Highs and Lows of a Family Trip to Italy
Apr 24th, 2011, 07:34 AM
#164
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We’ve got a 9:30 am train to Venice. We’re not quite ready to say goodbye to Florence though. We try to squeeze a few more hours in by taking a later train, but no luck -- all the trains to Venice are sold out. The good folks at Hotel Casci call a cab that will take all our suitcases and 4 out of the 5 of us. That’s ok, because I have a plan. I’m going to walk to the train station via San Lorenzo and buy a handbag in the leather market along the way. I’ve got 20 minutes to execute this plan, which I do flawlessly. I may have botched Siena, but I’ve got Florence down pat.
There’s a lot of business to take care of on the train. I’ve booked an apartment through Venice35.com and the agreement stipulates that we need to call Roberta, the owner, two hours in advance to confirm our arrival time. I also need to call to confirm our opera reservations at Musica a Palazzo. I’ve made the reservations on line, but for some reason they want a verbal confirmation by noon of the day of performance – and that’s tonight. It takes about an hour to make these two calls. Our Verizon phone is temperamental and DH has to keep taking the battery out and rebooting. DH has been able to call the States with no problem, but it’s been a battle trying to call numbers in Europe. After yet another stint with Customer Service, we manage to make the calls.
DH’s dad (G) and his dad’s significant other (D) are flying into Venice from the U.K. and we’re supposed to meet them in front of the Frari church at 2:00. The apartment is in the San Paolo neighborhood, on Calle del Mezzo not far from the San Lucia train station. I know exactly where the apartment is because I am prepared. Knowing that getting around Venice is tricky, I’ve studied the map and directions extensively.
What’s so cool about arriving in Venice by train is that all the while you are on the train, and then going through the station, you are in the normal world. And then you walk out through the doors, and there you are in a fairytale. The girls are wowed. DD2 is all smiles – this is photography paradise.
We have to cross the tall picturesque bridge in front of the station (but a killer when you’re lugging heavy suitcases – and our suitcases have gotten a lot heavier since we arrived in Italy!). Then take the third left onto Calle del Bergamaschi. We get to the third left and the “calle” looks barely wide enough for two people to walk down. But I figure if a “street” in Florence can barely accommodate a cinquecento, then a “street” in Venice could certainly be a narrow crevice between buildings. I follow the directions faithfully, but after just a few turns, things get muddled. There are canals where there shouldn’t be, and no streets where there should be. Merely 10 minutes and barely 500 feet into Venice, we’re so turned around my head is spinning. We emerge from a low wide archway onto a small canal with a cute bridge. I pull out the phone and call Roberta. She asks where we are – I try to explain, but really, we could be anywhere! She simply says “cross the bridge, cross another bridge, there is a bar on the corner, go left.” I get the worst sinking feeling in my stomach. Roberta speaks very little English; my Italian is even worse. We’re going to be one of those horror stories, dragging our suitcases up and down, over and around, until nightfall. The whole family is looking at me like, please tell us this is going to end soon. So I say as confidently as I can muster, “we have to cross the bridge, cross another bridge, and when we see a bar on the corner, we take a left and we’re there.” Yeah, like that’s gonna be right.
So we cross the bridge, cross the next bridge, come to a tiny square – there’s a bar on the corner – turn left – and we’re there! Or more precisely, we’re on Calle del Mezzo (the entire street is about 50 paces long). It takes some more noodling to figure out which door to knock on. The street numbers don’t make any sense. Roberta isn’t at the apartment, she has a friend cleaning it (she just told me on the phone that the apartment wouldn’t be ready for another couple of hours – a fact I’ve ignored – we’re unloading these suitcases come hell or aqua alta!).
Let me just say a few words about this apartment. It is billed as sleeping up to 9. I’ve approached that billing with some skepticism as it only has two bedrooms. There will be 7 of us though, so I’m curious to see what the layout is like. It has a washing machine (which I have been eagerly anticipating) and a small patio. I’m not expecting anything fancy – but it’s New Year’s Eve weekend – and I hand over an obscene amount of cash to Roberta’s friend. I have to laugh at the layout. They’ve set up 7 of us in two bedrooms by placing two cots in one room and one cot in the other. I can just see our teen girls sleeping at the foot of our bed, or worse, at the foot of their grandpa’s bed! I guess those cots are technically “twin” beds, but they look more like child cots to me.
We leave the friend to finish up and go to the corner bar to have lunch. There are actually two corner bars. The one Roberta mentioned on the phone becomes our early morning coffee bar. The one across the tiny square that we eat at now becomes our “hang out” bar. It’s more a lunch and drinks place. They serve pasta and pizza-sized bruschetta (which is quite tasty). The owner is very friendly and easy to chat with. It’s clear he’s desperate to attract more tourists (he advertises hot dogs and French fries on a billboard outside) and actually rounds our bill down a few euros.
It’s time to go and collect G&D (they are so quintessentially English, I should really call them G&T!). DH and I leave the girls in the apartment to rest (we’re in Venice, for goodness sakes, who needs to rest!). The Frari church is an easy 10 minute walk from the apartment. We come on it from the back, so have to walk around to the campo in front of the church. G&D are nowhere to be seen. Ah… then I spot them in the window of a bar facing the church. They have staked out prime real estate for people watching. They’re on their second cocktail and having a grand time critiquing the various fur coats promenading through the campo, over the bridge and past the bar. D herself is wearing a full-length animal. We have a round of drinks. DH is keen to try the mulled wine that he saw a local order during lunch. I try a spritz. I’ve been looking forward to a Venetian spritz since reading Peter’s brilliant posts here on the forum. I try a sweet one and it’s very nice indeed. We now have two “hang out” bars.
