Last Stop: Venice

Our Grand Tour of Italy, Part 4

We took the train from Florence to Venice (or Venezia, if you prefer). Our coach was full of Americans. So much English being spoken around us! Kind of a shock to the system, after hearing nothing but Italian (sometimes French or German, too). Mostly, I tried to tune it out.

It was pretty obvious when we were approaching Venice. Suddenly, there was water all around, as the train crossed the bridge to the island on which Venice is located.

We took a water taxi to the hotel–first down the Grand Canal, then into the lagoons running mazelike through the city, until we reached the Hotel Bonvecchiati. A quaint older hotel, the Bonvecchiati had these room keys (actual keys, which the Novotel in Florence had, too) with these great big tassels attached to them. You could leave them at the desk when you went out. It felt like something from a movie. But then so does Venice in general.

Venice lagoon.

Outside the Hotel Bonvecchiati.

O sole mio!

Venice has lots of bridges with steps.

And streets that look like alleys. (Yes, that is a street.)

Our first stop was St. Mark’s Plaza (the Piazza San Marco), that big plaza full of pigeons you see in movies. It’s every bit as awesome as it looks on film. The piazza is surrounded by little (highly overpriced) cafes, many of which feature live orchestras–small orchestras with four or five musicians that played constantly. They featured a wide variety of music, ranging from classical to showtune medleys to jazz. Usually, they timed their sets so that when one wasn’t playing, another would pick up the slack. Sometimes two performances would overlap and it was tough to choose where to stand and listen.

The Piazza San Marco was particularly delightful at night, when the dim lighting and non-stop music made for a highly romantic setting. (Yes, just like a movie.)

Piazza San Marco.

Another view that includes St. Mark's Basilica.

Tiled corridor along St. Mark's Square.

The clock tower (don't stand too close--apparently it's fallen apart a lot).

Me, taking it all in.

My husband with the Basilica behind him.

Venice was cooler than the other cities we’d visited up until then. In fact, the next day, we ran into our first patch of inclement weather. It started raining that morning and was still drizzling when it came time for our gondola ride, reserved in advance. We could have switched days, but we had other plans for the next day and it seemed like the rain might let up, so we said, “What the heck,” and took our ride.

A rather wet gondola ride, as it turned out. We huddled in the gondola in hooded sweatshirts, as the rain intensified (hardly a downpour, but a fairly steady light rain, nonetheless). I looked at my husband and he looked at me, grinning (or was he gritting his teeth in the chilly rain?)–wasn’t quite the gondola ride we envisioned, but one I’ll always remember.

Another lagoon shot.

Gondola piers. (That looks like a water taxi.)

Ah, there's a gondola.

A couple of them.

A cruise ship.

Like other parts of Italy, we did a lot of walking around Venice. There were no cars–cars couldn’t navigate those bridges with steps that were everywhere. No, the only motorized transit options were by water–water taxi, vaporetto (water bus) or gondola. So we walked a lot. Found a park that was kind of cool near St. Mark’s.

Line o' park benches.

Moi.

Great guy I was hanging out with.

We also took a trip to Murano, the island where they have the glass factories. Though we saw many shops with glassware on display, we must have missed the street that led to the factories. (Wasn’t planning on it, but I bought a cute bracelet. Nothing fancy. Just a pretty memento of our trip.) Nonetheless, we saw some pretty cool things there, like a big glass sculpture and a huge roll of gold. (Sitting right out there with a little fence around it. Guess it’s a bit heavy to steal.)

Bridge in Murano.

Rolled gold (protected by tiny fence).

Wild glass sculpture.

Afterward, while my husband rested, I took a walk and found the Rialto Bridge. The streets were so narrow and look-alike, on my way back to the hotel, I couldn’t remember exactly which street to take. My usually faultless sense of direction got turned around. But I ended up at St. Mark’s. Knew where to go from there.

That’s what Venice was like in general. Lots of tiny, skinny streets, almost indistinguishable from one another. Really hard to read on the map (even harder than Florence and that’s saying something). But it didn’t matter, because no matter how lost we got, we always seemed to end up at St. Mark’s. Like I was a compass and St. Mark’s was a magnet. Interesting.

View from the Ponte di Rialto (Rialto Bridge).

View from the other side.

One of the orchestras on St. Mark's.

Ritzy St. Mark's cafe.

Something we saw at St. Mark's. (Astrological signs? Hmm).

Our last night in Venice (and Italy), we just had to spend listening to the orchestras and eating gelato. Venice is undeniably romantic and quaint. Too bad it’s a dying city, according to Rick Steves, whose guide to Italy was such a valuable aid to us.

The Basilica at night.

An overpriced cafe at night.

A little night music. (Blurry, but the only night time shot of an orchestra.)

The next morning, we had to get up and catch a plane. We were ready to sleep in our own beds again, see our cats. Still, it was tough to say goodbye to Italy. So, rather than goodbye, I’d rather say, “See you later.”

Due Americani a Venezia.

Ciao, Italia. We had a great time.