out a scoring system? do obscure nationalities count higher than more common ones? how did Lou know that she was right about the Molvanians - did you ask them?

Pete

I'm not ready for you to come home yet!

Nor am I!

you really only need to get just off the the main drag in a few hotspots, like the streets immediately off Piazza San Marco and either side of the Rialto Bridge, and it's not busy -

√Agree and it may be because the tour groups often allot 2 days to Venice-there's no time for further exploration.

Molvania, a land untouched by modern dentistry

√Oh Dear! DH and I composed their life stories while people watching. In Venice in March, we came upon university graduation festivities. The students compose their own life stories (illustrated) on a poster-sized paper. They then read it aloud. If they make omissions, they are drenched or floured (or both) and everyone sings a song beginning "dottore, dottore....". Did you happen upon such in Dec/January?

Ann, the formal rules for “Guess the Nationality” are not as yet fully documented, but to give you a guide:
Maple leaves on clothing – half a point, as exceptionally obvious.
Young women saying “Like, you know, awesome” – two points, as they could be English, American or Australian.
Women with 3,000 euro furs. Three points, as they could be Italian, French, or maybe Austrian. Bonus points if one can spot that they are the “companion” of a Milanese business tycoon, or a politician.

Molvanians – ten points. Molvavians are scarce on the tourist circuit, but the astute observer can pick them because they look like Mafia, have moustaches, and may be carrying handguns. However the men can be identified because they wear Cossack-type boots, and wear gold jewellery. Interestingly, the Patron Saint of Molvania is St Fyodor, a corruption of Theodore, or maybe Fodor. It is hard to tell.

For a more detailed view of Molvania, you might refer to this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Molvan%C3%AEa

This useful guide book is a companion volume to Phaic Tan – Sunstroke on a Shoestring, and San Sombrero, a land of Carnivals, Cocktails and Coups. Molvania, Phaic Tan and San Sombrero would be available at any poor bookshop. According to the book the "full and technically correct" name of San Sombrèro is the "Democratic Free People’s United Republic of San Sombrèro", and citizens may be arrested, without a warrant, if the title is not used.

Peter- you may have missed the Moldavian/Phaic Tan/Sombrero's Christmas cookbook contribution- Audrey Gordon's Tuscan Summer: Recipes & Recollections from the heart of Italy. In this best selling addition to the range
Audrey informs us that "my book is essrntially a practical guide that will help you plan and carry off everything from a lazy Sunday brunch with friends to a formal sit-down banquet for 300 lactose-intolerant, diabetic vegans with severe peanut allergies...". "As well as mouth-watering recipes, Audrey presents evocative reflections on the timeless beauty of everyday Tuscan life, along with her thoughts on the inadequacies of Italy's motorway system." She did not, however, spot any Molvavians

Enjoy your last few days in Venice- your contributions have been a great pleasure & are sustaining me until my next visit

Peter, haven't you two see any young and quite sexy young women with shall we say much older Russian men while you are in Venice? As my Italian friends have often said "what they don't have regarding youth or looks they make up for with money.". Take care, I so enjoy your posts!

Peter, Scarpa also remodelled part of what is now the Fondazione Querini Stampalia, including a wonderful area inside the water gate which you negotiate via concrete slabs like stepping stones - it's really worth seeing. It's altogether a very interesting place to visit - you do pay to get in, but when we went there was all of the following to see/do/use, most of it permanent -

- the ground floor as remodelled by Scarpa
- a nice small garden at the back
- a country's Biennale virtual 'Pavilion' exhibition, also on the ground floor (Croatia maybe ?)
- the original library which is still used and which you can peek into
- a whole floor kept as it would have been in its days as a palace (18th C ?), with fairly interesting furnishings and paintings
- an extensive top floor space for temporary exhibitions of contemporary art - Mona Hatoum when we were there (there were also a few pieces placed into the historic rooms below which made for some fascinating juxtapositions)
- an arty gift shop
- a nice cafe

- so we thought it was good value.

I don't want you to leave either ! Hope you are having a really fantastic last week.

Caroline, I've got that on the list of things to see. I bought Carlo Scarpa, and Architectural guide (Arsenale Editrice, 11 euro) and I've so enjoyed reading the "thinking" behind his work. For that building, allowing the water to enter, and freely leave, is a different way of viewing water. There's a great dialogue between the built structures and the viewer / explorer / visitor.

A sort of summing up, advice, whatever.