There’s a lot of business to take care of on the train. I’ve booked an apartment through Venice35.com and the agreement stipulates that we need to call Roberta, the owner, two hours in advance to confirm our arrival time. I also need to call to confirm our opera reservations at Musica a Palazzo. I’ve made the reservations on line, but for some reason they want a verbal confirmation by noon of the day of performance – and that’s tonight. It takes about an hour to make these two calls. Our Verizon phone is temperamental and DH has to keep taking the battery out and rebooting. DH has been able to call the States with no problem, but it’s been a battle trying to call numbers in Europe. After yet another stint with Customer Service, we manage to make the calls.
DH’s dad (G) and his dad’s significant other (D) are flying into Venice from the U.K. and we’re supposed to meet them in front of the Frari church at 2:00. The apartment is in the San Paolo neighborhood, on Calle del Mezzo not far from the San Lucia train station. I know exactly where the apartment is because I am prepared. Knowing that getting around Venice is tricky, I’ve studied the map and directions extensively.
What’s so cool about arriving in Venice by train is that all the while you are on the train, and then going through the station, you are in the normal world. And then you walk out through the doors, and there you are in a fairytale. The girls are wowed. DD2 is all smiles – this is photography paradise.
We have to cross the tall picturesque bridge in front of the station (but a killer when you’re lugging heavy suitcases – and our suitcases have gotten a lot heavier since we arrived in Italy!). Then take the third left onto Calle del Bergamaschi. We get to the third left and the “calle” looks barely wide enough for two people to walk down. But I figure if a “street” in Florence can barely accommodate a cinquecento, then a “street” in Venice could certainly be a narrow crevice between buildings. I follow the directions faithfully, but after just a few turns, things get muddled. There are canals where there shouldn’t be, and no streets where there should be. Merely 10 minutes and barely 500 feet into Venice, we’re so turned around my head is spinning. We emerge from a low wide archway onto a small canal with a cute bridge. I pull out the phone and call Roberta. She asks where we are – I try to explain, but really, we could be anywhere! She simply says “cross the bridge, cross another bridge, there is a bar on the corner, go left.” I get the worst sinking feeling in my stomach. Roberta speaks very little English; my Italian is even worse. We’re going to be one of those horror stories, dragging our suitcases up and down, over and around, until nightfall. The whole family is looking at me like, please tell us this is going to end soon. So I say as confidently as I can muster, “we have to cross the bridge, cross another bridge, and when we see a bar on the corner, we take a left and we’re there.” Yeah, like that’s gonna be right.
So we cross the bridge, cross the next bridge, come to a tiny square – there’s a bar on the corner – turn left – and we’re there! Or more precisely, we’re on Calle del Mezzo (the entire street is about 50 paces long). It takes some more noodling to figure out which door to knock on. The street numbers don’t make any sense. Roberta isn’t at the apartment, she has a friend cleaning it (she just told me on the phone that the apartment wouldn’t be ready for another couple of hours – a fact I’ve ignored – we’re unloading these suitcases come hell or aqua alta!).
Let me just say a few words about this apartment. It is billed as sleeping up to 9. I’ve approached that billing with some skepticism as it only has two bedrooms. There will be 7 of us though, so I’m curious to see what the layout is like. It has a washing machine (which I have been eagerly anticipating) and a small patio. I’m not expecting anything fancy – but it’s New Year’s Eve weekend – and I hand over an obscene amount of cash to Roberta’s friend. I have to laugh at the layout. They’ve set up 7 of us in two bedrooms by placing two cots in one room and one cot in the other. I can just see our teen girls sleeping at the foot of our bed, or worse, at the foot of their grandpa’s bed! I guess those cots are technically “twin” beds, but they look more like child cots to me.
We leave the friend to finish up and go to the corner bar to have lunch. There are actually two corner bars. The one Roberta mentioned on the phone becomes our early morning coffee bar. The one across the tiny square that we eat at now becomes our “hang out” bar. It’s more a lunch and drinks place. They serve pasta and pizza-sized bruschetta (which is quite tasty). The owner is very friendly and easy to chat with. It’s clear he’s desperate to attract more tourists (he advertises hot dogs and French fries on a billboard outside) and actually rounds our bill down a few euros.
It’s time to go and collect G&D (they are so quintessentially English, I should really call them G&T!). DH and I leave the girls in the apartment to rest (we’re in Venice, for goodness sakes, who needs to rest!). The Frari church is an easy 10 minute walk from the apartment. We come on it from the back, so have to walk around to the campo in front of the church. G&D are nowhere to be seen. Ah… then I spot them in the window of a bar facing the church. They have staked out prime real estate for people watching. They’re on their second cocktail and having a grand time critiquing the various fur coats promenading through the campo, over the bridge and past the bar. D herself is wearing a full-length animal. We have a round of drinks. DH is keen to try the mulled wine that he saw a local order during lunch. I try a spritz. I’ve been looking forward to a Venetian spritz since reading Peter’s brilliant posts here on the forum. I try a sweet one and it’s very nice indeed. We now have two “hang out” bars.
