Ever since my parents brought back the stunning glassware from Venice on their trip back in the 1980s, I have been transfixed by Venice. So far removed from the usual with her tiny alleys, uncountable bridges and canals, overhung with shuttered windows and tiny clotheslines.
We stayed in San Marco, at Zaguri B&B, perfectly located within walking distance of St Mark’s Square and close to S. Maria del Giglio waterbus stop, a lovely big room and good breakfasts. Nazanin on reception was really helpful and friendly.
We filled the cloudy, warm days walking as much as possible, we lost count of how many bridges we crossed, gave up on trying to follow our routes on a map and gave ourselves over to basking in the beauty and spirit of this immensely historic place. I envy anyone who can say they are Venetian, those who get to live here. Granted, you would have to go without a cellar and invest in good wellington boots.
Everywhere you look, each turned corner, opened up options on which way to go next – left or right…is it a public square or an outlet to the Grand Canal? Who knows! Just go with it and keep walking. With the exception of wanting to find particular sights occasionally, we left it to gut feelings to guide us. The Rialto Bridge heaves with shoppers and it’s a larger than I imagined. Very wide to accommodate boutiques on either side, a wide walkway through the middle and on the side. We didn’t spend any money, just met a seagull who seemed rather unimpressed we didn’t have any food for him.
We made sure to visit St Mark’s Square, of course, and we were about a 5 minute walk away. During the day the crowds of day-trippers swarm and smile at the end of selfie sticks. Tour guides hold their bright umbrellas or identity poles aloft and trails of people snake behind straining to hear the commentary. Hawkers push their wares – this year’s fad is mini helicopters and bright lasers. No thanks.
St Mark’s Square is much better by night, in my opinion. Following dinner we headed back to St Mark’s and found a completely different atmosphere. Take away the crowds, turn up the lights, add enough merry people to keep 3 restaurants open and listen to their string quartets duel with Ravel’s Bolero. Bolero is very special for me and my heart swelled out of my chest as I picked up the tune floating over when we entered the square. I skipped faster to hear it better and couldn’t stop the massive smile on my face. The air was filled with joyful merriment, everyone in a good mood. Even the hawkers were more interested in playing with their goods rather than trying to push for sales. I think I even danced in the middle of the square, I just couldn’t help myself. Lights twinkled, bouncing off the small puddles dotted like patches across the cobblestones. And each time the musicians may have tried to hang up their bows for the night, it was always, “Encore, signori!”
We made sure to stop by the Bridge of Sighs, waiting our turn with the throngs to get to the railings for our photos. Continuing away from the crowds and the square we headed along the esplanade to the Arsenal – a gorgeous and imposing structure which has been vital to the security of an island with such history. It was particularly nice to be able to breathe and be away from the many tourists. It lends the area a calm and peace which made us more comfortable going into shops and we found some great Murano glass pendants for souvenirs.
On our final day we had to try and follow our maps…scary…to find the Bridge of Tits. Yep, there is such a place…named as such for its use by prostitutes, who were encouraged to stand topless to entice and convert suspected homosexuals. Those were the days huh?
Most of the time we had little or no idea where we were exactly. And we cared less. So many lovely quiet skinny canals, residential life on show, relaxed and casual wandering through public squares and so many photos of every possible vantage point. Each time we crossed a bridge the perfect photo composed itself for us…and each time we took a photo. And then the next time it would happen again, and again, and again. We just couldn’t help but fall completely for each view of water, boat, bridge and brickwork, all infused with history and pride.
Rich paint colours, iron work, canals of opaque water reflecting back the scenes above them in the quiet suburban areas, it all combines to cast a spell over the visitor, challenging you to try and leave without looking back. I know I couldn’t, desperate for one last glance even as she disappeared to a blur on the horizon.
On our final morning my love asked me to marry her. Yes, Venice always was and always will be very, very special for me.