For Australians, I’ve never seen a converter for Aussie type electrical three pin plugs on sale. Doesn’t mean that they don’t exist in Venice, but could be hard to find.

For Australians, we’ve been using ANZ travel cards, euro denominated, and never had rejection in ATMs.

Places we’ve stayed, which we thought were OK.
In Assisi, Hotel dal Moro Galery, and their resteraunt is good. Not eaxctly budget, but good. http://www.dalmorogalleryhotel.com/hotel_en.html

In Florence, Hotel Casci (pronounced “kashee”) http://www.hotelcasci.com/en/home.html

In Rome, a little B&B that was good for us, and well located. Some people have complained about noise, but we had a back room. http://www.venere.com/bandb/rome/bandb-best-pantheon/?sd=09&sm=12&sy=2010&ed=12&em=12&ey=2010&pval=2&rval=1#information;eur;swa20101209,20101212,2,1

In Chioggia, a bit off the tourist trail, but maybe if you go there, then you might like Hotel Caldins. http://www.venere.com/hotels/chioggia/hotel-caldins/?sd=24&sm=02&sy=2010&ed=25&em=02&ey=2010&rval=1&pval=1&ref=751128#location;eur;swa20100224,20100225,1,1

In Bologna, we stayed at http://www.albergodrapperie.com/chisiamo_en.php and it was good, well located, in the middle of the historic centre of Bologna.

In Verona, La Finestra sull'Arena worked well for Lou and her mother. There were about 75 steps up to their room – or actually a liitle suite – and the owner, Massimo, was really helpful to them.

Places in Venice.
Chets bar, as you walk from Campo Margherita towards Santa croce, on the left, pours a great spritz. About half the student population of Venice seems to agree, and so it is an active environment and fun.

In Campo San Barnaba, at the Bar Ai Artisti, the staff are friendly, pour a good spritz with the best olives, and a cappucino and croissant will cost you the princely sum of 2.20 euro.

In Calle Lunga San Barnaba, two places that we’ve eaten are La Bitta and Albergo San Barnaba, both on the left as you walk away from the Campo. La Bitta do not do fish, which was good for us, as we had a guest with a seafood allergy. No risk of remnant prawns in a dish. We’ve eaten there a few times, half a dozen times in all, both two years ago and this trip, and never been dissapointed. The menu changes daily, and if you walk past about 6:30 PM, you can see what is on offer on the menu in the window. Goose, duck, rabbit, steak (always) and calves liver (always). They do not open for lunch.

Albergo San Barnaba (I think that’s the name, and it is on a corner about 20 yards past La Bitta) is good. A husband and wife affair, menu in Italian only, but the owner speaks good English. No wine list – just stroll past the wine rack and select something, and the bottles are priced. We’d eat there again, but they are closed for holidays – as are many places.

Quadri’s in San Marco. OK, the prices are heavy, but we had a spritz each, total 21 euro, and occupied the table for an hour and a half, and were under no pressure to move on. People often say that Italy is poorly organised – but Qadri’s is a breeze. Take a seat. Head waiter will present a menu – or rather a book which includes a little history of Quadris. Waiter wil take your order, punch it into his mobile device, and your order will duly appear on a silver tray. The bill will be under the napkin on the tray. Pay the waiter. Use their conveniences, which are upstairs, as there are some great photos of San Marco to see as you ascend.

Snack Bar Toletta is good. I’ve read somewhere to avoid places that are called “snack bars” but the Toletta is good, the best range of tremezzini, sandwiches stuffed to bursting with goodies, that we’ve seen in Venice. You can take a tremezzini to go – ask for it through the window. Or take a table, have a glass of wine, but it wil cost you more. “Al tavola prices”, rather than “al banco” – and the differences is significant. Calle Toletta, Dorsoduro 1911, turn right after you cross the Academia bridge, and follow the students.

The Irish bar, in Calle dei Stagneri, which runs off Campo San Bartolomeo, just at the San Marco end of the Rialto bridge. If you are an Ausralian, you might avoid this, given that the English cricket team has just humiliated Australia. The English barman was at pains to point this out, while serving good tremezzini and wine, and was fun. We’ve been there a few times for panini, tremezzini and wine, but the main dishes may be better elsewhere.