Apr 24th, 2011, 07:36 AM
#165
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We head back to the apartment to sort things out. I’m going to make a quick trip to the Co-op supermarket I’ve read about near Piazzale Roma. In a pleasant surprise, DD2 offers to come with me. What a nice treat – we haven’t spent a lot of alone time together (although as I’m writing this I realize she probably just didn’t want to get stuck eating peanuts for dinner again). We find the co-op fairly easily (we only need to ask for help once, which we lamely do in the Tourist Information office in Piazzale Roma). We buy mostly breakfast supplies: coffee, bread, milk (regular and soy), Cheerios, orange juice, and fruit.
In the meantime, DH has pulled the cots into the living room. It’s a living room/dining room combo with two futon-type chairs that become “beds” 8 and 9. He’s put the mattresses on top of these with a cot for DD3 in the middle. So we lose most of the common area, with the dining table as the only place to sit (aside from a small table for two in the kitchen). And although we can see the patio from the kitchen window, there doesn’t seem to be any conceivable way to get to it. Oh well.
We are finally ready to hit the town. We’re going to take the vaporetto around the Grand Canal to San Marco, have dinner somewhere, and then DH and his dad are going to babysit DD3 while the rest of us girls go see La Traviata. I throw a load of laundry in the washing machine and we’re off!
In the meantime, DH has pulled the cots into the living room. It’s a living room/dining room combo with two futon-type chairs that become “beds” 8 and 9. He’s put the mattresses on top of these with a cot for DD3 in the middle. So we lose most of the common area, with the dining table as the only place to sit (aside from a small table for two in the kitchen). And although we can see the patio from the kitchen window, there doesn’t seem to be any conceivable way to get to it. Oh well.
We are finally ready to hit the town. We’re going to take the vaporetto around the Grand Canal to San Marco, have dinner somewhere, and then DH and his dad are going to babysit DD3 while the rest of us girls go see La Traviata. I throw a load of laundry in the washing machine and we’re off!
May 9th, 2011, 06:08 PM
#167
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hereiam, sooooo sorry!!! Had a forced hiatus due to business travel and then a couple of crazed weekends! Let me get back to this quickly, because I have to tell you about a horrendous restaurant you absolutely must avoid on St. Mark's Square. You've probably heard from other Fodorites saying that it is generally advisable to avoid the restaurants in that area as they are pricey and typically mediocre. Heed that advice.
I'll be back pronto!
I'll be back pronto!
May 11th, 2011, 02:04 PM
#169
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We decide to take the vaporetto from Santa Lucia around the Grand Canal to Piazza San Marco. Dusk is descending and the vaporetto is packed, so we’re in it for the transportation this time, not the intriguing views. Arriving at San Marco, I whisper another thank you to the gods for sparing us the high tides that flooded much of Venice in the preceding weeks. The threat of acqua alta had caused me much angst. I’m a fairly intrepid traveler, one who doesn’t require too many creature comforts, but touring Venice while slogging through knee-high water simply wasn’t an appealing prospect. Here we are in San Marco and it’s dry as a bone! At this point, I might have uttered a small curse at having hauled heavy rain boots all over Italy in anticipation of flooded Venetian streets, but as we made good use of them in Rome, I call it even.
I found myself feeling rather irritated walking around San Marco as it is now a disjointed mix of the iconic piazza and something resembling Times Square – huge, sleek lit-up adverts cover swaths of scaffolding. The absurdity of all this is nowhere more apparent than at the Bridge of Sighs. It’s the one time I’ll ever say: Just buy the postcard…it’ll be more satisfying. But never mind. I’m sure the advertising euros from Absolut or Sephora bring much needed revenue to fund restoration.
We walk to the far end of the piazza and there are several enticing restaurants just on the edge of the square (technically Piazzetta dei Leoncini). We should have known better (we did know better!) and kept walking into the narrow alleyways and found something...anything….off the beaten path. But they looked so enticing, right there on the square. We pick Falciani which beckons as a casual pizzeria. I’ve been eagerly awaiting calamari, so that’s what I order. The kids get the usual spaghetti al pomodoro and bruschetta. We order a small carafe of house white, and a small carafe of house red. The food is decidedly mediocre and the wine, not that great. Still, it’s our first meal with G&D and we’re in the glorious city of Venice.
Now comes the delicate task of leaving DD3 with DH and G so we can go on to the opera. There is a fairly robust bout of clinging and whining, but we manage to sufficiently bribe DD3 so she lets me escape. DH is on the hook for one of those glow-in-the-dark twirlie things that the street peddlers so adeptly shoot up in the air (it’s funny how different overpriced trinkets are peddled in different towns – the spaciousness of San Marco lends itself well to this particular gadget -- and how none of them ever seem to work once you’ve bought it!).
The waiter did very well slipping DH the check after we had left. Had D still been there, I can’t imagine the scene. We are charged 48 euros for the wine. For barely drinkable house wine! DH protests the charge and the waiter calmly brings over a wine menu -- which has PENCILED IN prices. We’ve been fleeced…and the scam is so smooth, we’re clearly not the first victims. DH makes a bit of a stink, but ultimately hands over the credit card. D would have called in reinforcements from the British Embassy, the British Navy, the Crown! She would have stood in the middle of the restaurant in her long fur coat, her poofy fur hat, and her sensible handbag, kicking up such a good ol’ English marm fuss the manager would have hastily discovered a little mistake in the calculation.
