The Trip

The purpose of the trip was ostensibly to visit my brother in law and help him settling in Italy.  Neither Sheila nor I could remember the last time we had more than a couple of days together, let alone a week, so we decided to make the most of it.  After countless plans were hatched, changed and ultimately scrapped we finally settle on a course of action.  We would fly to Venice, spend a couple of days there, then hire a car to explore the Veneto.  While this was my first visit to Italy, Sheila had lived in Venice so was already familiar.  Having an Italian-speaking guide and a European sat-nav can avoid so many problems!

My first impressions of Italy were quite neutral.  The airport officials were like those of any other country; cold, uninterested and just getting through the day.  Fair enough.  We bought tickets for the vaporetto, a kind of water bus, direct to San Marco.   €50 for a return is a bit steep; you can probably save money by taking a train from Mestre, but it’s a great way to arrive in Venice.  The first views are quite disappointing, but once you get past the dilapidated boat yards and houses and see the spectacular churches and towers, your impressions soon change.  I grabbed my camera and pointed it at San Marco.

Our hotel was immediately behind Piazza San Marco, overlooking a popular gondola boarding point.  Opening the window, the noise was incredible!  Although I should point out that this is just the effect of ‘normal’ conversation between gondoliers and perhaps a bit of echo.  Thank god for double glazing!

There are no suitable words to describe Venice; it really is a city like no other in the world.  You can take an evening walk by the waterfront, listen to the sound of waves lapping against the shore and gondolas gently bumping into each other and watch the setting sun bathe the city in golden light.  Reading any guide book will tell you the best place to go for a truly authentic pizza or pasta meal, but in my experience, the best thing to do is wander through the streets and find somewhere you like the look of.  If you find the address of a perfect little bistro, you will find that navigating the streets by map and street name gets complicated very quickly.  More often than not, a street will not even have a name sign.  Besides, it is much more fun to lose yourself and discover a restaurant on your own. 

We had a full day to explore Venice, and rather than setting out to find specific places, we just blindly set out into the city.  We had a vague idea that we wanted to head towards the station, on the opposite side of the city, but decided to take in the city along the way.  While the streets very often lack naming signs, most corners carry directions to the main sights and destinations.  You will often see signs pointing to the Rialto Bridge, railway station and San Marco.  We chanced upon a fish market, tagging on to a large fruit and vegetable market, just beside the Grand Canal.  If you’re feeling hungry, I wouldn’t recommend it; before long we were longing for some of the fresh artichokes!

Once again we headed into the city; across quaint piazzas, through narrow alleys (that in any other city would be no-go areas) and across bridges.  We paid no heed to signs and wandered down whichever street took our fancy.  We stopped for a cup of warmed red wine, continued and before us was the Rialto Bridge. 

The Rialto Bridge was nothing special, as we had seen it half an hour ago!  If, however, you are seeing the bridge for the first time, you will find it picturesque as part of the grand scene, but on its own somewhat disappointing.  The paint is flaking and the fan holes in the wall leave it looking more industrial than scenic.  The bridge itself houses several shops; nice enough, but the same as any other street.

If you actually follow the signs, it does not take long to reach the station.  You emerge from the maze of alleys, piazzas and canals to be confronted with the busy “high street” of Venice; the Grand Canal.  This was a good time to sample the famous Italian ice cream, sit on the station steps and watch the world go by.  I had been in Venice for about 24 hours now and it still seemed so surreal. 

Arriving in Venice

It’s any other flight; you have eaten the complimentary sandwich and drank the complimentary wine, made yourself as comfortable as possible and settled down with a book.  The occasional glance out of the window reminds you that you are going somewhere and the carpet of clouds protects the privacy of the Earth.  Suddenly, the clouds disappear and you find yourself staring, open-jawed at the snow-covered Alps.  They appear to stretch into infinity and you find yourself a million miles from the dull greyness of Heathrow airport.  You see lakes gently strolling past and even catch a sneak preview of Lake Garda.  The thrill of travel and exploration begins to seep into your body.

The rugged mountains soon give way to countryside and it is not long before you see the Adriatic Sea coming to meet you.  As the plane descends, you are introduced to the Venetian Lagoon, littered with tiny islands.  Before long, you make out the outline of Venice itself; slightly fish-shaped, but otherwise, any other island.  As the plane creeps closer, magnificent towers take shape, hinting at what is waiting for you.

You blink and it is gone.  As the sea beckons you downwards, you are introduced to the grey-brown featureless landscape surrounding Marco Polo airport.  As you land, the thrill is gone, replaced by that familiar tedium of traipsing through the airport, passport at the ready and hoping that you luggage has actually made it onto your plane.   Relieved, as your trusted suitcase approaches you on the conveyor, you head for the exit, waiting to see what awaits you.

As you walk towards the vaporetto boarding area, doubts begin to cloud your mind.  Where am I?  Where is the beautiful city I was promised?  Are we really crossing the lagoon in that old boat?  After passing the small island with the quaint house, you are greeted by the old run-down buildings of any other city.  Old, disused boatyards mingle with cranes that appear to be on a constant lunch break.  But the important thing is that you trust your wife, your patience will be rewarded!

The first few bus stops pass by and you look back at the complicated spaghetti of floating motorways, marked out by wooden posts.  The boat turns around and you find yourself staring straight at the towers of Piazza San Marco and San Giorgio Maggiore.  Without realising, your camera is in your hand and you are transfixed by this beautiful view.  You start to feel the magic of this most bewitching of cities.

The vaporetto chugs on towards San Marco and your eyes sweep the horizon, drinking it all in as though it will disappear at any minute.  You chatter excitedly with your wife as you draw ever closer to the island.  Everyone on the boat is on their feet as the boat pulls into San Zacarria, Piazza San Marco.  Clutching your bag, you reach the front of the boat to be told this is not actually the stop for Piazza San Marco.  To the puzzlement of the on-looking locals a group of red-faced tourists return to their seats.

After five minutes, you arrive at the real San Marco.  The earlier embarrassment is not even a memory as you drift past souvenir stands overflowing with Carnival masks and magnets.  You look to your right and see San Giorgio Maggiore floating on the horizon.  You look to your left and see the busy Piazza San Marco.  Even with scaffolding covering some of the intricate buildings in the Piazza, you know that this is a city like none other.