There’s a bar at Ponte San Trovaso, Dorsoduro 992, which has something of a reputation. Cantinone-gia Schiavi, which I found courtesy of an article in The Guardian. They have wine by the glass, and it is very much a wine bar. They also do snacks, slices of bread with all sorts of different toppings, fish, ham, artichoke, cheese, you name it, all made freshly as required by demand, each piece costing one euro. You can just point to what you want, one of those, two of those, etc, and it will be put on a plate, which is then handed to the barman. Ask for whatever drink you want, and then pay for the lot. A lunch for one would cost about eight euro, including a glass of wine at 2 euro.

Glass shops. If you have relatively deep pockets, or a solid credit card, then the glass at l’Isola is pretty special. Campo San Moise, west of San Marco, next to Prada, http://www.lisola.com/ They only have glass by Carlo Moretti and his brother, not the usual tourist-intended stuff. The shop itself is worth a look – the interior design is by Carlo Scarpa, one of Venices finest architects. Scarpa also did work in the Academia, and his style is apparent - if you have a chance, look in the shop before you visit the Academia, as the architecture is interesting, a bit Frank Lloyd Wright-ish.

If you want linen, you might patronise Annelie’s shop in Calle Lunga San Barnaba, on the left as you head away from the Grand Canal. She’s pleasant, prices are OK, and she speaks excellent English. A source of inside information for us, and she’s been helpful.

Guide Books.
I’ve been using “Secret Venice” by Thomas Jonglez and Paola Zoffoli. It has a wealth of information about the lesser known parts and details of Venice. Things like the fact that there’s a basis in numerology for the design of the Salute, the location of the bowling club in Santa Croce (which has a bar that we’ve yet to patronise but the bowling lanes are fun, as is the trophy display) or a detailed explanation of the significance of the capitols of the columns on the Doge’s Palace. Not a guide book as such, as there is no hotel information of vaporetto map, but it has so engaged me with Venice.

“Venice” by James / Jan Morris. I think if you want to know Venice, then this book is a good place to start. Morris has done a couple of revisions, but any edition is OK – and it’s available for a song second hand.

“The Rough Guide” is good, and the language displays a rather droll sense of humour.

There are others, of course, but I think that the ones above are my favourites.

Money. Small change in Venice seems to be in chronic short supply. I’ve taken to just holding out a handful of change at the supermarket and allowing the cashier to select what they’d most like. It seems to simplify life for both parties. Paying for a traghetto ride (0.50 euro) with a twenty euro note is a bit unkind.

Try and have a plan in place before you come, something of a story that you want to explore. There is such a wealth of things to see, places to visit, and you can’t see them all. But if you can have some sort of an idea,a thread, whether it is art, history, Venice’s industrial legacy, how boats operate, whatever, then your time will be happier.

I’ve yet to viist the Valese iron foundry or see the ice house in the gardens of the Palazzo Rizzo-Patarol – now the Hotel des Doges - in Cannaregio, so there are things still to draw me back to this lovely town.

Thank you to all have commented and responded to this rambling travelogue/monologue. I hope you have enjoyed reading as much as I've enjoyed writing.

(an apolagy – my spel checker is shot to peeces)

How can I be going to Venice for just 1 1/2 days after reading this treasure-trove ?!?!??! It's obvious that I'll have to make a trip just to explore Venice in detail. Thank you so much for all of this. I cannot wait to get there!

So, the Spell checker couldn't handle the presuure, eh?

Thanks for the buggy ride .. no pun intended.

I like your new profile photo.. fa un bello figuro!!

Uffa, my Spell checker is set on 'doze'. Make that "pressure".

So, now I see why we have a preview function.

We visied the Foundazione Querini Stampalia, near Campo Santa Maria Formosa, Castello 5252. It was a total knock out. The building is the old family home of the Querini clan, and when they moved out, a lot of their furniture got left behind. They also left behind some works of art, notably a Bellini, a Tiepolo, works by Longhi and a heap of others. Maybe they could not find people and boats to transport their stuff, and their misfortune is our good luck.

The building is on three levels – or three levels that are accessable by the public.
The ground floor sees a bit of aqua alta, and Scarpa had this in mind when he was invited to re-work the ground floor in 1960. The architecture is fifty years old, and is as crisp and sharp as if it had been designed yesterday. The ground floor accomodates the inevitable flooding by inviting the water to enter, and suggesting that when the tide drops, then it ought to kindly depart. Raised walkways allow circulation even when the ground floor is under water, and one of the walkways is shaped like a trough. A contradiction – troughs are meant to contain water, but this trough keeps your feet dry. The tide was low-ish when we visited, and I’d love to see it when the tide is high, to get a getter idea of what Scarpa was on about.