But D is with me on our way to see La Traviata at Musica a Palazzo not far from Piazza San Marco. In what must be some type of tax avoidance scheme, you technically have to become a member of Musica a Palazzo, with the benefit of being able to watch a performance, rather than purchasing a ticket straight out. And they only take cash. So in addition to the apartment rental, I’ve had to squirrel away another 200 euro for four “memberships” to the opera. Musica a Palazzo clearly caters to tourists, with a rotating program of La Traviata, Barber of Seville, and Love Songs. It is located in Palazzo Barbarigo Minotto and promises an intimate setting in an authentic Venetian palazzo. Less intimidating, I think, than Teatro La Fenice (I couldn’t get tickets there in any case), for introducing DD1 and DD2 to the charms of opera.
The production does live up to the mostly positive reviews I had read. It is less stunning and the setting more awkward than I expected, however. I’m not a connoisseur, but the singing is lovely, quite stellar I would say. But given the size of the audience (50-100 people), it is actually something of a challenge to see. The set up involves rows of folding chairs, so even a few rows back, visibility is blocked. The opera unfolds in three scenes – each in a different room of the palazzo. So after the first scene, there is a scramble as those in the back of the first room try to jostle their way to a better seating arrangement in the second room. We couldn’t see a thing during the first scene, we had a good view during the second scene, and a partially blocked view for the third scene. Too frustrating for me. By the third scene, though, I had decided that the best thing to look at was the cello player (the production included a three-person ensemble) who looked strikingly like a young Hugh Grant. I had excellent views of him during the second and third scenes.
All in all, a lovely girls night out. It is about 11 p.m. and D and I lead the way back to the apartment. There’s no stopping to look at the map or worrying if we’re lost. We simply forge ahead – to the Rialto, through San Polo, past the Frari…home. D and I give no hint that we’re likely walking a route straight out of a Family Circus strip. The city is quiet, deserted, but peaceful and content.
I found myself feeling rather irritated walking around San Marco as it is now a disjointed mix of the iconic piazza and something resembling Times Square – huge, sleek lit-up adverts cover swaths of scaffolding. The absurdity of all this is nowhere more apparent than at the Bridge of Sighs. It’s the one time I’ll ever say: Just buy the postcard…it’ll be more satisfying. But never mind. I’m sure the advertising euros from Absolut or Sephora bring much needed revenue to fund restoration.
We walk to the far end of the piazza and there are several enticing restaurants just on the edge of the square (technically Piazzetta dei Leoncini). We should have known better (we did know better!) and kept walking into the narrow alleyways and found something...anything….off the beaten path. But they looked so enticing, right there on the square. We pick Falciani which beckons as a casual pizzeria. I’ve been eagerly awaiting calamari, so that’s what I order. The kids get the usual spaghetti al pomodoro and bruschetta. We order a small carafe of house white, and a small carafe of house red. The food is decidedly mediocre and the wine, not that great. Still, it’s our first meal with G&D and we’re in the glorious city of Venice.
Now comes the delicate task of leaving DD3 with DH and G so we can go on to the opera. There is a fairly robust bout of clinging and whining, but we manage to sufficiently bribe DD3 so she lets me escape. DH is on the hook for one of those glow-in-the-dark twirlie things that the street peddlers so adeptly shoot up in the air (it’s funny how different overpriced trinkets are peddled in different towns – the spaciousness of San Marco lends itself well to this particular gadget -- and how none of them ever seem to work once you’ve bought it!).
The waiter did very well slipping DH the check after we had left. Had D still been there, I can’t imagine the scene. We are charged 48 euros for the wine. For barely drinkable house wine! DH protests the charge and the waiter calmly brings over a wine menu -- which has PENCILED IN prices. We’ve been fleeced…and the scam is so smooth, we’re clearly not the first victims. DH makes a bit of a stink, but ultimately hands over the credit card. D would have called in reinforcements from the British Embassy, the British Navy, the Crown! She would have stood in the middle of the restaurant in her long fur coat, her poofy fur hat, and her sensible handbag, kicking up such a good ol’ English marm fuss the manager would have hastily discovered a little mistake in the calculation.
But D is with me on our way to see La Traviata at Musica a Palazzo not far from Piazza San Marco. In what must be some type of tax avoidance scheme, you technically have to become a member of Musica a Palazzo, with the benefit of being able to watch a performance, rather than purchasing a ticket straight out. And they only take cash. So in addition to the apartment rental, I’ve had to squirrel away another 200 euro for four “memberships” to the opera. Musica a Palazzo clearly caters to tourists, with a rotating program of La Traviata, Barber of Seville, and Love Songs. It is located in Palazzo Barbarigo Minotto and promises an intimate setting in an authentic Venetian palazzo. Less intimidating, I think, than Teatro La Fenice (I couldn’t get tickets there in any case), for introducing DD1 and DD2 to the charms of opera.