When you stand in the main reception room or hall, there’s a brass line on the wall at eye height, which establishes an horizon. But the way the paving on the floor has been laid, bands of stone breaking up the washed concrete paving, creates a strange optical illusion, reinforced by the horzon line. You could swear that the floor was stepped, looking like the typical Venetian bridge. But it is dead level. I had to walk the length of the room a couple of times to realise that my eyes were playing tricks. The door to the right is worth opening and closing – a door leaf made of stone, on massive hinges, but to a slightly less than human size, a small door.

The room opens onto a lovely garden, lovely even in winter, where there are a pair of miniature fountains, connected by a long lily pond. Water trickling, with trench details that reflect the water ingress and egress that you’ve passed as you walk in. The stone detailing is worth a look, as in many places the stone has been scribed to create an interlocking, dovetailed or mortice and tenon appearance. Stone, but talking about carpentry.

Decent bookshop and bar on the groundfloor as well.

Ascend to the first floor, and go back in time by about three hundred years, when you enter the library. The library is modern, a reference library, but contained in rooms that still retain their décor from about 1700. Frescoed ceilings, a place of serious academic reference, and well populated by students. Stroll around – the parquetry squeeks horribly – and that’s the loudest noise you’ll hear. Chandeliers the size of a tractor wheel.

You’ve maybe ridden the No 1 vaporetto down the Grand Canal and looked up into the palazzi, those big rooms, chandeliers, decorated ceinings, and wondered what they look like from the inside. Go up to the second floor of this building, and you will find out. The second floor contains the rooms and furniture of the family, still in the rooms that were meant to contain it. A bedroom, ladies boudoir, dining room, drawing rooms (walls lined with red silk fabric, the original fabric). A display of a porcelain dinner setting – well, some of the setting, as it contained some 450 pieces, none of which have gone missing. The family paintings, commissioned to enhance the collective family ego, fresoed ceilings, several globes, one of which shows a rough approximation of Australia. Mirrors that were silvered in 1650, “through a glass, darkly”.

All this for ten euro. Can’t complain about that.

OK, from the sublime to maybe the ridiculous, or if not, to a small detail. In the Piazza, a marker for the last public well in St Marco. Find the doors to the Police station on the south side, the Procurie Nova. With your back to the police station doors, walk about twenty or thirty metres into the Piazza, and you’ll see circles engraved in the paving, along with the inscription on a white stone “Pozzo Interrato Nel Secolo something” – and this means “Well buried in century something” – the marker for the last public well in the Piazza. Once you know it’s there, it’s not hard to find – the circles are three metres in diameter. An interesting thing would be to look at paintings of processions in the Piazza, and see if the well head is visible.


There’s always more to see …

Apparently, there used to be a canal running through what is now the Piazza. There's also an inscription somewhere in the Piazza to mark the location of a church that was sacificed to make way for the Piazza. Layers of history ...

The Querini Stampalia was closed because of public funding cuts when we tried to go last Summer - your report reinforces my determination to get there.

Curious as to why you have avoided the Ristorante Quatro Ferri on your calle? Very good fish antipasti.

So glad you enjoyed the Querini Stampalia, Peter ! As always you spotted details I didn't, so will take your notes when we go back. I agree it would be fascinating to see the ground floor at acqua alta.

Just discovered online that our local Blackell's has 'Secret Venice' so I've reserved a copy and will look forward to using that and your report to plan our next trip (2 weeks in June).

Thank you so much for sharing all this with us ! Hope you have/had a good trip home and I really think you should get a literary agent. Alla volta prossima !

You find something new every day here. I’d always thought that the monument to Doge Pesaro in the Frari (four black dudes, with bulging white eyeballs carrying the white man’s burden) was Venice’s most ugly monument. But I’ve discovered, I think, a monument to beat it. A monument to Daniel Manin, discovered as we took a last stroll around.

Stand on the steps of the Fenice (the lamps outside are gas lamps, by the way) and turn left into Calle De La Verona, and walk about 20 yards, and look down calle to your left. There’s a monument made of left over cannon balls (a couple are numbered, and I didn’t know that they had numbers cast into them) plus a couple of cannons, mounted vertically, with cannon balls atop.

Truly ugly. A real Krupp Ironworks sort of monument.

I agree with you about that monstrosity in the Frari, Peter.

I'll have to take your word for it about the even uglier one, at least for now.

How about the bridges with foot prints?

Your advice, the marvelous detail, info: Just when i think it can't et any better...it does! Thank you, mille mille grazie!
Most recent of two previous visits to Venice was in 1970. Had ten days there. This time, taking daughter for first ever time, and have only two days, which was an afterthought in the plan, I already know I'll be yearning for more time in the future.
We'll make a point of using the toilets at Quadris! "Use their conveniences, which are upstairs, as there are some great photos of San Marco to see as you ascend."
Peter, i dont know you, but i love you!!

Peter,

On my last visit to Venice, I spent a week in an apartment in Dorsoduro.

I discovered Fabio's wonderful photographs and purchased three of his limited prints.

That's not a monument, Peter, that's the Hotel San Fantin! [Though there is a plaque recording 'the heroic resistance', I don't think there is a mention of Manin.] You should walk round to the other side where there's a window with a railing in front made of rifle barrels with bayonets attached. Waste not, want not, I say!
The hotel next door [La Fenice et des Artistes] featured in Don't Look Now, and the sotoportego between them and the bridge beyond featured in Death in Venice.

Oops! Apology! There is a bas-relief profile of Manin below the plaque.

You must be on your way home by now. I have truly enjoyed your report.

Well, we’re back in Melbourne now, and I’m back at work. A pretty straightforward journey (Vaporetto, Alilaguna, Emirates to Dubai, thence KL, thence Melbourne, then cab home, arriving about 4:30 AM).
Met at home by YvonneT, who was the BEST house sitter.

And a nice surprise in Venice. If you have an IMOB card, then the Alilaguna ferry from San Marco to the airport is about 6 euro, not 12 or 13. Those cards are great!

Cheers

Peter

welcome home Peter.

when do you start planning your next trip?

It was the greatest pleasure to take care of your house and your two rascal cats, Peter and Lou. I JUST got home (11pm your time). Thereby hangs a tale or two.

Start planning and saving. Your public demands it.

Glad your journey home went smoothly, Peter. I didn't know about the cheap Alilaguna fares - we paid full price ! But we will know next time, so thanks yet again.

Glad your trip home was straightforward.

I followed this trip report as it was written, but will enjoy it again now as I search it for ideas--just booked 8 nights in Venice for March.

Ann, we plan on arriving in Verona on Saturday 9th Feb 2013, then go to Venice on Tuesday Tuesday 12 Feb for the last day of Carnival. About nine weeks in Venice, and back to Melbourne on 12th Paril 2013.

Long range planning...

Peter_S_Aus: Did you ever use the Venice Link service?

Narnya, yes, we did use it. We booked a shared water taxi through their web site, and it worked really well.

Arrive at Marco Polo, collect bags etc.

Go to the Shared Water Taxi booth in the arrivals hall.

Exchange printed copy of voucher for a docket, with booth attendant who spoke good English. She was expecting us.

Wait for 10 minutes or so for another two couples to arrive.

Stroll as a group down to the water taxi terminal, ask for Mike, and the docket had his water taxi number on it. It is a seven minute walk to the taxi terminal, and we used an airport baggage trolley to haul our stuff, even though we had wheeled bags. To get an airport trolley, you need a one euro coin too unlock the trolley, like in a supermarket. Leave trolley at water taxi dock, and retrieve your euro.

Embark. The whole process was really simple, fun too.

The web site that we booked through:
http://www.venicelink.com/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage_biglietti&product_id=54&category_id=10&manufacturer_id=0&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1&vmcchk=1&Itemid=1&lang=english

We did not use the shared water taxi on our departure, and I’ve read of people having problems with the service when doing Venice to Marco Polo.

sounds like a nice plan - your 2013 trip i mean. will you stay in the same apartment, or try somewhere new?

it may seem like a silly question, but can I ask what pulls you back to Venice, rather than trying a new long-stay city, like, say, Rome?

Ann, I’m glad to hear the news that your son is OK. I was able to keep track of my daughter when she travelled in Europe by looking at the location of ATM and Visa transactions, as I could access her bank accounts. “Ah, she was in Barcelona three days ago, and now it seems that she’s in Madrid.” While mobile phones get lost and email is not accessed; the old journalist adage of “follow the money” works well.

Particularly with young people, and their insatiable need for cash.

Venice. Perhaps we’re just too lazy to find a place that we like so much. I think that Venice is more different than any place that we’ve ever visited, and there’s still more to see. We live very close to the centre of Melbourne – about a fifteen minute walk to downtown - so being in a place where there is no traffic and you walk everywhere is great for us.