The production does live up to the mostly positive reviews I had read. It is less stunning and the setting more awkward than I expected, however. I’m not a connoisseur, but the singing is lovely, quite stellar I would say. But given the size of the audience (50-100 people), it is actually something of a challenge to see. The set up involves rows of folding chairs, so even a few rows back, visibility is blocked. The opera unfolds in three scenes – each in a different room of the palazzo. So after the first scene, there is a scramble as those in the back of the first room try to jostle their way to a better seating arrangement in the second room. We couldn’t see a thing during the first scene, we had a good view during the second scene, and a partially blocked view for the third scene. Too frustrating for me. By the third scene, though, I had decided that the best thing to look at was the cello player (the production included a three-person ensemble) who looked strikingly like a young Hugh Grant. I had excellent views of him during the second and third scenes.
All in all, a lovely girls night out. It is about 11 p.m. and D and I lead the way back to the apartment. There’s no stopping to look at the map or worrying if we’re lost. We simply forge ahead – to the Rialto, through San Polo, past the Frari…home. D and I give no hint that we’re likely walking a route straight out of a Family Circus strip. The city is quiet, deserted, but peaceful and content.
May 12th, 2011, 04:52 AM
#170
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"What’s so cool about arriving in Venice by train is that all the while you are on the train, and then going through the station, you are in the normal world. And then you walk out through the doors, and there you are in a fairytale. "
√So true! That first ride along the Grand Canal was jaw dropping! Hub and I shared many hilarious moments trying to find addresses where there were none posted or with numbers not in sequence. We decided it was a throw back to the old days when, if you didn't know where you were, you were a stranger and they wanted you to be lost!
√So true! That first ride along the Grand Canal was jaw dropping! Hub and I shared many hilarious moments trying to find addresses where there were none posted or with numbers not in sequence. We decided it was a throw back to the old days when, if you didn't know where you were, you were a stranger and they wanted you to be lost!
May 18th, 2011, 07:53 PM
#171
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I wake up feeling deathly ill. It feels like alcohol poisoning although I barely had one full glass of that wretched wine the night before. Maybe it was bad calamari. All I know is I can’t get out of bed, and we’re in Venice. And it’s sunny. I want to cry but I just crawl further under the covers. G is also ill with a worsening cold. D and DH set out with the girls. They are going to repeat the vaporetto ride down the Grand Canal to San Marco and do a proper look around. I hope to drag myself out of bed and meet them around lunchtime at the Rialto Bridge. As it turns out, they board the vaporetto going the wrong direction and wind up going out to where the cruise ships dock and down past the Guidecca, San Giorgio, and then to San Marco. It’s an interesting detour.
I do manage to haul myself out of bed shortly before noon – I simply can’t waste this precious time. G is down for the count however. I walk over to Santa Lucia and catch the vaporetto and take a leisurely ride down the Grand Canal to the Rialto. The fresh, crisp air perks me up a bit.
The Rialto is packed. The crowd is 3 or 4 people deep to catch a glimpse of the canal from the top of the bridge. We are all at the bridge now, but it takes 20 minutes and 3 phone calls to locate each other. Still, it’s nice that a large chunk of the crowd consists of Italians here to celebrate New Year’s Eve.
The kids are hungry so we walk back to “our neighborhood” and find a nice trattoria in San Polo. While DD2 pours over an Italian phrasebook that D has brought, DH tells me about his mission. He went back to Falciani’s and asked for a menu. The one he’s given has properly printed prices for wine, and the price for a carafe is half what he paid last night. He photographs the menu with DD1’s help. I’m not quite sure what he plans to do with this evidence, but it’s clear that justice will be served...if only through TripAdvisor!
We head back to the apartment to check on G. DH has located a supermarket right near the Frari, and G&D make a quick trip there to pick up supplies for dinner. G is a great cook and he’s going to make us dinner before we head out for the New Year’s Eve celebration. DH has more apartment problems to sort out. While we were at the opera the night before, DH was surprised by a persistent knocking on the bathroom window. He opens the window to find a debonair older man, apparently French, standing in the little courtyard that we have been unable to access. DH has no idea who this man is or how he got in the courtyard, but the man asks him if he would be so kind as to turn on the heat. The well-dressed French man has a difficult time explaining to DH who he is or why he has this request. All DH understands is that he wants the heat turned on “to the very best!” Luckily, the French man has a cell phone on him and on the other end is Roberta. The French man is in Roberta’s second apartment and the heating is apparently centrally controlled.
Now the one criticism about the apartment I have (apart from the flimsy beds) is that there is no helpful manual explaining how to operate things, no helpful tips of any kind, but the one thing that is made clear is that we are not supposed to touch the heating/cooling controls. But Roberta gives DH the go-ahead, overlooking the fact that DH has absolutely no idea how to work the controls. And the controls are the antithesis of intuitive. So, here we are, the next afternoon, pouring over an on-line manual of the thermostat control in Italian because the French man still has no heat. And now, we have no heat. Whatever DH did last night has resulted in a complete shutting down of the heating system. This is now a real problem. While our apartment still feels comfortable, with cold radiators, I have no way of drying the laundry I’ve washed.
And we have another challenge: G has the supplies for dinner but we can’t figure out how to turn the stove on. I finally give Roberta a call. G is good, but he’s “old school” and doesn’t view the microwave as a “cooking” appliance. The conversation with Roberta is essentially useless since I can’t effectively communicate the problem or solicit a solution. DH finally figures out that the gas is turned off and is at least happy to have a lead. G&D decide to have a lie down, the girls camp out in bed in front of another Harry Potter movie – I leave DH to his tinkering and walk to the Frari church.
Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari is a lovely church chock full of interesting things to look at, including a Titian masterpiece over the altar, intricate woodcarvings, and impressive choir stalls. It also has Titian himself in a tomb, and the most bizarre looking tomb for guy named Canova. There is even a “bling” room. DD3 needs to see this.
By the time I get back, we have a functioning stove and G is starting his prep work in the kitchen aided by a G&T (medicinal of course). Roberta has also sent around someone to take a look at the heat, presumably, but the guy seems to think the problem is no hot water (we have this problem too, but I don’t realize it until I attempt a bath). DH finally gets him to take a look at the heating controls and there is a fair amount of mucking around. When he leaves, we’re not sure if the problem’s been fixed, or even identified.
DH and I head to the corner drinks bar for a break. The bar is filling with a mostly youthful, local crowd getting primed for the evening ahead. I’m still a bit peaked, but I fortify myself with a spritz and DH and I enjoy some alone time in a packed bar.
I do manage to haul myself out of bed shortly before noon – I simply can’t waste this precious time. G is down for the count however. I walk over to Santa Lucia and catch the vaporetto and take a leisurely ride down the Grand Canal to the Rialto. The fresh, crisp air perks me up a bit.
The Rialto is packed. The crowd is 3 or 4 people deep to catch a glimpse of the canal from the top of the bridge. We are all at the bridge now, but it takes 20 minutes and 3 phone calls to locate each other. Still, it’s nice that a large chunk of the crowd consists of Italians here to celebrate New Year’s Eve.
The kids are hungry so we walk back to “our neighborhood” and find a nice trattoria in San Polo. While DD2 pours over an Italian phrasebook that D has brought, DH tells me about his mission. He went back to Falciani’s and asked for a menu. The one he’s given has properly printed prices for wine, and the price for a carafe is half what he paid last night. He photographs the menu with DD1’s help. I’m not quite sure what he plans to do with this evidence, but it’s clear that justice will be served...if only through TripAdvisor!
We head back to the apartment to check on G. DH has located a supermarket right near the Frari, and G&D make a quick trip there to pick up supplies for dinner. G is a great cook and he’s going to make us dinner before we head out for the New Year’s Eve celebration. DH has more apartment problems to sort out. While we were at the opera the night before, DH was surprised by a persistent knocking on the bathroom window. He opens the window to find a debonair older man, apparently French, standing in the little courtyard that we have been unable to access. DH has no idea who this man is or how he got in the courtyard, but the man asks him if he would be so kind as to turn on the heat. The well-dressed French man has a difficult time explaining to DH who he is or why he has this request. All DH understands is that he wants the heat turned on “to the very best!” Luckily, the French man has a cell phone on him and on the other end is Roberta. The French man is in Roberta’s second apartment and the heating is apparently centrally controlled.
Now the one criticism about the apartment I have (apart from the flimsy beds) is that there is no helpful manual explaining how to operate things, no helpful tips of any kind, but the one thing that is made clear is that we are not supposed to touch the heating/cooling controls. But Roberta gives DH the go-ahead, overlooking the fact that DH has absolutely no idea how to work the controls. And the controls are the antithesis of intuitive. So, here we are, the next afternoon, pouring over an on-line manual of the thermostat control in Italian because the French man still has no heat. And now, we have no heat. Whatever DH did last night has resulted in a complete shutting down of the heating system. This is now a real problem. While our apartment still feels comfortable, with cold radiators, I have no way of drying the laundry I’ve washed.
And we have another challenge: G has the supplies for dinner but we can’t figure out how to turn the stove on. I finally give Roberta a call. G is good, but he’s “old school” and doesn’t view the microwave as a “cooking” appliance. The conversation with Roberta is essentially useless since I can’t effectively communicate the problem or solicit a solution. DH finally figures out that the gas is turned off and is at least happy to have a lead. G&D decide to have a lie down, the girls camp out in bed in front of another Harry Potter movie – I leave DH to his tinkering and walk to the Frari church.
Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari is a lovely church chock full of interesting things to look at, including a Titian masterpiece over the altar, intricate woodcarvings, and impressive choir stalls. It also has Titian himself in a tomb, and the most bizarre looking tomb for guy named Canova. There is even a “bling” room. DD3 needs to see this.
By the time I get back, we have a functioning stove and G is starting his prep work in the kitchen aided by a G&T (medicinal of course). Roberta has also sent around someone to take a look at the heat, presumably, but the guy seems to think the problem is no hot water (we have this problem too, but I don’t realize it until I attempt a bath). DH finally gets him to take a look at the heating controls and there is a fair amount of mucking around. When he leaves, we’re not sure if the problem’s been fixed, or even identified.
DH and I head to the corner drinks bar for a break. The bar is filling with a mostly youthful, local crowd getting primed for the evening ahead. I’m still a bit peaked, but I fortify myself with a spritz and DH and I enjoy some alone time in a packed bar.
May 19th, 2011, 02:40 AM
#172
oh, what a good tip - make sure that you can get the cooker to work before going out to buy supplies for a 3 course meal! Italian apartments are a real exercise in ingenuity, aren't they?