We’ve visited Rome several times, and done the conventional sight seeing, Forum, Coliseum, Vatican, Palatine hill, and probably not really scratched the surface of Rome. Rome is a good place for us to spend three or four nights at a stretch, and then the pressure and haste starts to get to us.

We’re still discovering things to see in Venice, walking through any door that seems to be remotely open, and occasionally being chucked out when the open door is, well, not really open. And next trip, I want to hire a small boat, explore the marshes and wetlands that we’ve seen out the back of Torcello, viewed only from the departing aircraft, and thread my way up the canal that runs under the sacristy of San Stefano. I want to have a look inside the Olivetti showroom in San Marco as I’m a bit hooked on Scarpa’s architecture, which is providing a different thread or trail to drag me around Venice. We’ll probably take more trips out of Venice too. We’ll certainly visit Verona, and Possagno to see the Canova museum would be on the agenda (Scarpa did the museum, Canova the plaster casts in it, so it’s doubly attractive). Florence for two or three days, as we were both sick last time we visited, so did not do Florence justice.

We will stay in the same apartment. The apartment is comfortable, and there’s also comfort in staying in the same place, knowing that it’s Alilaguna, No 1 vaporetto, alight at Ca’ Rezzonico and 100 yards with no bridges and we’re there. The apartment is light, a good place for Lou’s easel, and I’ve repaired the light fitting that failed while we were there a month ago. It’s all too easy, and not all that expensive. The kitchen works well, and the hot water service has recently been replaced. In April, we’d expect to be able to eat on the terrace, and that would be a new experience.

Peter, has Annamaria not said anything to you about selling the house ? When I tried to book the flat again for this June she said June was difficult as she wanted to arrange work to be done then and had friends/family wanting to stay then too. When I went back and said maybe another time, she said her siblings want to sell the house so it may not be for rent after this year. But maybe she just didn't want us back !?

So I rented this other flat, close by on the Rio San Trovaso - ground floor though so no good for the winter - http://www.trulyveniceapartments.com/jsptruly/apartment.jsp?id=76. It's a bit more expensive but cheaper than many.

We always just get the Alilaguna to & from Zattere - 1 bridge on the way back from Calle Lunga but no changing required.

Peter - I understand your feelings about Venice. I've not spent anything like as long there as you have, but I feel its pull. but for me Rome is THE place. inexplicably I put off going there until I was about 50. I find it endlessly fascinating and exciting - a little like how I felt about London when i started working there over 30 years ago.

Sadly for me, DH does not feel the same. he DOES love Venice, so I am hoping sometime soon to persuade him that we might split our time between the two, if we can wangle some longer holiday time. so i will keep reading your threads with huge interest and not a little envy.

ps - thanks for the kind words re DS. He loved Venice too!

Hi Peter. We are off to Venice again in 9 days and can't wait ! I have a question for you on the Carta Venezia, if you don't mind. Last time we only bought 'carnets' of the cheaper tickets, valid on water only. What did you do when you got buses on the Lido etc ? Did you buy a carnet of land+water tickets & take the hit on using them just for vaporetto journeys too ? Or did you just buy single bus tickets from nearby shops etc ? Thanks very much and regards, Caroline.

Hi Caroline,
the "Residents Card" which we bought covers both vaporettos and the land buses. You just swipe the card as you get onto the bus.

Too easy.

Enjoy Venice!!

When you load trips onto the card, they should ask if you want it for just vaporetto travel and/or bus. I found out the hard way .. I only asked for vaporetto, and had to buy tickets for the few bus trips I did.

The same thing happened to a friend who was with me.

Hi both and thanks. Peter, my reading of the ACTV site is that you need different, more expensive tickets to use the bus, as Yvonne seems to confirm.

TARIFFA CARTAVENEZIA...
1,20 € - CORSA SEMPLICE NAVIGAZIONE...
1,80 € - BIGLIETTO BUS+NAVE...
10,50 € - CARNET 10 CORSE NAVIGAZIONE...
16,00 € - CARNET 10 CORSE BUS+NAVE

(http://www.actv.it/muoversiavenezia/tariffeinvigore)

We only bought the cheaper carnets last time as we didn't plan to get any buses, but I quite fancy going down to Pellestrina this time. I think it seems as though buying single bus tickets on top of the cheaper carnet will be the way to go.