I love the idea of your DH going out to take a photo of the menu with the right prices on it. We were scammed - not the same one, but similar - in Venice. It is the only time that an italian restaurant has tried it on with us - and similarly we paid up, but in our case it was only an over-priced salad.
can't wait to for more - hope you start to feel better!
I love the idea of your DH going out to take a photo of the menu with the right prices on it. We were scammed - not the same one, but similar - in Venice. It is the only time that an italian restaurant has tried it on with us - and similarly we paid up, but in our case it was only an over-priced salad.
can't wait to for more - hope you start to feel better!
May 19th, 2011, 03:15 PM
#174
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This is classic, and you are so cool about all the problems, that I am very impressed. I usually freak out at the first problem, and don't see the humor til months later at home... or maybe years later. good for you, it makes great reading!
May 20th, 2011, 02:49 PM
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We're heading to Venice in July. I think I'll take a few close up photo's of the menu when we sit down, that way there is no room for debate. In the past I've occasionally photographed the menu's so we could remember what they offered and how much things were for future travel. It never occured to me to do this for a price dispute.
Wayfinder - this is a wonderful trip report!
I can't wait to hear more on Venice. We're taking our 13 & 16 yr old DSs around Europe for a month this summer & I'm sure we will have our share of highs & lows as well.
Wayfinder - this is a wonderful trip report!
I can't wait to hear more on Venice. We're taking our 13 & 16 yr old DSs around Europe for a month this summer & I'm sure we will have our share of highs & lows as well.
May 21st, 2011, 01:46 AM
#177
I think I'll take a few close up photo's of the menu when we sit down, that way there is no room for debate>>
mmm sandy, not sure how that will play in the restaurants you want to eat in.
really, we have only encountered the problem of inflated prices once or twice in years of travelling on what we Brits are still quaintly calling "the continent".
mmm sandy, not sure how that will play in the restaurants you want to eat in.
really, we have only encountered the problem of inflated prices once or twice in years of travelling on what we Brits are still quaintly calling "the continent".
May 21st, 2011, 09:03 PM
#180
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The kids adore grandpa’s cooking, so even with G under the weather, dinner is a hit. It’s G’s classic pasta dish – spaghetti with a divine meat sauce. He does an “al pomodoro” version a well. So even though we’ve had pasta at least once a day for the past 12 days, this meal ranks as one of our top 5 in Italy (it actually comes in at number 3 behind the two meals at Trebbio’s in Florence). After dinner, we play a few rounds of gin rummy while finishing off the wine. Before we know it it’s 10 pm and we need to head to Piazza San Marco for the New Year’s Eve celebration.
From the beginning, I’ve thought that the fireworks display on New Year’s Eve in Venice is going to be everyone’s all time favorite moment of the trip. It’s the reason I agreed to pay an extortionist price to stay in Venice over the holiday. G&D are not up for it, but DD3 is rearing to go. She’s not gone back to a normal sleep schedule since arriving in Rome, so I’m not at all concerned that she will run out of steam before midnight.
Venice is swarming with activity. For some reason, when we head out of the apartment, everyone turns left toward the vaporetto stop. I just assumed that we would cut right through San Polo to the Rialto. But, whatever. Of course when we get to Santa Lucia, there’s a huge line for the vaporetto and it’s running on a reduced schedule. We’ll be lucky to get on a vaporetto within the hour. Instead of backtracking, we keep walking past Santa Lucia and get swept up in a flow of people heading from the train station to San Marco. In the back of my mind, I realize this means we’re committing to walking AROUND the Grand Canal, but the atmosphere is so festive and energetic, I think…what the hell….let’s just go with it. We’ll at least get to walk through parts of Venice that we haven’t seen yet (although to be honest, in the dark, moving in a swarm of people, it all looks pretty much the same).
We’re having fun. Stupid fun. We make a huge scene out of an enormous – ENORMOUS – jar of Nutella in a shop window. DD1 swears she’s coming back to buy it. And DD3 is on a new mission – she wants a mask “on a stick”. She had seen one earlier in the day near the Rialto. We come upon a vendor with a cart of masks –gorgeous affairs – and DD3 picks out a mask with pink feather plumes -- and it’s on a stick. It’s over the top, but now her ensemble is complete: she’s got the pink mask, the purple Hannah Montana boots, and the fuchsia handbag. And she’s got them all on now (and let’s not forget the red lipstick which she’s liberally applied before leaving the apartment!).
DH stops at a vendor selling roasted chestnuts. The girls and I walk ahead and then pause waiting for DH. I take a few pictures of the girls with DD3’s new mask. After a while, I think, hmm, DH should have caught up to us by now. I walk back toward the cart where we left DH. He’s not there. Great. He’s somehow walked past us. We hurry ahead to try to catch up to him. It quickly becomes clear that in this crowd, we don’t have a hope in hell of finding him. Luckily, he has one of the phones and I have the other. For the first time on our trip, we have an “emergency” and it’s because one of the parents is lost. The irony is not lost on the girls. After several phone calls, we find DH resting at the foot of a canal bridge. He’s been racing ahead to catch up with us, not knowing we were behind him! He’s pooped. But we’re still only somewhere in the Cannaregio, so we rejoin the flowing crowd.
That’s when the bombs start going off. Of course, they’re not really bombs…just firecrackers. But they echo off the buildings and water and resonate like bombs. The tempo picks up. They’re not being set off in the flowing crowd, but close – at the edge of piazzas the crowd is streaming through or on the side streets. DD3 is starting to get unnerved. It dawns on me now that I haven’t seen another young kid out. DD1 and DD2 are also a bit shaken. In their hometown, even sparkles are illegal. These random blasts are not their idea of fun. I have to agree. Just past the Rialto Bridge, the lanes narrow and the crowd tightens.
At this point DD1 tells me she’s has a crowd phobia. Really? Nineteen years and this is the first I’ve heard of a crowd phobia. DD2 reasonably chimes in that since there is no way we’re going to actually get into Piazza San Marco, we should just cross the Rialto and head back. DH is about to collapse and DD3 is on the verge of tears because of the firecrackers. Really, people? I want to forge ahead…we’re so close…but deep inside I realize I lost this battle the moment we turned left. Okay, abandon mission, back track to the Rialto. Across the bridge, it’s another world…deserted, desolate. But still, the occasional booming firecracker to make your heart stop. We arrive at the apartment just as the clock strikes twelve. G&D are playing cards enjoying several medicinal G&Ts. We are so happy to be home. DD2 plays a hand and then scoots off with the other girls to huddle over Harry Potter. We open another bottle of wine and begin a gin rummy marathon. Happy 2011!
From the beginning, I’ve thought that the fireworks display on New Year’s Eve in Venice is going to be everyone’s all time favorite moment of the trip. It’s the reason I agreed to pay an extortionist price to stay in Venice over the holiday. G&D are not up for it, but DD3 is rearing to go. She’s not gone back to a normal sleep schedule since arriving in Rome, so I’m not at all concerned that she will run out of steam before midnight.
Venice is swarming with activity. For some reason, when we head out of the apartment, everyone turns left toward the vaporetto stop. I just assumed that we would cut right through San Polo to the Rialto. But, whatever. Of course when we get to Santa Lucia, there’s a huge line for the vaporetto and it’s running on a reduced schedule. We’ll be lucky to get on a vaporetto within the hour. Instead of backtracking, we keep walking past Santa Lucia and get swept up in a flow of people heading from the train station to San Marco. In the back of my mind, I realize this means we’re committing to walking AROUND the Grand Canal, but the atmosphere is so festive and energetic, I think…what the hell….let’s just go with it. We’ll at least get to walk through parts of Venice that we haven’t seen yet (although to be honest, in the dark, moving in a swarm of people, it all looks pretty much the same).
We’re having fun. Stupid fun. We make a huge scene out of an enormous – ENORMOUS – jar of Nutella in a shop window. DD1 swears she’s coming back to buy it. And DD3 is on a new mission – she wants a mask “on a stick”. She had seen one earlier in the day near the Rialto. We come upon a vendor with a cart of masks –gorgeous affairs – and DD3 picks out a mask with pink feather plumes -- and it’s on a stick. It’s over the top, but now her ensemble is complete: she’s got the pink mask, the purple Hannah Montana boots, and the fuchsia handbag. And she’s got them all on now (and let’s not forget the red lipstick which she’s liberally applied before leaving the apartment!).
DH stops at a vendor selling roasted chestnuts. The girls and I walk ahead and then pause waiting for DH. I take a few pictures of the girls with DD3’s new mask. After a while, I think, hmm, DH should have caught up to us by now. I walk back toward the cart where we left DH. He’s not there. Great. He’s somehow walked past us. We hurry ahead to try to catch up to him. It quickly becomes clear that in this crowd, we don’t have a hope in hell of finding him. Luckily, he has one of the phones and I have the other. For the first time on our trip, we have an “emergency” and it’s because one of the parents is lost. The irony is not lost on the girls. After several phone calls, we find DH resting at the foot of a canal bridge. He’s been racing ahead to catch up with us, not knowing we were behind him! He’s pooped. But we’re still only somewhere in the Cannaregio, so we rejoin the flowing crowd.
That’s when the bombs start going off. Of course, they’re not really bombs…just firecrackers. But they echo off the buildings and water and resonate like bombs. The tempo picks up. They’re not being set off in the flowing crowd, but close – at the edge of piazzas the crowd is streaming through or on the side streets. DD3 is starting to get unnerved. It dawns on me now that I haven’t seen another young kid out. DD1 and DD2 are also a bit shaken. In their hometown, even sparkles are illegal. These random blasts are not their idea of fun. I have to agree. Just past the Rialto Bridge, the lanes narrow and the crowd tightens.
At this point DD1 tells me she’s has a crowd phobia. Really? Nineteen years and this is the first I’ve heard of a crowd phobia. DD2 reasonably chimes in that since there is no way we’re going to actually get into Piazza San Marco, we should just cross the Rialto and head back. DH is about to collapse and DD3 is on the verge of tears because of the firecrackers. Really, people? I want to forge ahead…we’re so close…but deep inside I realize I lost this battle the moment we turned left. Okay, abandon mission, back track to the Rialto. Across the bridge, it’s another world…deserted, desolate. But still, the occasional booming firecracker to make your heart stop. We arrive at the apartment just as the clock strikes twelve. G&D are playing cards enjoying several medicinal G&Ts. We are so happy to be home. DD2 plays a hand and then scoots off with the other girls to huddle over Harry Potter. We open another bottle of wine and begin a gin rummy marathon. Happy 2011!
